The Blow Job

I want to be on my knees and face fucked; saliva hitting my thighs as I’m kneeling before a thick, rigid, throbbing cock. I want to feel hands in my hair, gripping and pulling–urging me on. My hands, pressed into ass flesh as I grab and pull forward to urge on in return.

I want to be pushed down onto the bed, onto my back, legs aggressively forced open by your body moving between them. To feel your hand around my throat, pressing down–your breath against my face as you tell me to come on your cock or else you’ll flip me over and make my ass sting.

Even when I do come, I don’t cry out–because I don’t want you to know. You feel me tighten, contract, release, get hotter–wetter. So of course you do know and just chalk my defiance up to my being a bad little girl; so you pull out of me quickly–flip me over, grab my hips and yank me up.

Slamming into me you fuck me hard as you smack my ass until it’s a bright red, smacking it more until it’s almost a bruise. Knowing by now that I’ve come more than just a few times; you grab me by my hair, pull my head back and lean forward to tell me that you’re going to come; and after you do–you’re going to expect me to clean you up.

So we end as we began: me on my knees, your hands in my hair, your cock in my mouth.

Spinning Class

Shit! I’m late for spinning class again!

I run into the locker room and change quickly, then head for the spinning hall in a hurry. There is one available bike. Next to Dan.

Yes! I say to myself, with a little thrill. Dan is so insanely gorgeous, I’ve been drooling over him for two months. I’ve even tried to make contact with him, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested–not in me or anybody else.

Oh, well, you’re always allowed to dream, I think as I hop on my bike and start to pedal softly. I turn right hoping to catch Dan’s eye and say hi, but as usual, he seems to be in his own world. Lame. But God damn, he’s so beautiful!

Our instructor comes through the door, breathless, but exceptionally sunny as usual.

Well it’s not just me who’s late, I think, kind of satisfied with myself.

“Today we’re going to work hard, everyone!” she said, walking to the front of the room. “Are you ready?”

Yes, I’m ready! I think. Fuck, I haven’t had sex for three months–I need a release for all my sexual frustration!

The instructor puts on music. Techno, as usual. I put on a little resistance on my spinning bike, and feel the muscles in my legs slowly start to wake up. I cast a glance to the right again; Dan doesn’t not seem to see me at all.

Whatever, who gives a fuck? I think to myself. Suddenly I’m really irritated and I decide to give everything I’ve got today. Five minutes go by, and I put on even more resistance. Starting to get warm now. Ten minutes: a drop of sweat runs down my forehead. I put on more resistance until I feel the acid burst in my thighs. I slow down the intensity a bit and drink some water. I take this opportunity to look at Dan.

He’s working the bike inhumanly hard and I see the sweat running down his face, his thigh muscles are hard and strained. I take a last sip of water and increase the intensity of my spinning again. Twenty minutes have passed, and now I’m really hot and sweaty. Beads of sweat run everywhere–I’m starting to feel horny. I always get horny when I get really hot.

Suddenly I feel something wet hit my right arm, I look down. There are four drops of sweat. They’re not mine. It’s Dan! He ran his hand through his hair and splashed me!

Oh my God, I think, horrified. Do not do this to me! It almost makes me come.

Instead, I turn to him and snap: “Hey! You’re sweating on me!”

I hold up my right arm to give him the proof. He looks at my arm, no sign of recognition or feeling in his eyes. His lack of response arouses the devil in me and while he’s still looking at my arm, I bring it to my face and lick his drops of hard work.

His eyes suddenly come to life, and I feel shy when I see the new expression in them–he looks like Satan himself, and he has come up from hell to get me. His tongue slides along his lips, deliberately seductive. He brushes his hand through his hair again–this time on purpose–and his salty rain pours down on me.

Help! I think. What happens now?

I press down the brakes of the bike and come to a stop. He gets off his bike, takes me firmly by the wrist and drags me out of the spinning hall. Outside the room, we don’t exchange a word. He pulls me down the corridor and into the handicap restroom.

