It's been awhile since I've written. This story is full of fun kinks. I hope you enjoy it. Would love to hear what you think. And if you'd like me to continue it.
jm08nyc@yahoo.com
My cheek flared with embarrassment only slightly cooled by the cool pane of glass it was being pressed against. My mind raced with the thoughts of who could see in the window from the other side, not realizing that at fourteen stories up the odds of anyone seeing in the blazing lights of the windows was slim.
I brought my mind back to the moment and re-focused my attention on my body as I felt his hands slide up my back and grab my shoulders, continuing to pile drive me from behind. He took control so easily - I gave him control so quickly.
My body was slick with sweat and he had to hold my shoulders extra tight, so that he wouldn't lose momentum, or risk me breaking through the window with the force he was pushing into me.
Hard. So hard. I didn't know I could take it like this. But from the moment that I met him a few weeks before, I knew that I wanted to give him everything I had - and more - and push my mind & my body past any limits I had set for myself.
And then, a momentary pause, and his hand moved from my shoulder to my hair, and pulled me roughly back against him, his other arm wrapping around my chest, his cock never leaving my ass. His mouth brushed against my left ear - I could feel his breath, hot and harsh, against the side of my face.
"You are mine. Now & forever. Your body. Every inch of it belongs to me, exists for me, is devoted to me," he whispered into my ear. Even his whisper had strength and domination in it - there was no doubt of his place in the world, or his place in my world. I was his.
Three weeks earlier...
I got home from a workout extra horny - I hadn't had sex in close to six months, and seeing the hard bodied studs at the gym was always a turn on. I was aching to be touched.
For tonight, it was up to me. Again.
I stripped off my gym clothes and left them in a pile on the bathroom floor, and laid down in the tub, taking my sweaty and used jockstrap with me. I left myself look down at my body as I lay there - hard, firm, muscular - a solid six foot tall jock boy, perfectly cut chest and abs - I worked on them relentlessly. Strong legs, a firm butt. A long, thick cut cock. I was the perfect example of a great body not equaling a great sex life. Thirty years old and I had yet to find a match. Mentally or physically.
I pulled the jock to my face and inhaled. I loved the scent, and it made my dick stir. I wrapped the straps around my ears, my nose covered by the pouch. Remnants of sweat, piss and cum - all my own - filling my nostrils. I let my eyes close as my hands dropped to my crotch. One playing with my balls, the other feeling the thickness of my dick.
I positioned my cock so it laid against my abs pointing straight up, took a deep, long breath, and let my piss start to flow.
It coated my abs, my chest, mingling with my sweat to matte down the light dusting of brown hair that was spread across my body. I used my hands to massage it in. It struck the jock. And my mouth.
Another deep, long breath. Relax. Decompress. I used some of the piss that had puddled on my abs to lube my now hard dick as I began to stroke. Up and down. Grinding my cock into my hand. The smell of sweat, piss, and precum making me heady.
Harder I stroked, imagining this hard bodied daddy I saw at the gym bending me over in the locker room. Fucking me roughly. And dumping his load inside me.
My cock ached. A few more quick strokes and my cum was flying. Smashing onto my pecs, hitting my forehead, and coating the pouch of my jock which was still covering my face. My breath ragged. I sighed deeply.
A let out a long, low moan... "fuck."
Pulling the jock from my face I slid it down my body, letting it soak in the piss and cum until I reach my dick and used it to squeeze the last few drops of spunk from the tip of my cock. I scooped up the cum that had landed on my chest and licked it off my fingers, and then curled up in the fetal position and passed out.
I woke up to my phone buzzing in my gym bag, left where I had dropped it on the bathroom floor. I groggily reached an arm out over the edge of the tub and pulled it towards me, fishing the phone from the pocket, and realizing I had only been asleep for a couple of hours.
The phone flashed with a notification, letting me know that I had a new message on a hook-up app that I had signed up for a few days earlier. I set the phone back down, sat up, turned on the bath, and cleaned myself up.
Laying in bed a few hours later I went back to that notification, pulling it up on my phone.
I had signed up for the app based purely on curiosity - it was one devoted to kink, which while I had dabbled in it on my own, had never been part of a relationship (sexual or otherwise) I had with another man before.
