Walking on the Wild Side

Walking on the Wild Side by Nikita Snyder © 2005

Synopsis: When two beautiful roommates explore the wild side of life, they meet with unexpected consequences. Kymber gets swept away by Michael, an older man who sees her as a challenge to control. She turns into his sex slave and the training is brutal.

The arrogant Cindy, a human Barbie doll, meets her match in Patrick. He makes Cindy debase herself in a place where she is the queen, turning her into a slut.              

 

He told me I was to be pierced that afternoon. I was carefully licking his balls and in no position to respond. A little tug on the chain clipped to my neck was a signal to snake my finger into his asshole. I got it right, because his dick got very hard and he rammed it down my throat. Cum hurled like a storm surge into my stomach. He held onto my head tightly while I shuddered and gasped for air. I quickly lapped some precious drops that escaped and dribbled down my chin. He allowed me to relax between his thighs.

 

I wasn't very good at giving blow jobs. In fact, it was my albatross. Sir decided that frequent drilling would sharpen my skills. Any hesitation in decoding the subtle movements and tugs would incur a swift correction. Needless to say, he beat me frequently with the riding crop.

 

“Pay attention!” he'd say icily.

 

He forced my mouth to mold to him and filled my nose with his smell. When I opened my throat, he would drive deep into me, putting me at his mercy while I was at my most defenseless and vulnerable position. I had little choice but to keep trying. Yeah, I did get better at it. One late, rainy afternoon, as I looked up at him in a haze of pain and tears, I felt proof of my own power in the shuddering strength of his orgasms. I became the proud receptacle of his bodily fluids.

 

As he lay spent and stroked my head, he said, "Kymber, it's time to go. Slip into your heels and bring me your leash."

 

"Yes, Sir," I replied and scampered off.

 

I'd been jerking off to the Story of O and porn since I was a twelve-year old babysitter. I never thought those early beginnings of reading erotica would bring me to this point.

 

 

~Sunday Afternoon, three weeks earlier~ 

 

 

The familiar smell of Coppertone wafted to my nose. Cindy was energetically rubbing lotion on her golden arms. Her long, straight, flaxen hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She peered at me over her Jackie O sunglasses while I hid under my baseball cap and pretended to be incoherent.

 

"You look rode hard and hung up wet," she grinned.

 

Her mile high legs gleamed in the sunlight. I pictured myself skewered by HIS thick, pointed lance, squirming and screaming through the ball gag.

 

"Kymber?"

 

The plastic cap squeaked as she screwed it on the bottle.

 

Cindy shook my shoulder and I twisted ever so slightly to look at her and said dreamily, "Did you say something?"

 

Her luscious, thick lips were wrapped around a cigarette as she talked out of the side of her mouth. She opened a bag of carrots, flipped off the top of the onion dip, dunked, crunched, and created a cacophony. I wondered how she could balance all those activities at the same time and still be annoying.

 

"So,,,what happened to you?" she asked nibbling like a rabbit.

 

"Pass them over, I'm starving."

 

With a crispy carrot lodged between her choppers, she passed me the bag and flashed her big, pearly whites. As I scrambled for an explanation, I suddenly recalled Cindy's trembling figure from the night before,

 

"You left the whole bar gawking," I hissed. "What happened?"

 

Cindy wrinkled her nose and glanced away. Silence was her answer.

 

 

Cindy loved to regale me with the wild and wacky escapades of the Saturday Night with Cindy Show. Tears welled up in my eyes from laughing. You couldn't shut the girl up to catch your breath, as she told animated tales about her victims.

 

For example, one particular evening, I witnessed her brutal emasculation of a puffed up Ginzo who wanted to take her home. His mistake was a lame pick up line and gaudy, gold chains on his fat, stubby neck.

 

With a cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth, she repeated his comment loudly, "Shut my mouth?"

 

As she whipped her hair to one side, she stood in his face and stared him down with her blazing, blue eyes.

 

"The only time I shut my mouth is when there's a big dick in it. Do you have a big dick? Huh? Or are you just a dick?"

 

She thundered as if she were a Cleveland steelworker. The poor worm took his shrunken balls and crawled back into his hole.

 

 

Cindy glanced around the pool, "Let's hop in and I'll give you the short version."

 

A walking wet dream with a well stacked rack, Cindy parted a crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. Her polar opposite, I was petite with long legs and a curvy butt. As Cindy straightened up and jumped into the tepid water, her bikini bottom revealed raised, thin, red welts. We swam together like shapely dolphins to the shady side of the pool.