He slams the door shut and locks it. I see my life pass in review. Does he intend to kill me? Suddenly, I’m afraid, but part of me is excited, and I feel a jolt shoot from my stomach to my pussy.

“Undress!” Dan commands.

I hesitate.

“I said: get undressed!”

I dare nothing else than to do as he says.

“Do you feel tough now?” he asks me, angry-eyed.

“N-n-no, err-no,” I stutter.

“You were so tough before, that’s suddenly over?”

“I don’t know,” I say with a soft voice.

“I think you need a little discipline right now.”

Should I lie down? I wonder. Should I roll over and play dead?

Dan jumps at me, takes hold of my neck with one hand and pushes me against the wall. My pulse races, hitting 250 at least. He leans towards me.

“Little whore!” he says, before pressing his mouth against mine in a greedy French kiss.

He presses his entire body against mine, and I can feel that he likes what he’s doing. He is adamant. My stomach is burning now, the lowest part, and I’m not afraid anymore, I only wish that he would take me, here, right now, immediately. He has other ideas.

He tears himself away from me and takes off his shirt and shorts. His entire body is glistening in sweat. I want to lick all of him, and before I realize it, I am. Starting at the bottom of his calves, slowly approaching his upper body, I lick the knee, and up the inside of his thigh. I don’t touch his dick, I continue up the stomach and chest until I reach his neck.

I bite him there–hard. First, he’s paralyzed, but then he grabs hold of my hair and pushes me down.

“Suck my dick!” he says. “Do it well, bitch!”

I try fighting back, but he’s strong. He has me trapped on my knees.

I start to play around with my tongue on his dickhead. He drags me backwards by the hair, looking into my eyes.

“Did I say that you could lick my dick?” he demands. “No, I told you to suck me. Do it! Now!”

My legs stop working, they are completely numb. I’m so horny that had he not told me what to do, I wouldn’t have had any idea where or how to begin. But Dan knows exactly what he wants.

I lick my lips slide his hard dick into my mouth slowly. Completely. He moans deeply.

“Continue! If you’re good enough you’ll have permission to ride me.”

I am a sacrificial lamb in his hands. I do as I’m told. I enjoy the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my mouth.

He praises me, almost tenderly: “Good girl! You like to suck dick, don’t you?”

I start to increase my rhythm a bit, and he pulls me my hair harder. I take a firm grip around his balls with one hand, and begin to massage him between the balls and ass with the other.

“You like this you little bitch. Is your pussy wet now?”

He starts to fuck me hard in the mouth. I’m looking up at him, and when we get eye contact, he explodes in my mouth. Convulsions race through his sweaty body, and he slides down to the floor before me.

He covers my mouth and nose with one hand and commands, “Swallow.”

I can’t breathe–I have no choice but to swallow. I want him so badly, I feel almost like I’m about to burst. My legs are shaking, hell, my whole body is shaking.

But I’m a little disappointed, too. Is it over? I wonder. I got nothing!

In a sudden move, Dan gets up and takes hold of my neck. He pulls me up and bends me over the sink.

“Now I will check how much you liked this, and I bet my dick that you loved to be used. People like you tend to like it.”

He gets on his knees behind me, and I suddenly feel incredibly naked.

“Spread your legs so I can see properly,” he instructs.

I hesitate, feeling embarrassed. Brutally, Dan forces my legs apart.

“Your pussy is running. Like I said: you like to be used. Maybe I will use you more. And, I promised you pleasure if you did a good job on my dick. Do you think you deserve my cock in your pussy now?”

“Yes, you shit!” I hissed determined.

He takes a good hold of my ass cheeks and keeps holding them tight.

“Get rid of that attitude, you slut!” he exclaims. “If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’m the boss here! It is I who decides what is to happen and not. I control you now!”

I’m silenced and he buries his face into my pussy. Only a thin squeak escapes out of my mouth.

Oh God, so delicious!

“It tastes like your pussy is really horny,” he murmurs in between my lips.

I’m about to kneel, but he does get his arms around my thighs and keep me upright.

“Do you want my dick now?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my body trembling.

He slaps my clit. Hard.

“Say it! Say what you want!”

