Ok, I have no desire to be submissive although I see the complete sexuality in it. And I am highly, highly sexual. I am a dominant man, and I feel comfortable only in my aggression. But…
…in one case, I’ll be the sub. It’s this: lay me on my back and ride my face like an equestrian whore. Be aggressive. Smother me in your juices. Rub that clit and ass up on my to the point I am fighting for air.
But above all, cum. Cum, Kitten.
For Daddy.
Your time is up now. I’m taking the reigns, Babydoll.
I always get found out when I lie. I’m shit at poker, and keeping secrets. And he always knows when I’m turned on by disgusting things, even if I try to pretend I’m not.
I won’t wash my bedsheets because they still smell of our sex, an intoxicating aroma of sensual extravagance. I woke up again after you left, still in a dream state, and held the pillow against my face … the pillow that your head slept on, and my arousal bloomed again. I ached for you. I laid there breathing in your scent, reliving the unexpected passion of last night.
The flashes come in sultry frames like an old timey movie: your tongue plumbing the soft warmth of my mouth … gentle kisses that quietly turn more immediate and impassioned. A firm grip around my throat as you peel my needy body off of yours and position me across the bed, commanding me to stay still while you fetch your belt to decorate my ass with hot licks from the familiar strap of leather. Over and over, in an unpredictable pattern, you shower my backside with attention until it turns the color of your desire, a deep blushing crimson-red. My ‘thank you Sir’s’ are breathless, and out of my pussy the nectar of desire flows unabated. You remark on how responsive my body is to your touch, I moan. I’m on the edge, I can burst into a billion fragments of light from a few more thrusts of your hand inside me, but you tell me “no, wait, not yet.” You plunge your fingers, wet with my juices, into my hungry mouth, and I whimper. You pinch my nipples and I feel like I’m going to drown in the deep waters of denial as I fight off the urge to explode. You flip me onto my back, pinning my arms behind me so you can whip my cunt and tits as I cry out. I held still for you, as still as I could, and you praise me for taking your beating so well. You dive down and your tongue explores the folds between my legs while my eyes rock back into my head. I can’t hold out, I can’t stay on the edge of arousal without spilling off the side into the abyss, but you don’t let me … you won’t let me go. You’re right there with me, holding me, taking my breath away, and then letting me draw in oxygen quickly before forcing your cock into my mouth. I’m grateful for this – I love having you inside of my mouth, and eagerly suck and swallow your shaft. You pull away, leaving me empty and desperate, as I claw against the bedsheets, thrashing my head in an effort to get you back in, but you’re positioning yourself between my legs. You push them apart and mount me, searing into my sex with an animalistic determination. Our eyes lock and we’re connected in that moment. Deep, guttural moans eminate from somewhere primal within us, and we relish in the fact that this is not ordinary love making, no, this is intense passion in the form of raw desire.
Mischief's Muse 