His hips bucked and his head rolled back as he closed in towards climax. She felt his body tense as he pulled out of her mouth and grasped his cock, ...troking out a strong cum across her hair and face. He looked down and their eyes met. His was in devious satisfaction-- hers in shame. She lowered her head to avoid his look, but the man knelt over and gripped her chin, holding her head up so that he could see the mess of his cum slowly sliding down. “What do you say, you filthy whore?” . Patrick’s Day hats and necklaces, everything, No costumes. I was the only one dressed up, so to speak. I looked at Master and he just grinned at me. I would bare it, because it was what I was to do. While out and about, I am not to speak to anyone. Not even Master. He doesn’t care if the person is talking directly to me, I am not to open my mouth. This had been difficult for me for many months. Tonight was so different. The room I was in didn’t have a single male in it. There was no laughter,. He wasn't a total stranger - we both posted on many of the same writers' websites, and we'd had a long-running discussion on one particular board about why people pick particular story topics. His stories were mostly male/male scenes with some mind control subplots; mine tended toward dominance/submission, short sex-oriented vignettes, and romantic hetero or lesbian encounters, although I'd written one-off stories in a half dozen different fetish areas as well.I might still have turned him. Gasping at the contrasting sensations of her hot breath and cool tongue bathing my meat as it sank into her wet mouth, energising every nerve that stimulated an uncontrollable reflex in bringing my ass off the bed as I stretched out my hands to caress her glorious red hair, while her lips kissed their way down the length of my cock until they opened to take one of my balls into that icy fire and I cried out in sheer joy to feel her suck lovingly on each sac. The ice cooled my flesh and enflamed.
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