“I-I-want your dick,” I say uncertain.

“Say it like you mean it!”

He gets up, and with one hand firmly planted on my hip, he begins to rub his solid dick against my wet, shivering pussy. If my clit could talk, she would scream out what he wanted to hear. I feel an intense longing to feel him inside of me.

“I want your hard, throbbing cock inside my pussy now!” I say, turning to face him. “I want you to fuck me hard! I will do whatever you want, I just need you inside of me now, before I go insane!”

I have never talked that way before. But I have never been as horny as I am now, either. The feeling of being in his power is incredibly liberating; strangely enough, I feel perfectly safe.

“There. Now, you were good, my little whore. You did as I told you. It is absolutely correct. You have no choice but to do as I say.”

He turns me around, then takes hard hold of my tits and presses me against his chest. I’m shaking with expectation.

He rams his dick brutally into me from behind, and I shout out. As wet as I am now, it is completely impossible to harm me no matter how hard the thrust.

He continues to run into me hard, but slowly, and I feel that I might dissolve at any moment. Dan loosens his grip on one of my tits, and starts massaging my clit. Hard. Almost a little too hard. But I can feel that it doesn’t really matter at this point.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks.

My answer is a little whimper.

He increases the pace of his thrusts. Stronger, faster. Faster, faster. I know that I’m about to come, and my body starts to shiver. He stops.

“Are you coming? Did I tell you you could come now? No, I haven’t said a word about that.”

Tears are not far away now. Why is he so mean to me? I wonder. It must be how it is to be in hell.

He pulls out and takes me brusquely and sits on the lid of the toilet. I bet it’s cold, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Want more? I know you want more, come here and sit down on me.”

I almost can’t walk; simultaneously, I feel numb. I manage to sit down on his dick, facing him.

“Turn around!”

I get up and turn around, before I again sit down on him.

“Now we will see if you have skills enough to ride my dick. If you are really good I may let you come.”

Oh my god, is this guy for real?! I wonder.

Nothing I could have said would have mattered, and I find that it turns me on even more. I move forward with my hips, then backwards, trying to create a good rhythm. He gets a hard grip around my tits. I keep riding him for a couple of minutes, in a fairly quiet pace.

Dan doesn’t utter a sound, and it makes me panic. What if he doesn’t think I’m good enough? Then I won’t come!

“You should do a little better than that if you want me to let you come. You have to deserve the orgasm.”

I increase the pace considerably and used the muscles in my lower belly for all they are worth.

“There you go! That’s much better.”

I’m starting to get tired now. Exhausted from being so excruciatingly horny. My pace and intensity are gradually decreasing, and with panic I think he’s mad at me again. But No. He is happy with me.

“Turn around now,” he whispers.

I almost can’t do what he asks of me, but I make it happen somehow. He helps me in place, one arm around me, below my own arms. He keeps me firmly in place over his dick. We start again and he begins rubbing my clit. He increases the tempo and intensity, and I know that before long I’ll be coming. My body starts shaking, and he fucks me even more intensely.

“Are you coming? You want me to let you come this time?” he asks.

“Yes,” I moan, my voice hoarse.

“Do you think you’ve earned it? I think so, and now I will fuck you hard and watch you.”

I can’t talk. My brain is not present anymore. I explode in an orgasm that at least measures at seven on the Richter scale. My orgasm shakes his dick so violently that he roars loudly when he comes inside me. I can feel his cum, a volcano outburst of sperm. My tears are running freely now, and I sob noticeably. I sink down, putting my head on his shoulder and my arms around him. He kisses me softly on the shoulder, and loosens his grip.

“Let me look at you.”

I almost dare not look him in the eyes.

“Look at me,” he repeats.

I lift my eyes to his. The smile he gives me is comforting and boyish. He bursts out with a hearty laugh.

Who is this man really? What is he laughing about?

“You are beautiful!” he says, laughing.

He lifts me off of himself, and gets dressed quickly.

“I have to go now. Same time next week?” he asks, with a smile and a wink.

He does not wait for my answer, just closes the door when he leaves. There I am, naked and used.