 

"I was playing a game with Patrick," she said as she gasped for air.

 

"You really should stop smoking. You can't swim across this tiny pool without running out of breath." I nagged.

 

"It's not the smoking. My jaws are too sore to open and my nose is stopped up," she complained.

 

"Yeah, right!" was my usual comment.

 

Cindy noticed the black and blue marks on my shoulders and took a closer look at the bags under my eyes.

 

"Hey, you are holding out on me!" she squawked.

 

I flashed a secretive smile and fingered the welts across her ass. She twisted away from me.

 

 

We always played this cat and mouse game of telling. I admired Cindy for her self confidence and ballsy demeanor. She oozed sex like a neon light in her charming gum chewing, lip smacking way. She was much better at telling stories than I, but, I got a rise out of her for holding back. This made her madly curious and I teased her. Cindy was shameless, like a puppy looking for a bone, snapping furiously, tugging away, and using all the wiles at her disposal to wheedle the truth out of me.

 

 

One time, we compared notes on oral sex. Although we both found giving blowjobs distasteful, Cindy had figured out how to give a bad one. Some guys might ask, is there is a bad blow job? She reasoned if you gave a bad blow job, they would throw you on the ground and fuck you really hard until they blew their nut. It sounded logical to me. I shared nightmares of my pouty, bow shaped lips being violated by long, thick, heavily veined dicks. Cindy calmed my nerves by using a banana to demonstrate the technique.

 

"Try to get him to lick your pussy and then fuck him. If he gets his dick in your mouth first, lick and nibble around the head like this."

 

She swirled her tongue around the helmet and across the piss hole.

 

"Suck the knob a little, then lick along the shaft while gently squeezing his nut sack." she mumbled, as she licked and sucked the banana's sweet nectar.

 

"Once he starts shooting, dodge and duck. Milk the rest of it with your hand. If he doesn't lick your pussy in return, then, it's Hasta la Vista, baby," she proclaimed with her hands on her hips. Then, the bitch made me eat the banana.

 

Cindy knew how to yank my chain with her sex talks and laughed uproariously as I'd excuse myself and scamper to my room to jerk off.

 

 

I attempted to stall her questions and dove under the water to goose her. My chestnut hair was matted around my face as I popped up behind her. We played cat and mouse for a while like a pair of giggly girls. Finally, she lost patience with me,

 

"Come on Kymber," she growled and gripped my hair tightly around her fist.

 

I pretended to adjust my bathing suit and my fingers manipulated my clit under water.

 

"Well, it started with you."

 

 

~Saturday Morning~

 

 

Saturday mornings was always the same. As we staggered out of bed, one of us spilled coffee grounds on the floor before they made it to the cup. We forced a cup of joe down our throats and don sneakers for a quick run. Brunch and shopping filled up the rest of the day. If money was tight, we hung around the apartment, put on some tunes, and wallowed in our own makeshift spa.

 

Today was spa day. Hair and nails were on the agenda.

 

"What are your favorite sex fantasies, Cindy?" I asked innocently, while I trimmed her bangs.

 

Cindy lit another cigarette, tipped her head towards her shoulder, and blew smoke rings while she considered her answer. She squirmed in her seat and adjusted the seam that stuck in the crack of her ass.

 

Through squinted eyes she said, "No. Do you?"

 

Visions of fucking, sucking, handcuffs, and whips danced in my head. I was fishing for some assurance that I wasn't the only female pervert.

 

"No."

 

I resumed my fishing expedition like a cat on a wire, "You never thought about being kidnapped, tied up, spanked, forced into doing things you'd never do?"

 

She took another drag and looked sidewise at me, certain that something was afoot, "Let me braid your hair, bitch."

 

Call me crazy, but, I love it when she calls me bitch. Her fingers moved very firmly along my scalp as she grabbed sections and tugged sharply, almost to the point of pain. The tugs stimulated all my nerve endings and I imagined those tugs on my nipples.

 

"Where are you going with this?" she asked suspiciously.

 

It was a lazy afternoon, I was looking for mischief, and horny enough to wank. So, I got creative.

  

"Let's play a game, a sex chain story. It has to be really hot and nasty. We can stop whenever you want. You set the stage to start. I will add to the story, make it nastier, and then stop. You will add more to the story to make it even nastier than I did, and then I'll take my turn. Got it? It will be SO hot!"

