"Okay, get ready, baby," he said, and she released him and leaned back. He held his cock, grunted a few times and then started pissing. He pissed for a moment on her face and she gasped, and then he pissed on her tits, spraying her all over. The piss splashed all around her, collecting in puddles in the bottom of the pool. I didn't want to guess how many beers he'd had, but he didn't stop pissing for a long time. Natalia seemed to love it. I didn't know how much of that was her desire to be a good porn performer, or if she was actually getting some kind of sexual thrill from having a stranger piss all over her, but the look on her face was blissful. When his stream weakened, she got up close, holding her mouth open just below his cock so his final dribbles ran right onto her tongue.
I slide to my knees, between your legs. You tear your eyes away from what you are doing to look down at me. My eyes are pleading with you, burning with need. Please. Please let me. Please may I feel you. Please may I taste you. Please fuck me hard right now.
Kristina is an award-winning author and the editor of a over dozen Cleis Press anthologies, including xoxo, Fairy Tale Lust, Dream Lover, Lustfully Ever After, Duty and Desire and the Best Erotic Romance series. Her short fiction has appeared in over one hundred anthologies and her nonfiction has appeared in publications as perse as USA Today, Good Vibes Magazine, The Sun and Brain, Child.
I step out of my boxers, making my way closer to the shower. The cold air from the door opening startles Christy, but when she sees it’s me she relaxes again. The smile that I love spreads over her lips, lighting up her face as she beckons me in with an outstretched finger. I don’t hesitate, needing to be with her. She draws me in until we’re both under the blast of hot water. Fuck! How the hell can she stand it this hot? She’s a self-confessed shower tart. She’d be happy to spend all day under the warm stream if I’d let her. Christy moves for the shower gel, turning me around to lather my back. The slow, sensual stroke of her hands feels so good. The tension starts to leave my shoulders and body. I turn and lean in to gently nip at her neck, while her hands move behind me to massage my ass. She let’s out that little moan that gets me every time. My erection pushes itself into her stomach, wanting in on the action. Laughing quietly she moves a hand around to my front, taking a firm hold of my cock. Shit, that feels so good. She squeezes lightly, massaging up and down my length. Her soap covered hands so soft and slick against me.
So, hell, now I find myself hog-tied, wrists bound to ankles with silky red rope, in the swanky riverside apartment of some guy that, until just over an hour ago, I’d never laid eyes on. All I’ve got on is a pair of black lace panties and a pair of Rupert Sanderson stilettos, having left my dignity somewhere over by the door. I’ve never been tied up before, I’ve never been spanked before and I’ve certainly no idea what’s going to happen next. And I have to say, I think I’m enjoying myself. But how the fuck did I get myself into this in the first place? I think it was something I said.
Alex pulled the waistband of Conor’s shorts down enough to allow the swollen head of his rigid cock to poke free, then pinned it in place with the stretchy fabric. He rubbed the exposed tip with a finger, gathering a few drops of moisture, chuckling in delight as Conor squirmed and wriggled beneath him. He applied his wet fingertip to one of Conor’s hard nipples and leant forward to run his tongue firmly around the other. He sat back and blew a steady stream of cool air across the damp flesh and Conor moaned, his breath coming in short pants.
And then he spanked again. And again. Little by little, he soothed and spanked, soothed and spanked. It didn’t hurt much, but I was on fire. Something deep in my soul had been ignited and it felt like coming home. He released my wrists from where he’d been holding them, tight above my head. I reached for his cock, gripping it tightly in my grasp. He was rock solid and I couldn’t help feeling relief that he was enjoying this as much as me. He sat up, leaning against the headboard, propping cushions round his thighs, legs out straight in front of him. I lay still, waiting and wondering. Then Matt pulled me over his knee, my body supported by the mattress. He was rougher this time, as though in his mind, he’d worked out what we both wanted and needed. His cock pressed up hard between my thighs, where he’d positioned me over it and I pushed down to meet it. The pre-come on his head smeared across my clit and I circled my hips, working myself over his hard protrusion, wanting the release from the pressure he’d built inside me.
She didn’t think of it as porn. Porn was something some men watched in front of their computer, cock in hand and a box of tissues next to their keyboard. Artificial boobs and bad acting. A hard cock in a wet pussy or mouth. What Carrie was doing wasn’t porn. It was just her blog.
It has been for some time now that I have so wanted to have a passionate awakening, to wake up with his cock already inside me, wanting me so badly that he cannot even wake me first, or perhaps it is that I am just a sex doll to be used and uncared for, treated harshly because I like such perversions. Not bothering to wake me first. Just caring for how I can best provide him with pleasure, used for his amusement and stimulation, my body nothing more than a toy to be played with.
He hunched over her, enjoying the feel of her nails across his back and the eagerness of her kisses. He left her lips to trail down her chin to her neck. He played there a little before going lower. Her full mounds fit perfectly in his hands. He teased her nipples with his tongue, drawing sharp cries of pleasure out of her. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Give yourself over to me.” She shook as he traced his right hand down her body to cover her wet pussy. She gasped when he pushed his finger against her clit. “Cody.” “That’s right,” he encouraged. “Know who has you. Who you belong to.”
I couldn’t say how much time had passed since the last of the suits had demonstrated their pleasure at Master & I’s X-rated performance. The chair back dug into my arms, while Master’s tie chafed my tightly bound wrists. It hadn’t taken much persuading for more ties to be donated. Legs spread, ankles bound separately to the chair legs and my mauled tits and well-fucked entrance on full, humiliating display.
I grasp you, both hands round your warm form, almost cylindrical. Rigid and yet so giving all at once. Teasing your opening there with the tip of my tongue, knowing how much you are eager to pour yourself down my thirst parched throat. My lips part to allow you access. I use my hands to guide you in, moistening you with the juices of my own anticipation.
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