fucking your ass

CW anal fucking, strap on, pegging (m/f)

You lie on your front. Your bare bottom points to the sky, lifted up to a nice fuckable angle with pillows. It’s a delicious rosy pink where I have spanked it. I stroke your bare exposed flank, feeling how soft the skin and hair are there. I lower my bare body onto you. My electric blue cock nestles between your ass-cheeks and you whimper. I kiss the back of your neck, the place I know gives you tingles all over. “You’ve been very good for me, sweetie,” I say. “Preparing yourself to take me inside you.”

Your little mm and ah sounds are eager, trusting. I stroke your hair and kiss all over your neck and cheek. You wiggle your bum experimentally, feeling my hard cock against your hole. You don’t like teasing as much as I do. I love teasing. I love to tease and be teased.

I clamber to the side of you, half-draping myself on you for better access to your hole. I spread thick lube on my fingers and circle your asshole with them as you moan in anticipation, your breath shuddering in and out of you.

“Ohh, already so pliant down there,” I say sweetly as my fingertip slips in. Your asshole is much deeper than mine.

I begin to spread your asshole with two fingers, going deeper, and gently stretching you, which makes you moan. It takes very little to coax your little hole open, as you’ve prepared yourself so well.

You say breathlessly into the pillow, “I can take more.”

“I know you can, sweetie,” I say as I reach the spot I’m looking for, first with one finger, rubbing the firm nub, which renders you absolutely unable to form words as you moan helplessly with pleasure.

“So eager,” I say, admiring your pliancy, your obedience, your willingness, and your sweet moans. “Such a good boy.”

Next I work on stretching you out. Two fingers again, and then three. With every stroke, I brush your ever-more sensitive prostate. I swear I can feel it swelling to meet my fingers.

I can tell that speech is quite a struggle, as between moans you manage only, “P,” “P,” “P,” until finally the word, “Please,” emerges, stretched out into a breathy moan.

“Please what, sweetie?” I say innocuously, stilling the thrusting of my fingers to linger on your prostate, stroking it sweetly as you struggle to say what I know you want to say.

“Please,” you whimper between words as I work your sweet little nub, “Fuck me.”

“Good boy,” I say, and I kiss the back of your neck again, fingers still in your ass, working your prostate, and you shiver, absolutely vulnerable, completely in my hands.

I turn you onto your side and I lube up my hard cock. I press the tip just against your hole. You whimper, whining for my cock inside you.

Slowly, glacially, I push the tip inside. You moan at being penetrated, but then whimper for more as I stay still, teasing you. And you’re a good boy for me, letting me tease you when what you really want is my cock deep inside your ass and a good, thorough fucking.

I hold you close, nestling my nose into the curve of your neck, where I can breathe in the scent of you, trapped in the beautiful hair of your body.

You whimper and whimper, as I move the cock slowly deeper inside you. I know you want hard fucking. And I’ll give it to you, but first I want to hear your beautiful whines, your little whimpers as you beg me wordlessly for my cock.

And then I fuck you. Slowly at first, reveling in your throaty moans when I hit your prostate and in your whimpers for every inch in between.

“More, please, more, more,” you beg me, your voice ragged.

I grip your hipbones hard with my hands and fuck you as deeply and as hard as I can. Your low groans become loud cries.

“Touch yourself, baby, I want you to come,” I say. I slam that asshole, the way you’ve told me you like to do to yourself, and you cry out on every stroke, louder and louder, and more guttural, until you come with a shout, ribbons of creamy white come all over your hand, your cock, the sheets.

“Coming out now,” I say, as I slowly, gently pull the cock out of you with a tiny little pop, kissing your neck, your shoulders, and stroking your back, your arm, your shoulder. “Turn over so I can see you,” I say, and you do. I rest my head on your chest and lie in your arms, holding you and squeezing you, marveling at how wonderful it is to hold and be held at once.

You sigh a deep, contented sigh. We are still, breathing in the silence. I close my eyes, feeling sleepy.

“You know, I’m still gonna fuck you later,” you say.

I can hear the smile in your voice. I kiss your chest and squeeze you. “Mmm I can’t wait,” I say, feeling my nether regions warm at the prospect.

I feel you smile again. You know me so well. You always sense the ebb and flow of my desire. Or maybe I’m just transparent, like a panting dog. You put your hand on my thigh and it sends an electric tingle all over my body as you say, “Let’s see if there’s a wet pussy underneath this cock, hmm??”

