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Exercise makes me horny December 7, 2010

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Fellatio, Random hookups.

I had on a sports bra and spandex gym shorts. The swoosh over my chest told me to just do it.

I followed the man across the room when he left, stopped him in the hallway, and asked whether he would let me suck his cock.

In the handicapped toilet, I went to my knees. Once we had tugged his shorts down, I rubbed my palms over the erection in his briefs, two hands spanning the bulge, stroking the length, one after another. I cupped his balls, clutched and released, and mouthed the penis through the cloth covering. The fabric blackened under the press of lips. Teeth nipped cock and cotton before the underwear fell to his feet.

My tongue swiped through the sweaty tangle of pubis. I kissed the groin, suction vacuuming up the moistness beaded there. The scent of his unwashed maleness made my nostrils flare. Tasting salt upon my lips and tongue, I licked perspiration from his balls. The porcupine hair of his scrotum glistened with saliva. Only after I had washed him this way did I address the cock from below. My tongue followed the vein along the underside of the erection. Making the lips plush and soft, I kissed the glans.

He leaned his weight against the sink while I worked down the shaft. At top, I beat the tongue against the head like a wing. My grip tight on the thick columns of his thighs, the tonguetip scooped along the lip of the sac when I bottomed out. My nose traced lazy figure-eights in his pubic hair with the crown ensconced.

A dampness under the neckline darkened the red of his muscle shirt.

I had him turn around. Arms extended on the countertop, he spread his legs apart and thrust his ass to me. Prising the cheeks apart, I licked a stripe through the cleft, which was hairy and dank. First my fingernails, then my tongue followed the lines of the muscles behind. My jaws clamped on his asshole. I took enormous gulps.

The man hissed pleasure. Sweat sluiced along his skin. I had it from the small of his back onto my forehead.

He bent his cock backward and tucked it between his legs like a tail. Lips sinking from the anus, I sucked him again.

He propped a foot on the toilet. I stooped beneath him. Face pointed at the ceiling, I spread my mouth wide and let the knob cascade into my throat. His eyes lidded to a sliver.

The hand secreted in my shorts rubbed my wet pussy. The tiled floor bit into my knees while I raised and lowered myself over the midpoint of his groin.

He gave a moment’s warning, then grunted.

Palm tightening under his balls, five fingers made a backward “C” below where my lips had clamped down. The head hopped in my mouth with each burst of semen. I couldn’t contain it all, couldn’t swallow fast enough to keep pace with the explosion. Come, white and viscid, overran the corners of my lips and coated my fingers. More of it escaped into the dense crop of pubis when I lifted my mouth from him.

I lapped the come from my hand. I kissed it from the matted groin. He brushed my hair behind an ear while I cleaned his softening penis.

A journey into subspace December 2, 2010

Posted by Leah in D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.

Family from the US visited over the Thanksgiving holiday. The university had December deadlines that I rushed to meet. Busy days and busier nights left no time for sex or even for masturbation.

I needed to make up for this void in my life. Once Amadeo and I had exchanged kisses at his door, I excused myself to the toilet and returned clad only in woolen socks and leather boots that zipped up to my knees. Suppressing the shiver of coldness against my bare skin, I lowered to the ground with my spine ramrod straight and bent my head submissively downward. Tipping my chin up, Amadeo dipped his fingers in whisky and brought them to my lips. From the floor, I saw the arousal tenting his loins.

His hands loosened his belt and opened the fly. He shifted the underpants down and freed the penis from the constraining fabric. We chatted for an hour this way, talking about our days, the plays and the concert I had seen, the museums and art I had experienced. He told me about buildings in the city. On the carpet, from between his legs, I gave his penis and scrotum suck while we conversed.

His eyes informed me just how much he liked the oral ministrations I provided in the gaps of our speech.

Lips forming a seal halfway down the tumescent shaft, humming to myself, lightheaded and giddy from the taste of precome, my eyes told him that I knew.

When Amadeo suggested we go to the bedroom, I apprised him of the fact that I needed a hard spanking first. So he brought me over his lap, and I stretched myself across his thighs and elevated my ass.

