My heart is pounding, threatening to break its bony cage when I open his front door. The house is deceivingly quiet as I toe off my work boots. Trying to be as quiet as a mouse so Sir can catch a few extra winks, I unfasten my belt and the button holding my jeans closed and lower the zipper. Sliding them over my hips, my quickly hardening cock springs out in the cool air.
I steal a quick glance out the window in his front door. If there was anyone walking in the street, they could see the shameful undressing ritual that I perform alone, in Sir's foyer with each visit. The thought both excites me and fills me with apprehension. And both of those add to this experience.
I unconsciously shiver under the cool air with my pants and boxer briefs lying at my feet. My feet slide haphazardly out of each leg of the denim. Unbuttoning the top fastener, I quickly slide both shirts over my head in one quiet and efficient motion before I bend over, naked ass poked up in the air to finger off each sock.
On the table in front of me, beside the hat I just placed there rests my next goal. A thick black leather collar teases me for a slim second before I wrap it around my neck and fasten the silver buckle. The slick leather is cold against my skin, in contrast to the heat climbing my pink cheeks.
Reminding myself of Sir's newly set protocol, I lower myself down on my hands and knees and crawl across the dining room as quietly as I can. My eyes downcast, I watch my hands slap quieter than my knees and the tops of my feet until I cross the threshold of his carpeted bedroom with my painfully hard dick swaying beneath me.
"Mmm, good morning, boy."
The sound of his voice is pleasant and not a complete surprise. As stealthy as I can be, there are not many mornings that Sir is not lying awake and hard awaiting his plaything. This doesn't disappoint me by any means, however, I take it as a personal challenge to get to the side of Sir's bed, kneel back on my heels, and silently await his awakening. It didn't work out today.
"G'mornin Sir."
"No need to kneel today." He shifts around, kicking his duvet to the side, and reveals his impressively hard cock, my treat. "Come get your breakfast."
It's the first time we make eye contact this morning and he's smiling devilishly at me. I guess he enjoys seeing me; a forty-something-year-old, bearded and tattooed masculine man on my hands and knees in submission to him. That works for me, I'll get an hour or so where I can let go of everything and just be his plaything.
When I reach his bedside, I crawl up and start to position myself between his spread legs when he stops me. "On second thought," his teasing voice whispers into the room, "I want to see your pretty dick."
I sit back on my haunches and bashfully reveal my nakedness to him. His eyes travel from mine to my pierced eyebrow to my fur-lined face. I can almost feel his desire as they rake down to the angry tattooed tiger on my left peck, down my slightly rounded belly until they stop on my seven inches of needy cock standing straight up and pointing to his ceiling.
I am motionless as he takes me in, all of me. I couldn't feel sexier than in these moments when he sees me in such a vulnerable state, my dad bod in all its McDonald's glory just before he takes me. Sometimes I'm unsure of what he sees in it, but he likes it and holy fuck does he use it in such pleasurable ways.
Today he instructs me to start the morning by grabbing my dick and stroking it for him. Like the good little slut I try to be for him, I do as he commands and slowly move my hand up and down my shaft pushing a little pearl of precum out of the slit. A moan softly leaves my parted lips as I perform for him.
He watches intensely on me as I masturbate for him. It's such a turn-on for me to feel so scrutinized as I watch him watch me. My body is tingling under his gaze. I could almost cum just from this but he hasn't given me permission for that yet. And unfortunately, he may not permit me an orgasm at all this time. He's let me cum the last couple of times I've visited.
"Sir," the silence is broken by my breathy voice, "may I put your cock in my mouth?"
His dark eyes find mine and he holds them there for a long few seconds. He nods his permission as he says "But no sucking. Just warm it up for me."
I nestle in, between his strong legs and bliss washes over me when the smooth skin of his dick slides across my freshly moistened lips and rests on my tongue. The temptation to suck, to move, and feel him going deeper into my throat is so strong that I have to remind myself that I'm here to serve him, not my own desires. Sir will see to it that I leave satisfied. Even if I'm not allowed release today.
Sir's hands rest on either side of my head and grip my ears. My hair is too short for his fingers to thread into. I catch myself fucking into his mattress, the motion is involuntary to my arousal, and force myself to still. I can't cum.