But absolutely completely satisfied!

Wanda

Text from Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch.

Bound

Guadalupe at SubCamp, a Retoir treat courtesy of Fetishboxxx.

Fuck-Me Pumps

“What?” she looked at me. And then turned away. She seemed nervous by my stare. A flash of light came in through the windows. Her earthy scent permeated my nostrils. Her hair turned and twisted down her back. I could only imagine what she was going to do once I moved my hands up her black skirt. So tight, in fact, it was like a second skin.

“Do you want me?” she asked, lighting a cigarette.

“Do I want you? Want is not the word. Want is futile. Want is weak. I want to do things to you, yes. But want you? No. I crave you. So much, that I go through withdrawals. Physical withdrawals when you leave my presence. As we left the confines of that restaurant tonight, you said you had to go to the bathroom. When you went there, I almost went in after you.”

She smirked. “Oh yeah? You are that desperate for me?”

“It’s not desperation. It goes beyond that. I need you like I need to eat, breathe, have shelter. I need you. More than need you. I am an addict. You are my drug. I will give a lot to get a little of your time.”

“Hmmm… you talk a lot my friend,” she said, inhaling another drag and blowing it in my face.

“You are a fool you know,” she said, as her five and a half inch red heel started to move up my leg. Her smoky eyes with their green centers. She stared at me now as the tip of her heel rested on my throbbing cock.

“Do you like my shoes?” she asked. Her lips red like fire.

“Yes. I do,” I was breathing harder.

“If you could fuck me, would you keep these on?” she took a sip of her champagne as she gently stabbed my cock with her stiletto.

“Yes. I would.”

I grabbed her red fuck-me pump and raised it up in the air. Her leg trailed behind. It was smooth and glowing under the light of the street lamp outside. My hand gently ran down her calf and up to her inner thigh. She gasped and bit her lower lip.

As my hand hastily drifted toward her panties, I moved her thigh outward so she was open.

“Touch it,” she whispered.

Wait. “No. Wrap your thighs around my neck,” I demanded.

She obeyed.

Her milky thighs opened even wider, her legs extended to either side of the chair where she sat. She leaned back and moved her legs into the air. Her stilettos pointed to the opposite walls. Like daggers, they stabbed the heavy, hot air. Slowly, she moved them toward my shoulders. Her legs wrapped themselves around my neck. I heard her heels snap against each other. She pulled my head closer.

“My panties,” she said. “You didn’t take them off.”

My fingers found the tiny strings. They were a poor excuse for underwear. With a snap, they ripped.

“Yes I did.”

She giggled.

My tongue entered her juicy lips. She was dripping. A little stream ran down her left butt cheek. It tasted like skin and smelled like musk. I breathed it in and savored her flavor. My mouth kissed her smooth glossy lips, her clit red and pulsating. Over and over. Lick, lick. Over and over again.

“Fuck me, OMG, fuck me!” she begged.

Her legs flew off of my shoulders and her pumps hit the tile. Click! I couldn’t help but notice her defined legs walking across the floor in those shoes. Every step making her muscles tighten and relax, tighten and relax, just like a woman’s cunt. Tighten and relax. Her ass moved gently toward the bedroom. Tighten, release, tight, release.

She threw her tank top and pink bra to the floor. Her breasts were plump. She flung herself on the bed. Long hair falling onto white sheets, her body open to my cock, her red stilettos still attached to a magnificent body eager to be fucked.

“I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Do you?” I asked as I unzipped my slacks. My cock bounced outward. It pointed at her luscious figure.

“Yes please.”

And so, I let her.

Ananke

Whoosh!

The curtains in the bedroom of our suite at The Standard whispered violently as I pushed them open. I closed my eyes and allowed my skin to swallow the warmth of the sinking sun, through the pollution, and the buildings, and the glass. I felt a delicate finger trace the tendons of my neck, a body press strongly into my back, and, in Mandarin, a voice inquiring softly into my ear if I had had a good flight.

