Not a photo, but I couldn’t resist posting those amazing feminine curves
Silent film star
What are you afraid of?
That none of this will feel as good as I had imagined.
That it will feel too good and that I will never want to stop.
What exactly do you want, little girl?
I want to live out my fantasies, my darkest desires. To be made to acknowledge them. To enact all the things I posted in my blog.
You know, uh, like…um….um…..
No, tell me. I need to hear you say it.
Bondage. And Spanking. On my ass and… inner thighs…and then… my cunt.
Let’s take a look at your blog, then, shall we. He seats me in front of his computer, on his lap.
He points to the first image. Tell me what you like about this photo:
The tension in her body, in the composition of the picture itself, the shadows and light. How she’s pulling against her bonds in ecstasy as she’s being eaten out. How hot that man is, how greedy.
And this one:
The closeup image of her puffy labia, her partner’s tongue just touching her engorged clit. The wetness.
And this one:
Her red bottom. His hands holding her cunt, fingering her. The way she’s dripping.
Do you imagine yourself as the girl in these pictures?
As he’s talking to me, his fingertips are feeling my nape, my shoulders, my breasts. He rubs my nipples through my little shirt. I’m embarrassed to see how they push out so wantonly. His hands move to my waist, then raise my short skirt, stroking my quivering thighs. I can feel his hardness beneath me, my panties barely soaking up my wetness. The scent of my arousal makes me blush, and when I try to slam my legs together, his hands stop me, hold my thighs apart. Fingertips brush the insides, so gently, but it only makes my cunt seep even more. I sigh. He kisses my neck.
And what about this next one:
How her shaved cunt is peeking out of her little skirt. It’s glistening. And everyone can see it.
And this one:
The closeup of the two gorgeous men licking her asshole and pussy. That looks so amazing. I want to feel that.
As I’m talking he’s slipped his hands inside my bra, squeezing my nipples hard. I groan and squirm on his hardon. Where is this leading?
And this one is a favorite, no?
Yes, sir. The hand is slapping her pussy and you can see her juice fly in the air on the impact.
Nice detail. I didn’t see that at first.
One hand is teasing my nipples, his other hand is between my legs, stroking my soaked thong. He laughs a bit as his fingers glide wetly against the fabric, then he pushes it away, stroking my smooth lips.
I like a smooth, shaved, wet pussy, he says, then strokes me faster, inserting one finger. I drop my head back against his chest as he finds my engorged clit, circling it, over and over. Ah, I sigh. This is exquisite torture.
And this gif, he asks, continuing to tease me with his gifted fingers, as I’m quivering and gasping hard in his arms. What do you like about this?
The riding crop. How it’s landing on her shaved cunt. The way her mouth opens, the way her eyes are glistening with lust.
And this photo?
How she’s blindfolded and tied down. His fingers deep in her mouth, the other man eating her out, squeezing her nipples hard. Everything at once. Her mouth, her pussy, her nipples, how you know she’ll have both holes filled. How she’s helpless, she can’t stop them from doing what they’re doing, and it doesn’t matter what she wants, she can’t stop cumming.
That’s a very descriptive and evocative story, my dear. I like how your details about her feelings, her desires. Now, I have a game for you. I want you to read to me, out loud, your stories posted here, while you sit on my lap, and I touch you wherever I want, for as long as I want.
As the shock of desire ignited by his words bolts through my body, I can only whisper fervently, yes, oh yes, sir. Please.
He removes my shirt and bra. My nipples are huge, and he twists them hard as I moan. Reaching in the desk drawer he locates a pair of nipple clips. I shift uneasily, but nod okay, my head bent down, submitting to my terrible desire and longing to experience what I’ve only written about. He kisses the back of my neck, then clips first one, then the other nipple, holding me firmly on his lap. I stifle a sob and he strokes my cheek.
It stings, yes? He opens my cunt with his other hand and says, But you adore it. You’re so wet. Stroking my swollen, dripping lips, he grins, then gently flicks each clamped nipple in turn, liking how my breasts bounce. He then puts his fingers into my mouth, and I taste my own desire…
Are you nervous?
A little. This is really getting intense and I—
This will help.
Opening the drawer he removes two sets of handcuffs. When I make no move to get up, he takes each of my wrists in turn and cuffs them below the seat. I cannot move from his lap now. He opens the drawer again and removes the riding crop.
He feels me start, then says briskly, Now read me this story. And don’t stop until I tell you to. He pushes my thighs apart, wide. I feel slutty, handcuffed against him, legs spread, pussy wide open, seeping all over his lap, nipples pinched, breathing hard. I drip even more as I think about what I’m doing…
I knew he’d select the story I’d written about him. About all the things I wanted him to do to me. I read my fantasy to him, and then it becomes a narration of my very reality as he drags the crop teasingly along my widespread thighs. Light taps start, alternating each leg, as the crop inches ever so slowly towards my dripping cunt. My thighs are reddening, and the stinging the crop leaves in its wake makes my pussy ache.
My reading voice is ragged, breathy. He squeezes my left nipple and starts cropping me harder. The crop moves closer and closer to my clit. Then I hear the soft swish and feel the hard smack there. And another and another, just like in my story. With each stinging swat my clit buzzes, expands, begs for more. I’m gasping, rocking on his lap. I’m lost in the rhythm I’ve been dreaming of, the burst of pain and then the rush of pleasure, again and again. I’m gushing, twisting, pulling at my bonds, practically cumming. Then the delicious, hard taps stop.
Keep reading, bad girl! you admonish me.
I try again, as the crop hits me hard and fast, raining all over my thighs and pussy. He times this torture perfectly, the last sentence of my story swallowed in my scream as I cum and cum and cum, his fingers inside me, pulling one, and another, and another from me.
After a long moment of silence, he asks:
Was this as good as your story?As good as you imagined it to be?
I can barely answer. “Better. So much better. Thank you, sir.”
Real experiences can only augment the authenticity of your writing, he adds, laughing darkly. And I intend to help you broaden your horizons.
We have the whole evening ahead of us. Let’s find another story for you to read aloud…
From my journal of that night:
What he whispered to me:
Your boyfriend is too nice to do these things to you, isn’t he?
That’s why you come to me, you need me. You need this.
You like being taken, tied down. Made to cum.
You like struggling against the handcuffs.
You like feeling powerless, so needy.
You like feeling so naked and vulnerable, wanton.
You only cum this way with me, so hard, over and over again.
You need me to fuck you hard like this, to slam my cock into you. Take you against the wall. Spank you hard and make you cum and cum.
You like my fingers in both holes, my tongue lashing your greedy clit.
Give in to it, give in.
Give in to me.
Tell me you what you want.
Take it like the dirty girl you are…
“You missed the target professor”