Holding my head still, he lifts his hips slowly pushing his cock in before dragging it back out and I whimper into his shaft. He repeats the motion, picking up his pace and going deeper with each cycle. Before long, he's ravishing my throat, my stomach clenches to fight off the gagging.
When he lets go of my ears it's my sign to take over. My lips slide slickly over his smooth hard dick; slow and methodical leaving glistening dampness that I use as lubrication for my perfectly synchronized hand stroking and twisting at his base. The sounds he makes because of me inspire me on.
"Dammit boy, are you trying to get out of here early," he asks broken only by his moaning.
My mouth is full of his cock, knowing my words will only be guttural sounds, I look up through my eyelashes and hum into his flesh while shaking my head slowly. It's thrilling and encouraging me on when his half-lidded eyes close the rest of the way and his head tilts back. I'm serving Sir well.
When he lands from whatever euphoric clouds he floated to, he pulls my mouth off of his dick by my ears and pushes me off and to the side. I'm lamenting the sudden emptiness of my mouth when he stands up and points to the edge of his bed. "Come here, boy."
Assuming the position I'm hoping for, Sir stops me. "Not like that. Turn around." His strong hands guide my body to where he wants me and then pull me forward so my head hangs over the edge. My stiff cock flexes and feigns for attention when he smacks his cock against my cheek.
His low-hanging balls lightly brush against my brow on their journey up the bridge of my nose. He's above me, an artist brushing my own saliva across his canvas, my face with the mass of his dick. His musky essence is heady as I breathe him in.
The head of his cock pushes against my lips and I instinctively open for him, a silent plea to fill me again. He's a tease though, he dips his crown in slowly and withdraws it, rubbing the velvety mushroom over my lips and across my chin. Fuck, I wish he'd just run it down my throat!
"Please, Sir?" I whimper. All I want right now is for him to, "Please use my throat?"
I know he likes it when I beg, when I'm so needy that all of my inhibitions fall and I whine for him. He calls it my surrender. Sometimes I use that knowledge to my advantage and overplay my hand. Today though, I need him to use me!
"The dirty cock sucker wants my cock huh?" He asks menacingly, to which I whimper in agreement. "This cock?" He asks while he pops my already puffy lips with its weight.
"Yes Sir, please?" My words are merely a whisper emphasizing my deprivation.
My guttural moan reverberates in my chest when he pushes in until the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat. It's sheer bliss; his swaying balls sliding across my face, his thick hard dick invading my mouth, his hands around my throat feeling himself bulging through the skin of my neck.
I'm struggling not to gag at this depth, my stomach muscles tense in a feckless attempt to fight the cough. When it comes, the exhale pushes spit around his shaft, through my mouth as well as liquid pushing out of my nostrils.
This seems to invigorate him because, after a few shallow breath-catching strokes, he's back in deep. This time he holds it and smiles as my face grows more and more red. I feel like tapping out but want to push it for him, as long as I can. It could have been ten seconds or ten minutes based solely on the desperation I felt for air, but Sir pulled out before I freaked out and had to signal my need.
"Good boy." He croons at me.
I love it when he praises me. Fishing for it is probably the driving factor behind pushing myself to new limits for him. That and the trust we've built together. However, I'm pulled out of my reverie when he smacks my leg as a gesture that it's time for a position change.
He manhandles me and I love it. The strength he uses to spin me around and roll me over is aggressive and intoxicating to me. When he's done I've been spun around a hundred and eighty degrees and pulled so my ass has replaced my face against his pelvis.
This is where it gets good for him. My legs are in the air and spread wide for him. My hole is needy, exposed, and vulnerable for his pleasure. Please don't misunderstand, this is where it gets good for me too! Not that it hasn't been good the entire session.
I flinch and hiss when I suck air in through clenched teeth as the cold lubricant drips onto my ball sack and runs down my taint. The contrasting warmth of his fingers against my skin brings comfort to me that is quickly stolen when "Oh fuck!" his thick finger breaches my ring.
I can't tell by looking at him, what he's thinking. His face is stony and intentional while his finger, and now fingers fuck into me. More, my mind silently cries out. I need more, thicker and deeper. But he's being methodical, assuring that I'm properly stretched to receive him as comfortably and painlessly as possible. Yet another thing I appreciate about him; is his care for detail and bringing me the most pleasure.
