Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Part 1
Warm liquid poured over his veiny skin and he pressed his fingers into it. It was soft under his fingertips, and submitted as he applied pressure, gushing with even more liquid. It came out bubbly and white, squirting with the increasing force of his fingering. The evening sun poured through the window with a serene amber light, filling the room with a heat that added to the steaminess splashing his rippling forearms. Luckily his shirt sleeves were rolled up as always, stopping just below his elbow. His strong hands rubbed it hard, massaged it, and finally he relaxed his hands. He held the glass under the tap, removed the foamy sponge, and rinsed it of suds before placing it on the draining board.
His fingers were soft, supple with the hot water turning his skin a blushing shade of red. He felt hot, slightly out of breath, but that was perhaps more due to the thoughts in his mind. He imagined her walking up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her hands sliding down his arms, down his back and around his waist. Hugging him softly from behind, pulling her breasts against his back. He imagined one of her hands going further, finding his stiffening penis and grasping it firmly through his trousers. He imagined her rubbing it, and realised that he was grinding against the kitchen counter. Her other hand rose to find the buttons of his shirt, expertly undoing them with one hand while still massaging his bulge.
He heard high-heels clacking through the doorway behind him and his fantasy dissipated. He no longer imagined her leaning her naked body into his back. Her imaginary hand had disappeared from his bulge, which was now even harder. He stopped grinding against the counter and focused on finishing the washing up. Her heels came to a stop a few paces behind him, but she was his slave and he knew that she would wait patiently. He did not even look over his shoulder, working quickly so that he could turn the tap off.
“Good afternoon, Amy.”
Part 2
At long last, the water dripped from the tap and then it stopped completely. He çeşme escort took his time. He took a step back, wiped his steaming hands on the towel, and he had to admit that he liked the look of his huge, pulsing veins. He held his arm up to the light and gravity drew the blood from his arms, shrinking the veins until his arm looked normal again. He placed the towel on the side, turned on his bare feet, and there she was. Such a beautiful thing.
The first thing he saw was her lips, so plump and pink and juicy. Perfect for kissing. Her eyes were made up with a small amount of liner, thickening their black outlines, emphasising her glimmering pupils and pretty brown eyes. The roots of her hair were also brown, but transitioned quickly to blond that skimmed her shoulders. She had a cute nose and slightly rounded cheeks, with a soft jawline that came in sharply to a chin that was perfect for pinching. Around her neck was a black collar with a ring at the front.
She wore nothing on her torso, her large and rounded breasts hanging deliciously from her chest with small nipples and faint areolas. A black, lace suspender belt was adjusted around her wide hips and anchored a pair of thin black leggings to her thighs, disappearing into those huge black high-heels that were perhaps a little bit too tall. Still, being half a foot shorter than him, those heels leant her an additional height that brought her eyes a little bit closer to his. Her delectable and rounded rump was firm and her shaven clitoris was presented by her shoulder-width stance. Had he not been hungry before, he certainly was now.
He approached slowly, his feet silent on the tiled floor of the kitchen, and he placed a hand on each hip. She raised her arms to his shoulders, bending her elbows and gently hugging the back of his neck. He looked down into her eyes, reciprocated her calm smile, and he turned her until she was pressed against the brown, marble table to his left. He stepped in and grinded his bulge on her thigh. Their eyes closed and he craned başakşehir escort his neck for a soft peck of her tasty lips.
Part 3
He leaned harder against her thigh, teasing himself on the warmth of her skin as he pressed himself against her and hugged her lower back. She arched herself into his body, pressed her breasts against his dark-blue shirt, and their tongues slipped from their lips. He licked her lips, she bit his, and their tongues danced in the air. Their faces turned over each other, her hands held his face, and the growing passion urged him to take a firm grasp of her buttocks. He squeezed both cheeks and she hugged his face harder, drawing breath through her nostrils so that she did not have to break from the deep tonguing. Her backside was so firm in his claws, his nails sinking into her flesh in a desperate attempt to gain some satisfaction. She kissed him deeper still, he leaned even harder against her and his blood boiled. Her thigh rubbed harshly against his bulge and it was driving him mad.
He pulled out of the kiss, raised his hands to her breasts and turned his face to kiss her cheek. She combed her fingers up the back of his neck, through his short hair while he travelled down her jawline, down her neck, all while fondling her chest so hard that she sighed and winced. Her lips parted, her breaths heavy in his ear. He squeezed her right breast tightly, removing her collar with his other hand to let his tongue lap at the crook of her neck. Her heel slipped forward, her thigh tightening between his legs.
His hips rocked, massaging his pulsing member on her leg while his cheeks flushed at the wonderful sensation of her neck, radiating heat onto his face. He kissed, licked, bit hard and she whimpered, let out a whisper.
“Sir,” was all she could say. He caged her breasts in his palms and tensed fingers, relishing in the tantalising sensations of such bulbous mounds of flesh. He growled as his lips continued down her collar bones and towards her sternum, where he küçükçekmece escort licked again and drew another sigh from her parted lips. He was aware of how much she was enjoying this, her fingers clawing and combing his scalp while her back arched and she pushed her chest out for him.
Amy was a special Submissive, for he had given her a special type of training. Amy was a submissive slave, joyful in her role to be nothing more than his plaything to enjoy. She was a toy, a beautiful and delicious specimen of curves and steaming hot meat. She had one task, and that was to satisfy him physically. It had taken some time, though surprisingly not much. Her desire to please him had expedited her brainwashing, and before long she had achieved her goal. You see he had trained her, under her permission of course, to be almost completely mute. She was his sexual servant, so she did not have a need to make requests. She was solely for his pleasure, even if that meant being pleasured. She therefore did not need to say please. She still needed manners, though, so he had allowed her the right to say ‘thank you’. More importantly she needed a safe word, as that is something that should never be taken from a Submissive. The right to be safe. Her wellbeing, though she was not fussed as long as he was happy, was paramount to him. She obeyed and was trained to use her safeword when necessary. Lastly, in combination with her manners, and as a standalone for when she needed his attention; she was given permission to say ‘Sir’.
Amy was a fantastic Submissive, so obedient and loyal. No matter what he told her or did to her, if he enjoyed it then so did she. He sucked on her breasts, groped them passionately in his paws while she hugged his face into her chest and hummed delightfully at the wonderful tingling in her body. She giggled, enjoying the way his tongue coated her breasts in his thick, hot saliva, and she sighed long and hard.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said. It was all she could say, for she could physically only say four words. ‘Red’, ‘Thank you’, and ‘Sir’.
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32