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bathtub

CW pissplay

I make my love lay down naked and exposed in the indulgent extra-large bathtub, his head safely cocooned on the cushions we vacuum sealed in plastic to be water safe earlier that day. He is not quite comfortable, I’m sure, but not fully uncomfortable either. He looks up at me, eyes trusting. I kneel on the floor beside the tub and lean in to kiss him. His lips are plump and soft. I eye the space in the tub and locate a place for my feet. I strip naked and carefully maneuver myself, crouching over my love’s face so that the sight of my ass and pussy are large in his vision. I lean forward to kiss his soft and lovely dick. I breathe in the scent of him, I breathe in my love of him. “Mmmm you smell so good,” I murmur. One last breath in, and a quick kiss. I right myself, bouncing with my knees a little, to settle into my crouched position, hovering above my love’s face.

“I want you to take a deep breath,” I say. He does it. “Can you smell me from there?”

“Yes, love,” he says, sounding the way I like him to sound—weak as a kitten with desire, and reverent.

I lower myself closer—just far enough away that he’ll have to reach a little. “Lick that pussy.”

The first lick is a gentle caress from the clit down the slit. He moans as he tastes me. “You taste so good,” he groans.

He keeps licking, but it is difficult. I have made it so that he has to work to get at it. Every swipe of the tongue is an effort, as he raises his shoulders off the ground each time to reach my clit. I like it this way. It teases me, the way I like, and it teases him, the way I like.

“Get it, sweetie,” I say to both encourage him and madden him, “Get that clit.”

I can hear in the little sounds he makes that he is becoming frustrated and impatient.

“Get it,” I say, with more reproach this time. He redoubles his efforts, like the good boy he is. “Good, mmm that feels so good, sweetie.”

I can’t see his face, but I can see his dick. It took mere moments for him to become hard and straining. His moans of pleasure at tasting me and pleasuring me turn into pleading whimpers.

“Do you have something to ask me, sweetie?” I ask.

“Yes please, please, I need you closer so I can lick you properly, my love.” His tone is a delicious mix of worshipful and petulant.

“Mmm, you asked nicely, and you’ve been so good,” I say. He thanks me as I carefully lower my pussy onto his face, resting the weight of my torso on his belly, my face next to his hard cock, my knees on either side of him. I breathe deep again and nuzzle his cock against my cheek, my eye, my open mouth, feeling its hardness, how it twitches when I touch it, how it strains toward the warmth of my mouth.

“Mmmmm,” I rub my pussy, now wet and puffy from his ministrations, all over his face, feeling a spike of pleasure when my pussy meets the ridge of his nose, the prickle of his beard, the softness of his lips and eyelids. I rub my juices all over him and then settle back into position. He eagerly licks my clit the way he knows I like. I kiss the tip of his dick, one of the powerful centers of his cock-scent, then I lick a stripe from base to tip. I suckle on the tip, pushing the foreskin back with the tip of my tongue and then swirling my tongue around the head, where I can taste the musk of him, a combination of cock, sweat, and piss that I so dearly love, a taste that makes me wet, a taste that makes me want his cock inside of me, and I moan.

“Just relax, babes,” he says, “Just put my cock in your mouth and come for me.” He licks and licks and licks my clit just right, as I shake and moan and come!

I suck on his cock in earnest as I come down from my first orgasm of the afternoon. He moans and moans into the slick flesh and hair of my pussy, but he licks most diligently, rendering me unable to do anything but moan and shake as I come again, and once more again (what I call a “double”).

As I come down, I say, “So love, do you remember why we’re in the bathtub today?” I stroke his cock lightly with my hands, resting my face in the nook where thigh meets crotch, where I could smell his scent.

“Yes,” he says. I feel his cock twitch in my hand.

“I’m ready to do it now, sweetie. You still want to drink my piss, my love?”

I feel rather than see his vigorous nodding. “Yes, yes, please, please, I want to taste what’s inside of you.”

“Ok, love. Get yourself ready. I drank a ton of water today, so you’ll have to swallow fast if you don’t want to get piss all over you.” He puts his open mouth over my pussy, whimpering softly in anticipation.

“Ready now, sweetie?”

“Mmhmm,” he assents, muffled by my cunt.

