Jilling Off

There is something immensely satisfying about having muscles that ache from having them up in the air as a boy thrusts into you, pounds his cock into you so hard that your head is pushed back off the pillows and slips between the bars of your headboard. He tells you that he wants to fuck you from behind so you get on your knees and he pushes deep, deep inside of you. He asks if you want to ride him so you can watch him looking up at you in awe. But really, what you want is him pushing down on you again, covering your body with his, filling your world, filling up your head as he fills your cunt. You haven’t been fucked this hard for a very long time and it is fantastic, to lie back, to watch him do all the work, to feel your whole body shake. The slap of his body against yours makes your vision go blurry and you run your fingernails down his back and when he speeds up, faster and faster, you twist his nipples so that he comes, groaning, moaning, so much louder and more tangible than previous partners.

And the buildup was so simple, so direct, and yet you still got tingles when his hands went around your waist. There are no complications here, if we exclude your emotional baggage, so yes, the thrill of the chase may be missing, but this might actually grow into something that’s real, something you can keep and not have to return at the end of each night. And if it doesn’t, there’s no harm done, and a damn good fucking had.

A friend and I are in the lounge trying to decide where we want to have dinner that day, and I realise that I need to ask the boy that I am living with now, the boy who who shares my bed most nights, so I head to his room at the back of the house. He’s working on his computer as normal, so when we’ve finished our discussion I put my arms around him and kiss him on the forehead like I often do. I’m still overwhelmed that he exists, that I can touch him at almost any time, so I slide one hand down to his crotch, and start stroking his crotch, lightly. So often he’d push my hand away and tell me that I was “being naughty” but today he responds, spinning around to kiss me, and seconds later I am on my knees in front of him with his cock in my mouth while his ICQ messages bing away without him responding. Groaning with pleasure he opens the drawer where he keeps the condoms, and asks me if I want him inside me. I lie back eagerly on the floor – he is yet to buy a bed – and pull off my underpants, fingering myself. He grabs my breasts under my tshirt with one hand while carefully guiding himself into me. His cock is so big we have to take it slow at first, and it feels almost as if he is splitting me in two when he starts to thrust harder. But I love this feeling, I love his weight on top of me, I love the carpet beneath me, the curve of his shoulder blades, his close-clipped hair. I love him, and so when he is fucking me I am sure that he loves me too. But then I remember my friend in the other room, and I think that I should go back to her. I half sit up, laughing through our kisses that I was only supposed to take a minute. “You’re not going anywhere” he says, and he pushes me back down to the floor. We fuck more, but the prozac he takes makes it hard for him to come, and I start hurting, so I take him in my mouth again, as he jerks himself off. He comes across my tits, wipes me clean, and goes back to work. I return to my friend, face flushed.

Because it was New Year’s, and because we were in a beach town, my friend’s house was full of people so it was only fair that I offered to share the sofa bed that I was sleeping on. Two other guys crashed out on the floor, one on a bean bag, and the guy that hadn’t been giving me the eye all night rolled his sleeping bag out next to mine.

Because it was New Year’s, and because we were in a beach town, it was far too hot to sleep. I heard the breathing of the boys in the room slow down, and one started snoring, but I was pretty sure that the boy next to me wasn’t asleep. I was also pretty sure that his hand was snaking over to my side of the bed, softly drawing circles on my back. Was it on purpose? Was he really touching me? Did I want this to happen with the other boys in the room, or even at all?

I wanted to be sure, so pretending to stretch, I wriggled a little closer to his side of the bed. The hand stroking me was now unmistakeable. I rolled over and took his hand. There was a minute’s pause, a realisation that this was something that was happening before he started to stroke my arm again, and I reached out to touch him as well. His hands slipped up under my tshirt, found me braless, squeezed my breasts. I tugged lightly at his nipples, my arm grazing the top of his boxer shorts. I wasn’t sure how far he wanted this to go but he moved my hand down and I felt how hard his cock already was. His body went stiff as I took it in my hands, and then shook with the effort of keeping totally silent as my hand moved faster and faster. I could feel how much he was straining as he came in my hands, shaking and almost choking from trying not to cry out. I kissed him on his forehead, wiped my hand off on his shorts, rolled over and went to sleep. It was New Year’s, after all.

Sometimes it is so fucking hard to ignore how much i fucking want you inside of me, fucking me, taking me, making me lose control.

I know you prefer to play the sub, but you, on top of me, holding me down, pinning me to the bed, hands held above my head, cock thrusting into me, dominate me like that, please. Make me come half a dozen times with your fingers, lick me to orgasm more and again and again. Treat me like I am your dirty little fucktoy, because of course, I am, I could never be anything more.