 

Cindy grinned, "You're not turning lezzie on me, are you?"

 

"Naw," I laughed.

 

"Then I'm game." She said.

 

We lay down on the floor with pillows under our heads and got comfortable. Cindy used her street smart voice to started the tale.

 

"A young girl, about our age, walks up to her front door but forgot her key. It's dark and she bends down to look for it under the flower pot. While she's fumbling with the pot, someone grabs her . . . " she stopped.

 

"A masked man leans into her ear and hisses, 'I have a knife in my hand, do you feel it?' She feels the knife cut her bra off." I continued, "The serrated edge strokes her nipple and she shivers."

 

Cindy interjected, "She is so scared, she pees herself!"

 

"Then, he pulls a pair of dirty underwear from his pocket and stuffs it in her mouth then digs into her a little more with the knife,"

 

I'm unable to add more at the moment and pause.

 

"You're gonna die in a New York minute if you try anything funny," said Cindy, as she mimicked a man's voice.

 

I picked up the next thread, "He quickly cuffs her hands behind her back, pushes her down so that her dress is up over her head. And he rips her panties off. She tries to donkey kick him in the balls."

 

Cindy's blue eyes widened as she said, "He spanks her butt, hard, leaving bright, red hand marks on it...THE PRICK!"

 

My pussy pulsed and my panties were uncomfortably damp. I hoped Cindy wouldn't notice me fidgeting with my shorts.

 

I continued, "You are a real slut, showing your bare ass on the front porch for all your neighbors to see. Let's give 'em something to talk about. "

 

"Go on" said Cindy.

 

I noticed she squeezed her thighs together so, I kicked it up a notch and remembering a line from a dirty novel, hissed, "He grabs his fuck stick and spit on her asshole. 'I'm going to stick my dick in your ass, bitch. When I'm done, you're going to lick me clean. He laughed cruelly as he said it."

 

She fluffed up her pillow and laid back down. Her eyes glazed over and she had a dreamy look on her face. Both of us visualized our own version of the scene as it unfolded. I turned over onto my side, away from Cindy, stiffened my fingers and grinded my mound against them. Cindy played with her nipples because I saw her hands under her stretched out tee shirt. They roamed around in lazy circles as she alternately rubbed and twisted them.

 

The tome was nearing its end and I finished it with this, "She's ashamed that anyone is looking at her THERE. Her butt hole looks like a star, tiny and defenseless. She clenches it really tight, hoping to keep the intruder out, but he forces his knob in with a grunt. The feeling of his dick at her back door is painful and nasty. He drives it home in one stroke, like a jackhammer, going in and out, pounding her into oblivion."

 

I slapped my nether lips urgently and tried to keep the noises coming from inside me to a low roar. . . what else could I . . . pant . then I released a low groan. As I approached the crested shore, my legs squeezed together, toes unfurled, eyes squeezed shut, and my heart pounded. I . . . just . . . had . . . to . . .CUM...and finally, I embraced the little death with fireworks and joy.

 

We were quite a sight. Cindy came after me. She used a similar technique to reach her apex. Legs splayed, she slapped hard at her straining pussy like a runaway train. Her breasts quivered and her eyes rolled back in her head. She grimaced. Cindy's face stayed like that in that freeze frame until she floated back to earth. I patted her head as she rolled up into a ball. After several moments, she opened one eye to see me staring at her with my mouth open. We smiled like sated cats that just licked milk from their whiskers. We unplugged the phone and retired to our respective bedrooms for a nap.

 

 

~Later that Saturday Evening~

 

 

Our adrenaline surged as we walked into the night. Cindy and I were flying high and dressed to slay. Attention was a poultice for our ego. Cindy draped her chassis in a blue skirt with a matching halter top and stilettos encased her painted toes. Her side swept bangs and bouncy hair, hung like a silk scarf down her back.

 

A short, black dress topped my diamond shaped calves and strappy black sandals adorned my feet. An elegant ponytail betrayed my school girl innocence. The only accessories were my green cat eyes.

 

Brass handled doors opened to heart pumping music and the low roar of talking. Smoke hung in the air like a wet suit.

 

"How you ladies doing tonight?" asked a familiar face.

 

"Jimmy!" we squealed in unison.

 

"The usual?" he asked.

 

We nodded and in unison, flashed our blinding smiles.