He started with a bite into the flesh. The plane of his hand then leveled along the rump. Friction heated up the surface. He played the two halves of my ass rhythmically, the hands pounding on the skin like bongo drums. The sound of the slaps calmed me. It was a comforting, deep massage. I closed my eyes and purred. When he caught me looking over my shoulder, he determined to strike harder. Bending my arms behind me at the elbows, Amadeo cuffed my wrists together in his grip and instructed me to count aloud to thirty. Alternating between the cheeks, he put power into the motion of his right arm, and consequently, I winced at each of his blows. The nerve endings soon shrieked at the burning in the flesh. I whimpered and barked out the count. After twenty, stinging tears clouded my vision.

Near the end, I lost track and misstated the number. He pulled my head up by the roots of my hair and insisted that we start again from zero.

The blows rained down on me more slowly this time, and they seemed still harder and more contained. I felt them in my ass and in my cunt. Hands balled into fists, I clutched his trouser legs, grunted, and chewed on my bottom lip to keep from screaming. Sobs punctuated the syllables of the numbers. I concentrated on the pain — that searing, blissful agony — my lifeline in the endorphin haze. The world compressed into the circumference of my aching nerves.

At thirty, I looked over my shoulder, rolling my weight into him. Pinched up welts rose like islands from the sea of flesh. The skin had the color of a Mediterranean sunset. The bruises are present still, purple splotches now, reminders when I sit.

I hesitated at the boundary of a submissive place. Deciding to make the leap, I made my request. “Fuck me now,” I said, squeaking out the word “please” when I remembered myself in the silence.

Once Amadeo had stripped bare, he rolled a condom over his penis and had me sit on top of him. My unused pussy stretched to admit the shaft. As I brought my back against his chest, he wrapped his arm around me and tightened a hand over a breast while he shook the clitoris hard. He left it to me to take care of the fucking. I spun my pelvis at him and kept his cock embedded inside. It didn’t take me five minutes to cream around the rigid shaft at the fulcrum of my planet.

My mind went blank when I came. It was all emotion and sensation inside. Tears streamed down my face in rivers. Amadeo clasped my body to him while I vibrated from top to bottom. His movement had spiked the cock into me. I became aware of how small I was seated upon his throne of prick. A man’s strength and will had made me flood. This realization and the euphoria of submission warmed me in the snowy London night.

As my body racked itself in a catharsis of sobs, Amadeo held me. His hands soothed over my arms. He kissed the tears from my face. He lifted his tumbler of whisky to my mouth to sip. I don’t know how long we remained this way, me in his protective, sheltering embrace, his voice whispering reassurance in my ear. I do know that his penis had softened in my pussy when he lifted me off.

Once I had regained my composure, I asked him to fuck me again, for his pleasure this time. He had me sit in the easy chair next to the window, winged my thighs over the armrest on each side, and improvised a ball gag by stuffing a clementine in my mouth. Arms twisted painfully up, Amadeo pinned my hands above my head. I gripped the tall seat back as he imposed himself into me. He slapped my breasts, and I bit into the rind of the fruit. The clementine slipped from my mouth and rolled onto the floor. Amadeo squeezed his hand about my throat. My eyes bugged wide. He spit in my face repeatedly. The spread open hand obscured my vision as he slathered the expectorate into my skin. I mewled at this act of possession. He fingered my clit while his cock plowed into me. I made myself very tight for him.

Perspiration plastered the locks of hair to Amadeo’s forehead. “Use my cunt. Use me for a fuck-toy.” I bit his shoulder and buried my face in his armpit. “Come for me. Come for your slut.”

He came. The muscles in Amadeo’s back went stiff first and then his thighs followed. With the penis lodged deep inside me, he shuddered, his whole body trembling. As the come pulsed out, I dropped kisses on his biceps. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I repeated. He panted heavily as I kissed his chest. Then I was crying again and babbling. Eventually, he shut me up by giving me his cock to suck.