"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" He asks like he doesn't already know the answer.
"Yes Sir."
"You've behaved well, but this is for me. Do you understand?"
That's new. I mean, I know our dynamic and the roles we play within it. I'm his 'fuck boi', a tool and a toy for his use. Even though I know this and he often mind fucks me via text with similar lines, he's never made this type of proclamation as he's about to enter me.
"Yes Sir." I moan. "As it should be."
The next thing I know, he's buried to the hilt inside of me, groaning like an animal. I grunt when he slams his body against mine. Before I know it, he's withdrawn and slamming back into me. "Holy fuck!" The words come out involuntarily against the assault.
"Remember your safe words and use them if you need to. Understand?" He smashes against me again causing unusual inflections in his voice.
Our safe words are the stereotypical traffic light colors. I'm sure you know them and their meanings, but I'm kind of a masochist while Sir is one of those gentle Daddy Doms. I've never had to use them or our predetermined hand signals to slow or stop him, although I trust that he will respect them if he ever pushes me to those points.
"Mph... yes, ohhh... Sir."
He pistons into me and back out and I'm suddenly thankful for the time he took to relax my sphincter. However, at the bottom of each stroke, he's hitting something, bottoming out inside me and fucking very pitiful sounds out of me. His unusual aggression melts my subby heart into a puddle of goo.
He fucks me hard for countless minutes until both of our bodies are beaded with sweat and breathless. His endurance is impressive for being nearly a decade older than me. He's slowed some, but aside from fucking into me at different angles, he keeps a pretty steady pace.
Each time he comes in low and pushes up, he brushes across my prostate and forces filthy sounds from me. Left to right and visa versa to ensure maximum soreness for later but he's intent on beating up that little lump inside me until the pressure and the intensity pushes me over the edge and I cry out.
My cock throbs and spits ribbons of cum across my belly, but more importantly to Sir, my ass is contracting and releasing in synchronicity to each stream of cum that spills out and down my shaft.
He likes it, obviously because he is howling between pants. When my body has spilled all it has and relaxes into him, he finds a new pace. Slow. "Thank you, boy." He breathes out.
He calls it a gift when I cum for him. So often, he's a really sweet dominant, albeit there are times when he has a bit of a mean streak. His paddle, or a belt reddens my ass really well. However, when he gives me prostate O's like this one, it's a real ego boost for him and he'll reward me with extra attentive aftercare.
This is where I completely surrender though. Post-nut euphoria sets in and I am now the one floating here, and he is taking slow deep strokes in and out of my wrecked hole. Like when I worship his cock with soft slow movements, his release is strong and voluminous when he lets go like this.
He's pulling all the way out of me, leaving me empty and wanting before diving back in. In his tall bed, my ass is in the perfect trajectory for his hands-free entrance back through my ring. I'm nearly silently blissful now, his inanimate toy. Only soft whimpers float out of me when he leaves me empty.
He tells me, or maybe just the space around us how loose my channel is and how swollen my man cunt is. I can faintly hear him, but I'm still lost to my own endorphins. We both like it when he fucks me into just a shell, already found my release and I'm just there for his use. He tells me I'm a unique bottom because I don't make him stop after I cum. The thought has never even crossed my mind.
The gentle way he fucks me keeps me lulled in my complacent state. I must be in a pretty receptive, almost trans-like state because words and phrases drift into my ears; "good boy", "fucking you feels like fucking the clouds", "I'm so honored that you offer yourself to me". A feeling of pride swells next to the contentment I'm experiencing.
Then suddenly I feel it. Like some distant bass drum pulsing inside my sore and burning ass, he stops moving and lets go. The warmth of his seed washes through me as he fills me full of his cum partnered with gravely sighs and tranquil moans.
My hips feel like they're going to break from my pelvis when he pulls out, slowly lowers my legs and swivels me fully into his bed. I couldn't care less if he dropped me right now and body parts fell off. My entire inner world is at peace when I feel his duvet sliding up my naked body. And he's gone.
It's only a minute or two before he's back at my side, urging me to lift my head to drink from the glass of orange juice he's holding by my mouth. After a couple of swallows of the citrusy drink, he lowers my head to his pillow and ruffles my short brown hair. Before I know it, sleep is taking me under.