I broke up with Anders a year earlier, and I hadn't dated or slept with anyone since. Anders was probably the nicest guy I ever dated - a tall, gorgeous Swedish guy I met while in Barcelona on vacation two years prior. We had an instantly strong connection, we had a blast while traveling, and a lot of fun fucking. I was living in London at the time and Anders was sowing his wild oats. He came back to London with me, and sowed his oats in me for the next two years.
We had fun. But it was never anything more than fun. There was no true, deep emotional connection. No real desire for something long-term. We lurched along from one party, event or gathering to the next, always following back on our physicality when things turned too serious.
Eventually, enough was enough. I wanted something more, knew that I deserved something more, and Anders wasn't the one to give it to me.
In the last year, while single, I had been exploring the ideas and possibilities of kink more and more - there was literally nothing I couldn't find on the internet and so much of it piqued my curiosity. I bought some gear, and tried many things out on myself.
In fact, even now, as I laid in bed flicking through the app and debating whether or not to respond to the man's message, I had a butt plug firmly inside me. Filling me in a way I didn't know I could be filled.
I went back to the message again.
His username was David. Who knows if that's a real name or not. I was skeptical about everything on these apps, but at the same time, I ached for something more.
David. 35 years old. British. An architect.
Had lived in Rome for the last four years, so - longer than me - and split his time between the city and the country.
He only had one photo on the app - a simple, professional headshot - he was dressed in a tux & clearly had been attending some sort of fancy function. Unlike most people who seemed to have half a dozen photos of themselves in various sexual positions and forms of dress.
I, similarly, only had a single photo of myself. Taken last spring on a vacation in the Bahamas. I was tan, relaxed and happy.
His description was pretty short & sweet. He was "looking for the one."
No details of his sexual proclivities. No demands of the person who might have sex with him. No specific expectations.
And his message was equally as short & sweet. "Welcome to Rome, we'll have a drink Thursday at 830pm."
It wasn't a question. Not a suggestion it. It felt like... like a command. And, as I read it for the 50th time, I could feel my cock stir and my ass squeeze the plug tightly.
He was waiting in the bar for me when I walked in - I double-checked my watch to make sure I wasn't late... no, he was early. With two glasses of wine waiting on the bar counter for us.
He had a wide, handsome smile and pulled me close as we hugged hello.
The evening was... lovely. Good wine, better conversation, he seemed like an all around great guy. It felt like a date - a really good date. Not the pretense to a "hook up" but the pretense to something... potentially... more.
We talked about life and work and travel and everything in between.
The chemistry between the two of us was undeniable.
A few hours later and he was walking me home - I had only lived in Rome a couple of months and wasn't completely sure how to make it home, drunk, from a strange bar in a new part of town.
And then, he was a gentleman, a kiss goodnight on my doorstep. And a gentle wish for "good night."
No sex. Nothing even approaching sex. Which, actually, was okay.
But, then, I didn't hear from him the day after, or the day after that. Three days after our date I sent him a text - "Had a great time the other night, let's do it again soon."
No response. For three more days. I had basically given up on him responding, chalked how well our date went up to chance, and was preparing to move on - disappointed, but resilient.
And, then, a message - "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Please come to my place this evening at 930pm - I would like to talk."
Again, the command.
I had dinner plans with some coworkers, which I begged off of - I was a little surprised at how easily I responded to his demands after days of annoyance at not hearing from him.
I rang his bell promptly at 930pm and was buzzed into his building - a gorgeous old palazzo that had been turned into luxury apartments. His house took up the entire fourth floor and I found myself stepping off the elevator and directly into his apartment.
He was waiting.
"Hello, James, I'm so glad that you decided to come over," he said lowly as he walked towards me, embracing me in a firm hug. He was just slightly taller than me, with sandy blonde hair and fair features, we were virtually the same size, but I felt small in his arms.
"David, hi, I'm happy to see you again, I had such a nice time with you the other evening, but then when I didn't hear from you, I got nervous that maybe you weren't interested..." I couldn't stop the words from pouring out of my mouth, rambling and barely coherent and more than a little nervous.
I'm sure he could sense me shaking slightly in his arms and held me tighter. I liked the feeling.
"Our time together the other evening," he responded, "was very nice indeed. It's rare to meet someone who I'm so compatible with - I felt a strong connection to you on a personal, intellectual level. Tonight, I'm hoping that you'll be open to seeing if we have a strong connection on a physical, sexual level."
