I want my partner to lace their fingers in my hair just above the nape of my neck. I want them to kiss me keeping me from going to dep, keeping me from pulling away. I want them to bend over so that I’m forced down on my hands and knees. Our faces inevitably broken of physical contact, but not of visual contact. There’s a hint of a smile on the lips but some combination of distant and evil playing across the eyes.
“Lick them” The command is given. I’m not into feet, I’m not a shoe licker, but that’s what makes it hot. I don’t do this for myself, but to please them and so I do. I lick with the tips of my tongue, I lick with the full flat. I make contact long enough that the warmth of my tongue can be felt through the shoe. It tastes grose. It smells like shoe and leather. But when they pull my head back to look into my eyes, they are pleased. I obeyed and I did it with as much enthusiasm and grace as I could muster.
They pull me up and push my head towards their groin. I orally please them, sucking and licking on their delicate bits. I can tell when I find the right spots because there’s a soft noise that escapes their lips and their grip on my hair tightens until it hurts. I wince but I do not stop until they shove me away. “Trying to make me come already?”
They smack my face. There’s no reason for it. No hate, no punishment. It’s simply because they can. I fall back slightly because of the impact, but I right myself and look back into their eyes. “How may I please you next?” The words are not spoken but they are plain across my face.
“Up.” I stand up.
“Turn.” I turn away from my partner.
They grab my hips with their left hand, their right hand pushes my face down onto the surface infront of me. They bend over and whisper into the crook of my neck, “You’re going to take it all aren’t you?”. Fingers start entering me. one, two, three… There’s some movement and wiggling as my wetness is distributed then the onslaught continues, four fingers now, all of them sliding in and out of me easily. The thumbis tucked and there’s pushing. I arch my back trying to pull myself away from the invading hand, but an arm is rested across my back to push me back into place. The dreaded 5th knuckle forces itself past and there’s a hand inside of me. I’m barely given time to breath when it starts moving inside me. They try to withdraw their hand but my body will not give it up so easily. Their free hand slides back into my hair and grabs. They pull their hand free of my body. I sigh. They shove their hand back inside me. This time it’s not a slow build up. My defenses are down and they are fucking me with their hand. I’m moaning.
“Fuck my hand”
I start rocking my body forward and backwards sliding their hand in and out of myself. At first its tender, but as I comply I feel myself getting turned on. My body is lubricating itself for what is to come. I slide forwards off their hand and when I move backwards to re-impale myself, there’s no longer a thin hand there but a fist. I pause for a second.
“Do not stop.”
I push my body backwards on the fist. The gentle slope from fingertips to knuckles is gone and replaced with the blunt width of a full hand, as I force my body back onto it, accepting it inside of me, for them. After taking the fist inside of me a few times I can feel the repeated exposure to air is drying up my lubrication. No relief still..
“Do not fucking stop.”
I wince as my labia become dry and sore. I whimper “ow” as they fist fuck me. I return to being prone under their arm. I want them to hurt me so they can feel good.
Finally, as tears start leaking out of my eyes, they stop. They pull me up to face them. They wipe their hand off on my face, smearing my tears and wetness together, sticking my hair to my cheek.
“Can you take everything?”
They pull me close as if to embrace me. One arm wraps around my upper back. The other hand finds it’s way to my ass. Two non-lubricated fingers penetrate my rear and pull up getting me onto my tiptoes and forcing me to lean into my partner. They bite my breast, hard. I want them to.
“Put some clothes on, we’re going to dinner… and don’t wash your face.”