I once had a friend who did sex work who always told me that I would make a fantastic dominatrix. The idea intrigued me, and I had some extra time over Auckland Anniversary Weekend, so I decided to plan out a treat for a gentleman caller.

Half the fun for me (well, maybe a 20th of it at least) was in the preparation. Knowing that he’d mentioned having his cock tied up, I discovered that CBT is not just Computer-Based Training, or indeed Cognitive Behaviour Therapy – it can all be Cock & Ball Torture. You learn something new every day! I managed to find this extremely NSFW step-by-step pictorial guide though, which came in handy (almost literally) before I had a chance to do the full routine on an earlier occasion when I was squeezing someone’s balls and was a little alarmed about how separate and jumpy-aparty each ball in its sack is. And the ballholder didn’t seem to have any problems with it either. Anatomy is strange.

Another area that I had to prepare myself in was my outfit. Obviously a corset, a riding crop and ridiculous platform heels would all be in order, but because I felt like I was playing a role, I added in a wig and a mask.

I laid out all the tools that I would be working with – scarves around the bed posts, a coil of cord for the CBT (and a pair of nail scissors in case it all went horribly wrong and needed to be cut off in a hurry), a blindfold, feathers, an ice bucket, a pot of hot tea, some feathers, my vibrator, some lube and there would have been a box of latex gloves if I hadn’t decided that that would just be creepy.

Then I put on my serious face, and set up a playlist to reflect my sternness. The gentleman caller arrived late, in need of punishment already, obviously, to find me angrily thwacking my riding crop across my gloved palms. He said “I’m going to like this” and I told him to shut his fucking mouth, stepped away from his kiss and ordered him to take off his clothes.

As soon as he was naked, already half hard, with me loving that I was still fully if somewhat ridiculously dressed, reinforcing my power, I smacked him really lightly on the ass, sat down on my bed, spread my legs and told him to eat my fucking pussy. He dived right in gleefully, and as I was pushed back on the bed, I realised the problem with the wig and the mask, because I constantly had to readjust them. Meanwhile his tongue curling around my clit, slipping around my cunt was starting to make me feel like I was losing control of the situation, even though I was holding his head fast in place, so I declared that he was enjoying it too much, and pulled him to his feet, then pushed him onto the bed.

He didn’t even pretend to struggle as I spread his arms to tie them apart, but he was intrigued when I looped the cord around his cock and balls, doubled it back around the ball base and then separated the two out. I licked his balls lightly in lieu of tying proper knots, and then decided that he was enjoying the sight of me working on his cock a little bit too much so it was on with the blindfold.

By this stage since he couldn’t see anymore, I figured it’d be more comfortable (and no doubt a fuck of a lot more safe) if I took off my shoes, so he got to hear the traumatic thuds of the platforms hitting the carpet below the bed. I was absolutely loving having him under my control. A couple of quick flicks of the crop – first to my own hand to get the good cracking sound, and then the lightest whisper of it across his legs had him tremble a little bit, so I upped the game.

I had never realised that an ice cube could be so entertaining, but as I dragged it up and down his legs and across his chest, he twitched and twitched, almost squealing. It was fantastic and I couldn’t help but start to giggle. To make it up to him a little bit, I took the ice cub in my mouth to cool it down, and then wrapped my lips around his shaft, giving his whole cock a quick suck, before I took a mouthful of warm tea and repeated the exercise.

I did a couple more passes around his body, alternating hands with lube on his cock, feathers and ice across his skin, before I knelt over him and allowed him to take my nipple in his mouth. He sucked as if his life depended on it, so I took my breast away, and turned my vibrator on, holding it to his balls, moving it along his cock and down t press on the perineum. By that stage, his blindfold was coming off, so when I declared that I may as well just use the vibe on myself instead of him, he could pin open my legs so he could watch everything I did to make myself come. In fact I came twice, loving that he was loving the show but was frustrated in his lack of ability to take part in it.

After I got my breath back, I noticed that his hand up against the headboard was turning purple. Oh fuck! I scrambled to untie it, and figured I might as well untie the other hand as well. I was having a hell of a time maintaining Fierce Face anyway, because really, I just wanted to be kissing him and having him finger-fuck me and eat me out half a dozen times.

Naturally, it turns out that he didn’t even see the wig which I abandoned halfway through the session. To quote “when I came in the door, I saw breasts, the mask and the riding crop and that’s all, I was so excited”. He didn’t notice the playlist either until we were cuddling and ‘Closer’ by NIN came up. Mogwai was my more subtle way of setting a scary mood.

I had fun trying out being a Dominatrix-Lite, and he had fun, so now I’m wondering when it’s going to be my time to receive someone else’s roleplay.