We made eye contact, and I'm sure he could see my surprise. He was forward there was no doubt about that. And in control. I didn't know what to say, so i just maintained eye contact and gave a small nod "yes."
He smiled broadly. Kissed me firmly. And, then, unexpectedly, moved his hands to my shoulders and pushed down, forcing me to fall to my knees.
Not breaking eye contact, David said, "And now we'll begin."
An hour later and I was breathing raggedly, struggling against the ropes that held me bound against the bench. My heart racing. He had left me like this for what felt like forever, but was probably no more than five minutes. After he spent twenty minutes inspecting my body from head to toe - poking, prodding, commenting - all while I was instructed to remain perfectly still and silent - he led me down the hall and into a dark room with the bench in the middle.
He laid me face down, and bound my arms and legs to the legs of the bench, rope bound my stomach against the bench, and he had pulled my cock and balls out from underneath me, so they stuck out between my legs - he had wrapped a rope around the base of my cock and balls and would tug it intermittently as continued to feel up every inch of my body.
If there was any doubt about whether I was turned on, my cock answered it with a resounding "yes" - it hurt I was so hard, it throbbed against the binding, and it dripped precut all over the bench.
Finally I could see his feet underneath me, could feel his presence standing over me, and - without warning - heard the sound of air and the hard smack of his palm as he landed his palm firmly on my right cheek. I screamed.
As much as I had fantasized about a moment like this, I had never experienced it, and being spanked by this incredibly gorgeous, controlling, intelligent man caught me a little off guard.
That first scream would be my last. He leaned down next to me, his mouth against my ear, and whispered, "you will take this. You will show me how well you can take this. I will view another scream like that as a sign that you are not interested in continuing, and I will kick you out and will never see you again."
He began to beat my ass, smack after smack, for what felt like an eternity. My ass hot and hurt.
Eventually, he slowed, then stopped. His face again next to my ear, his whisper, "I'm incredibly turned on by you right now. You've taken more than I had anticipated you would. Your ass looks amazing - bright red, so firm, and so beautiful."
His voice. His words. They made my dick harder. I felt proud of myself. I wanted to prove myself to him. I wanted him to feel that way about every inch of my body & mind. I wanted him for myself.
It was about six hours later that he finally began to fuck me, bent over in front of the window. He told me that he wanted the world to see what a slut I was, how much of a faggot I was for his cock. And he wanted them to know how turned on that made him, how he wanted the world to see that I belonged to him and that we were beautiful together.
The entire experience had been challenging and thrilling.
Even now as he fucked me against the window.
His breath growing more rapid, harsh. He was close. He pushed my face back against the window. And resumed his long, hard strokes. His nine inch, thick dick pushing in and out of my tight hole. Harder, faster.
And, then, the moment we had been building towards, I could feel his cock pulsing inside me - his shots of cum caught in the condom he was wearing - I was left to imagine what it would've felt like flying freely inside me. I was completely absorbed in the moment. He continued to rock himself in and out of me as he came down from the high of his orgasm.
He pulled me back into him as he slid his cock from my ass and turned me around to face him.
He kissed me, passionately, deeply. And held me close to him.
He opened his eyes to look directly into mine, and with his lips barely brushing mine said slowly, "James, you are an incredibly beautiful man, you're the first man I've met in years who has turned me on so much - mentally and physically. I'm so excited to have met you, and so excited to get to know you more. And, I'm excited to help you become the submissive that I can tell you want to become."
I really didn't know what to say, here was this beautiful man, who had basically used me for the last seven hours, beating me, playing with, fucking me - he was essentially professing his love for me. It was a wild ride.
"Yes, okay," was about all I could manage back. He laughed gently.
He led me into the bathroom, drawing a bath and then pulling me in with him. He bathed me, making sure that every inch of me was clean and perfect, caring gingerly for my well used ass - cheeks & hole. And then he wrapped his fist around my cock and began to stroke it - I was still rock hard - I had been for hours. And there, in the tub, laying against his powerful body, with his hand on my cock and the other playing with my nipples, I had the most intense orgasm of my life. He stroked me relentlessly, working every drop of cum out of me, until I was exhausted, expended, and incredibly satisfied.
TO BE CONTINUED?