 

Cindy liked to stand at the bar and smoke. She exuded an untouchable quality of royalty. I happily perched on a stool next to Cindy, fresh, un-jaded, and approachable, a clear canvas of naivete. With a martini in my hand, I readied myself to observe the unfolding tableau.

 

Jimmy was a body builder stuffed into a tuxedo, complete with bursting buttons and a bow tie that strangled his neck. Wavy hair complemented his thick, black, mustache. I imagined him with a cowboy hat in a pickup truck, complete with a bumper sticker that advertised MOUSTACHE RIDES 50 CENTS.

 

He had an uncanny ability to size people up. Many times he stepped in when someone was plying me with drinks. Cindy could take care of herself but he watched over us like a big brother. We appreciated that and tipped him very well.

 

During college, studying and working left little time to learn the game of life. My wild experiences were limited to frat parties, vanilla sex with boyfriends. In Catholic high school, I engaged in the typical school girls’ escapades, drinking beer before a school dance, and peeing standing up in the boys' bathroom, taking each others' clothes from the locker room and leaving them to fend for themselves.

 

Cindy and Jimmy were special friends. They shared a common ground as servers that worked at public establishments. While he had the enviable job of being head bartender at the club and made very good money, she scored a coup and landed a waitress job at the best steakhouse in Houston. She planned out how to get the steakhouse job like a mouse planned to break into a cheese factory. Cindy succeeded by using the oldest trick in the book, sex. She gave the owner blowjobs in order to get what she wanted. He had the business savvy to give Cindy the best shifts because customers returned just to see her. She was quite personable when she wanted to be.

 

Cindy's laser vision scanned the crowd and came to rest on a handsome, feral piece of beefcake. He looked like the high school hood and stood out among the sea of suits with his white tee shirt and pack of cigarettes rolled up under his sleeve. His name was Patrick. Short spiked hair matched his sharp, chiseled features and a spider web of lines outlined his steely blue eyes. Quiet and impenetrable, his words were measured morsels. Cindy was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. We met him three months ago at this very club. Since then, they had a strange arrangement, a standing appointment every weekend, here. They'd disappear for a while and she'd return subdued. I was nosey and peppered her with guarded questions which she ignored.

 

Patrick's eyes connected with Cindy's and she excused herself to join him in a cloistered nook. The club had alcoves where couples could huddle with some semblance of privacy. This time, I followed her, determined to eavesdrop.

 

"Please don't make me. I'll do anything else." Cindy implored.

 

"That will cost you ten more strokes, slut." Patrick said in a steely voice.

 

With resignation, Cindy said, "Yeah, I know."

 

"Look at me,"

 

He pulled out her tits, stretched the nipples away from her chest, and pinched them hard enough to cause her to wince.

 

"Put your panties in my pocket," he said and she did so.

 

"You are a whore. Whores enjoy being outrageous and the center of attention,"

 

A tear ran down her cheek as she looked at him and nodded.

 

"In ten minutes, come to the men's bathroom with the man I chose," he said and tenderly kissed her tears away.

 

As Cindy walked back to her post, my eyes were fixed on her.

 

"Jimmy," she said in a strange voice, "Long Island Ice Tea, please?"

 

"Sure, babe."

 

Cindy took long slurps. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, each time they opened up a little wider. She turned her seat so that her snatch faced a table of Geeks that flanked Patrick. His pointed towards a pimply faced, man who wore a wrinkled plaid shirt and a pocket filled with pens. He looked like he hadn't showered in a couple of days. Cindy was visibly shaken, but put her hand under her skirt and slowly stroked her mound. I touched her shoulder with concern.

 

She slapped my hand away and hissed, "I'm playing a game with Patrick."

 

A game! I watched her seduce the geek from across the room and he came over. He had poor social skills and looked down or around room. Embarrassed, he shifted from one foot to the other. I fully expected him to stutter.

 

"Patrick said you wanted to dance with me," he squeaked.

 

Cindy shot a disgusted look at Patrick and he didn't miss it.

 

"No, I don't want to dance with you. I want to suck your dick. C'mon, follow me."

 

She led him to the men's room and all eyes were on her as her bosom and hips moved in tandem. She knew how to milk shock value. Patrick followed swiftly at their heels. My head spun. Jimmy had caught on. He asked if I wanted another drink but I ordered one for Cindy instead.

 

"She's going to need it," he grinned.

