“This reminds me of the first time we met,” he giggles, before putting the fabric between his lips again. Infuriating and cute. Yeah, I gagged him that night as well, but my intentions were quite different back then. How things change.
I make a knot on the back of his head, loose enough for him to push the tie down, and being careful not to ruin his hair, or he won’t let me hear the end of it.
“Do you remember our safeword?” I kiss his nape.
He nods and winks.Apples. Not that he has ever used it.
I lift his hips, positioning him how I want, like the sexy toy he is only here for me to fuck. And the sight of him ready for me, legs spread, high heels, wet hole on display, shuddering with desire, makes my dick weep. I stroke it, letting pre-cum slick the red tip.
Art turns his head back and mumbles something, looking straight at it, but I can’t understand him. So he repeats it more slowly.
“Please, make it hurt.”
He is the embodiment of every seductive, erotic, filthy dream I could ever have.
I firmly grip him around the waist and then slam into him in one violent thrust. He cries around the necktie, clawing at the ottoman, his ass clamping viciously around me as I fight not to unload inside him. I let out a guttural, deep growl. Fuuuuck, I’m finally inside him again. I’ve been physically in pain the last four days, yearning for his warmth. His wet hole molds so perfectly around the shape of my dick.
He starts moving, fucking himself on my length, and moaning like a whore while showing me how much he missed my cock. It’s so hot how he is taking what he needs. How he’s using me for his own pleasure. I feel like a fucking dildo as I look at his ass riding me with fast, long thrusts. I grunt, stroke his ass cheeks, and look down at where we are joined, at my entire lengthsliding in and out of his stretched heat. I’m slick with his juice, the vision driving me fucking insane.
I grab the end of my necktie and pull his head back as I begin snapping my hips, fucking into him hard and rough. My only aim here is to use him until I come.
“You are right where you belong, on the end of my dick,” I murmur, eyes still on the bouncing flesh, jerking, taking a hard pounding. It’s fucking hypnotic.
“Fuck me rougher.”I think he moans around my tie. But instead, I slow down, too taken by his squelching hole opening so beautifully around me. All pink and shiny, gaping and stretched, and still clenching rhythmically. I spit on it even though lube is still coming out.
After a few seconds, I hear him practically sobbing. “Why did you stop?” he mumbles.
My dick is throbbing like it has a life of its own. I hiss, starting to piston my hips again. I’m turning ravenous, wild, rutting like an animal.
“Work it, slut.” I slap his bouncing ass cheeks. “Squeeze that tight hole and make me come. You’re sucking it so good.”
I’m already so damn close. I waited too long for this. I slide my hands under his thighs to spread him wider, battering into him. His cries are driving me insane. I grunt as I keep the tempo, pulling hard on my tie. I fucking love to have him so vulnerable under me, trusting I’ll give him what he needs. My ruthless rhythm becomes erratic as Art forces the climax out of me. His hole starts squeezing me, and I hold his ass snug against my pulsing cock to stuff him with hefty ropes of hot jizz.
Fuck yes! This is it. My fuck hole.Mine.
I keep giving it to him and groaning as I fill him up nice and full. After a minute, I pull out, savoring his shivering body as cum seeps out of him.
“You look like a used whore filled with jizz,” I rumble, licking my lips.
I let my dick rub against his ass crack, head kissing his wrecked pucker, balls brushing his cheeks. Fucking shit, I like to see my slick length gliding over his red, slick skin. I feel like beating my chest for how well I worked him.
“Feel that against your balls? It’s my cock throbbing, still hungry for a taste of your hole.” I growl.
He lets out a moan. His back is rising and falling, sweat dripping down his pale skin, necktie still in his mouth.
“When I was away, I kept wondering if you were crazy enough to leave me again,” I suddenly confess, caressing his spine.
He tenses, and I grip his hips hard in my hands, feeling the dreadful feeling spreading inside my chest again. He pushes his torso up and takes off the gag, turning to face me.
“This again?” He frowns at me.
I lift him in my arms and sit on the sofa with him on my lap.
“I am crazy, but I’ll never—” A scream rips out of his throat as I shove him down and impale him on my dick, stopping whatever he was going to say.
This fear I feel is irrational because deep down I know Art won’t ever run away again. But I like to remind him where he belongs, in my arms, on my cock.
“I’ll fuck any remaining idea of fleeing out of your mind,” I tell him, feeling his slick, narrow heaven around me again.