My warm piss sprays into his mouth, filling it faster than he can swallow it. I feel it spilling out of his mouth, some trickling down my thigh, but most of it running down into his beard and all over his chest hairs.

I carefully come back into my crouch, and then stand and turn around. I look down at him, smiling softly. “Oh sweetie. You got all dirty.”

Hostel

CW: NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT

It’s late. After a long day of traveling mishaps, it should not come as a surprise that the hostel you booked no longer has any private rooms available. You are too tired to complain much, and your German isn’t up to the task anyway. Instead, you accept a spot in one of the many mixed company rooms.

It is dark already as you enter the room, but you dimly perceive a long room lined with bunk beds in the gloomy half-light. The soft sounds of sleep, little murmurs, light snoring, dreamy mumbling, and the hush of sonorous breaths reach you at the entrance. The place reminds you of Jane Eyre, of boarding schools, as you stumble and fumble through the darkness, groping blindly for your bunk. You’re happy to see that you’re on the bottom bunk.

You undress quickly, too lazy to change into sleep clothes, clad lazily in naught but underpants and a t-shirt that is ratty to the point of threadbare. Before long you are under the covers, your breath evening out, your body going limp and languid with impending sleep, heading swiftly down the black river to swirling unconsciousness. Caught as you are between sleeping and waking, you are only dimly aware of the groan of your bunk and the warmth of another body suddenly beside yours. There is a gruff voice in your ear, there are rough hands on you. You are enveloped in the strange man’s heat from behind, and his hard cock presses insistently against your backside. Your German isn’t very good, but it doesn’t have to be to read the intention behind the words.

The stranger plays with your nipples, flicks them, pinches them, rubs them, strokes them through the thin cotton of your shirt. He bites and licks and sucks at your neck as his hands wander. Still partially submerged in the current of sleep, you are powerless to stop the helpless whimper that crosses your lips, and his hand is suddenly rough across your mouth, silencing you. “Do you want everyone to hear, slut?” he murmurs into your ear. He speaks English with a thick accent. “American, aren’t you?” he says, with something like naked admiration in his tone. “Easy whore.” He grips your hipbone, then slides his hand around your butt, cupping the flesh there. He gives it a little slap, quietly, then his hand moves to palm the wet patch between your legs. “Getting wet for it already, greedy little whore.” His hand muffles your moan. “Oh you like that, do you?” He presses hard into your underwear. “What a good little slag you are.”

He presses two curled fingers into your mouth and you suck greedily, eyes still closed, utterly ruled by your baser impulses. “Good girl,” he says, slipping them out. He pushes your underwear hastily to the side and curls two fingers inside you, chuckling low in your ear. “So wet already.” With his other hand, he pulls the underwear down and off. He spreads the slickness from your cunt to your clit and begins to flick there. You make a strangled noise of pleasure and he tuts. “Everyone is going to hear what a stupid dirty slut you are.” He increases his pace on your clit, slipping his other hand between your legs. “They are probably all jerking off to the sound of you.” The finger on your clit is nearing the crest where pleasure becomes pain. “You like giving them a show, don’t you, fucking slag. They want to hear you come. Come for them.” You are powerless to stop the high moans issuing forth in a stream. Your back arches, tightening like a string about to snap, and you shudder as climax rips through you.

Before you recover your sense of place and time, the stranger shoves his cock inside you, fucking you hard with a wet slapping sound. You unconsciously push back onto him, outside of yourself with pleasure. His fingers are hard on your hips, holding you firmly in place, gripping hard enough to leave marks, no doubt. There is nothing you can do to stop the noises coming out of you on every thrust. “Fucking whore,” he growls in your ear. “You like it, being fucked with a roomful of strangers listening. Probably wouldn’t mind being fucked by each of them one by one.” You can’t stop the throaty moans, although they are loud in the hushed stillness of listening in the room. “You like being used, don’t you, little slag. You’d love to be the communal cum-bucket.” You are sobbing ‘yes’ brokenly every time he pounds into you, eyes screwed shut, hands clenching your blankets. With that, he buries himself deep inside you and comes with a swear in German. You are warm and sticky and sweaty. He climbs out of your bed and is gone with nary a backward glance, leaving you with his cum trickling out between your legs, your blankets twisted and smelling of sex, your t-shirt rucked up, your underwear nowhere to be found. You fall back asleep, unable to help yourself.