 

I squirmed in my seat for at least twenty minutes and when Cindy returned, her hair was disheveled, lipstick smeared, and there was a noticeable drop of something on the corner of her mouth.

 

"Here's a mirror. Your lipstick is smeared." I offered but she ignored me.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Geek return from the restroom, his yellow teeth framed by a sloppy smile. I flipped Patrick the bird. He sauntered over to Cindy, possessively grabbed the back of her neck and whispered something while she tried to remain cool and sip her drink. He pinched her thigh hard and she almost choked on her drink.

 

With Cindy behind him, he stopped to mumble something to the rest of the Geeks, then led them towards the banquet room. Like Alice in Wonderland, I wanted to follow the rabbit down the hole, but I waited patiently instead. It was a long while before Cindy stumbled back to her chair. She had a faraway look in her eyes, a crooked smile, and stains on the back of her skirt. The Geeks trickled out of the banquet room, and as they moved toward the exit, they waved wildly to Cindy. Her new fan club grabbed their crotches in unison in a gesture of thanks. I looked at Patrick with eyes as big as moon pies.

 

"What happened? Tell me!" I insisted but she didn't respond.

 

I was unable to get the obscene images out of my mind. The corner of the bar chair was just the right height for me to scratch my twitchy itch and I did. Patrick lips curled up into a wicked smile and embarrassed, I blushed.

 

"Can I be of some assistance?" asked a tall man who'd been standing nearby. "That was quite a performance. You can mop the floor with those panties," he said with his pale gray eyes riveted on my ass.

 

In his late thirties, his salt and pepper hair belied a youthful face. Dressed casually with a loose Armani jacket, he was the most attractive man I ever saw, and, inexplicably, I was drawn to him. It was a fight or flight moment, I felt naked and vulnerable.

 

I turned on my heel to run away but he grabbed my elbow and said, "I'm sorry. My name is . . ."

 

My mind went blank. It didn't matter what his name was or who he was. I just wanted to go home with him. He saw my desperation and like a Neanderthal, hoisted me over his shoulder, and carried me back to his cave.

 

 

~In the Neanderthal’s Cave~

 

 

“Please! Let me touch it!" I begged.

 

"No. Not yet," he hissed, pulling my hand away from between my legs.

 

He held my face and kissed my mouth. I couldn't see because my eyes were blindfolded, but, I captured his tongue and gently sucked. It forced a groan from his lips. I wanted him to let me touch myself and couldn't wait. Wild Thing played in the background while I was draped on my back with my hands pinned under me. The aroma and texture of the leather sofa was intoxicating and I was vaguely aware that we were playing his game.He dove into my nether lips, and drew circles on my clit with his hard, pointy, tongue. He stopped to blow air on my tender bud, and then, started all over again.

 

I gasped in staccato. Crack! The crop came down hard on my upturned nipple and I screamed in shock and pain.

 

"Not until I say" he mumbled.

 

That didn't stop me from trying.

 

His finger wormed its way into my rosebud, one knuckle at a time. I ground my heated mound on his mouth with reckless abandon. I just couldn't wait. I had to cum and fast. That's my problem. He reached for the riding crop again and whacked me on my hairless slit.

 

"Ow!"

 

The pain stung briefly. Undeterred, I arched my pussy toward his face again. Swat! The crop tattooed a welt on my cleft. The scream was automatic.

 

"Shh, be quiet little bitch," he laughed

 

I stopped talking and pouted. So this is how it was going to be, his way or no way. Wickedly, he teased me to another wave as his fingers traveled up my body like slow, soft caterpillars and latched onto my stubby nubs. He twisted them almost cruelly. I tried to hump his leg. Crack! Crack! Crack! The crop landed sharply on my breasts in measured strokes and caused my head to snap to attention in exquisite agony.

 

He was withholding pleasure from me so that the orgasm would be so intense, I would shake, shiver, and beg for more.

 

Michael was his name.

 

 

Michael flipped me over like a pancake, onto my knees, with my chest on the couch. Cold lube worked its way into my squirming holes. I whimpered like a kitty and squirmed to get away. He stopped struggling with me.

 

"Don't stop!" I implored.

 

Michael fastened a ball gag on my mouth and tied my hands behind my back. I was helpless, just the way he wanted me. A cold, hard object was at my ass's door. The end, smooth and softly pointed, worked its way into my sphincter.

 

"Relax or it's going to hurt. Take small, quick breaths, and push out," he crooned into my ear.

 

With a pop, my bumhole swallowed the slim shaped plug.

 

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

 

I shook my head yes to no avail. His warm body crouched over mine made me shiver in anticipation. Cologne, mixed with his musky scent, filled my nose. His hand caressed my breasts and the other fingered my pearl. As my body rocked in its own steady rhythm, the finger pulled away and left me in a neglected state again. I thrashed in frustration. Then, my prayers were answered as Michael cleaved my steaming pussy with his throbbing bone.

 

He removed my gag and said, "Tell me how it feels."

 

"I love you fucking me. . .fuck me harder. . .fuck. . ."

 

I humped my mound on corner of the couch and met him stroke for stroke. As I rocked harder and got closer to an orgasm, he slapped my ass, a reminder not to cum.

 

"You little whore . . . how does it feel to have both holes filled? Your pussy is so slick... I can slide in and out all day."

 

Babbling incoherently, he pumped with wild abandon.

 

Whoosh! The butt plug flew out like a rocket. Michael reared back and plunged the depths of my bowels and fucked me in slow languorous strokes. His balls slapped against my pussy.

 

He ordered me to hold on longer, 'Don't cum!"

 

Was he crazy?

 

"You have the tightest ass I've ever had! I love fucking your ass . . . I want to fuck your ass forever . . . " he rasped.

 

I flailed like fish on a hook.

 

"I love you fucking my ass . . . fuck me harder . . . fuck my ass!" I screamed back.

 

He smacked my ass repeatedly. It made me shiver toward an orgasm. I tried to squeeze my thighs together to get just a little bliss. He fucked me harder and I wailed. I took the pain and turned it into pleasure.

 

"Michael? . . . " I asked, "Can I . . . touch myself now?"

 

“Yes!” he screamed.

 

His cum blasted in powerful jets and I felt his cock pulse inside me. Then, with hands released from bondage, my fingers were like birds in flight. With featherlike strokes, they danced and slid across the lips, like little slapping taps, while I ground my hips in circles. This was all it took to raise the momentum from a crescendo to a raging roar. My brain sped like a bullet toward the bulls eye. I reached my destination with a piercing scream and collapsed in convulsive orgasms. My fate was sealed; I was his slave.

 

"Later," he gasped, " we are going to try something different."

 

Still blindfolded, I cocked my head to the side and hung on to every word. He picked me up and gently bathed me. I was in no position to refuse. Then he fed me milk and cookies and put me to bed.

 

 

~Something Different~

 

 

Michael smiled down at my resting form and whispered, "You're in desperate need of control. All that pent up sexual energy needs to be channeled."

 

He fastened a leather collar on my neck and attached a leash. I was about to have my first lesson. Michael placed my hands on his hard cock. It bobbed as if it was searching for a hole and my head was guided to its only target. I remembered Cindy's blowjob lesson and licked the tip, all around the corona and in the slit. The knob begged to be sucked and I obliged, but only a little. My tongue rode down the length of his hot rod to a pair of hairy balls. I had to stop. Can't take hair balls; I'm not a cat. He frowned, grabbed my ponytail and tugged it hard.

 

"Concentrate." he said and forced me towards his balls.

 

I knew what he meant. His hairy balls needed a tongue bath. To me, it was unfair. My pussy was bald, pink, and clean. But sucking his hairy balls was obscene. That's where Cindy's lessons fell short. The bitch didn't tell me about the balls. He pulled down on the leash, a signal to continue. I hesitated. Crack went the stinging crop on my back. I sucked those balls as if they were oysters and savored the musky flavor with my tongue. I made my way towards his hairy bum and licked in between. Oops! His cock spiked me in the eye. Michael grabbed my shoulders for leverage and pumped my face with his turgid weapon. While I drained his bull sized balls, I gagged and retched. My throat filled up with hot, salty, stringy, goo.

 

"Swallow. . . All of it," Michael hissed between his teeth while he fired into my gullet.

 

Cum dripped from my mouth and I was proud for being the cause of his explosion. Michael studied me. I felt satisfied, yet unsure and frightened.

 

"I like the look on your face." he smiled, wiping cum from my chin.

 

He taught me about pleasure through pain. And so the story goes. . .

 

 

~Sunday Afternoon, Back at the Pool~ 

 

 

"Let me see your welts," she whispered.

 

"Sure. I'll let you touch them, too, but first, bring me a beer," I sighed, watching Cindy swim away.