I was visiting LA from Honolulu for three days to attend a design conference. My on-again, off-again lover, The Painter, was in town from San Francisco for a client presentation. (Apparently, we were “on-again”.) His other arm had embraced my chest by this point, pulling me so far into him that I could feel his muscled length grind lewdly  into me from behind. He whispered again, this time in English, as my head rolled lazily back onto his shoulder.

“Did you do what I asked?” he inquired, drawing the final “S” out into a seductive hiss.

“Yes,” I drawled softly in return, my hand reaching up and behind his head to run my fingers through his hair.

(A few days before our departures he had requested during one of our conversations that I remove all of what little body hair I had, that it was for “a surprise”.)

He curled his fingers into the blond curls at the nape of my neck and tugged my head back harshly, making my lips part in a gasp. His head bent down, his lips parted, his mouth hovered over mine, not touching but close enough so that I could smell wine and cigarettes on his breath.

He smiled. “Go take a shower,” he laughed. “And make sure you’re completely dry afterward.”

I re-emerged into the bedroom clean and completely dry as requested, the sun a mere memory through the window. It was dim in the room, with only candles burning (where had he gotten those?), but I could see that the bed had been turned down, could see him moving about at the foot of it. He was naked.

He looked up, smiled widely, and said, “Come. On your stomach.”

I could see an ashtray and my cigarettes and a glass of wine and a book from my carry-on on the far night table, so I stretched myself languidly toward them across the bed. He pushed my legs apart roughly, all of me splayed before him. I showed no sign of pain and lit a cigarette, opened my book, began to read. I heard the metal locks of a wooden box behind me being opened, the sound of a bottle cap being unscrewed.

I had just finished reading the first paragraph of my book when I felt his first wet brush stroke on my back: he was painting on me, writing on me. I had been hard already but I instantly became harder, as there are few things that turn me on more than writing on a body. I tried to focus on my reading while my thighs flexed slightly, attempting to surreptitiously hump the bed’s coverlet.

His strokes began slowly, between my shoulder blades (touch and go, touch and go), before he straddled my hips and began drawing characters that were bolder down the curvature of my spine. He pressed his brush more firmly into my flesh with each stroke of his black ink. There were other strokes, as well, of course; between each stroke of the brush I also felt a stroke of his dick between my ass cheeks (paint, stroke, paint, stroke).

I inhaled sharply and looked up from my book, saw the winds blowing the curtains into the room, and took another drag from my cigarette, its white smoke mingling with the white sheer curtains on the downtown breeze.

He leaned over me. “Keep reading,” he whispered huskily, breathing hard. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I flicked my cigarette into the ashtray and bowed my head again, reading the words in my book as he painted his own on my back, the only sound in the suite that of air: through the window from the street outside, and our mutual increased breathing of desire. When he reached my coccyx, his strokes slowed. I felt only the smallest of brush points. Until I felt his hot breath, and then the tip of his tongue, on my asshole.

I threw my book to the floor and whispered hoarsely, “Fuck me. Please. I need it.”

“On your knees,” he breathed. “Spread your thighs more.”

I was beyond insane as I felt him, his head between my thighs, stopping after each character to run his tongue along the length of my dick, sign his name down the inside of each of my thighs. I felt the bed shift with his weight, heard the clink of the brush against a water glass, and felt his strong hands grip my hip bones fiercely. “Ass up,” he said. I quickly obliged.

I moaned as I felt him press his head against my hole, relaxing my muscles so that they could swallow his length. A low moan emitted from my throat as he exhaled air in a whistle between his teeth behind me just as his head slipped in. My muscles were moving quickly, almost of their own volition, wanting to impale myself on his flesh. But I knew he liked it: liked taking a moment to look down at just the tip of his dick inside my ass, as my hole worked its flesh around him; liked reading whatever story led down my spine to his dick in my ass.

He began pulling me slowly onto his dick. I opened my ass to him as I moaned into a pillow and reached around behind him to push him into me with one hand on his ass. He took it slowly, savoring each second of flesh meeting flesh, each inch of his dick being enveloped by my interior, until his thighs finally came to rest against mine, and I could feel his balls on my ass.

Then nothing was slow.

He fucked me hard, up above my body, pounding it into the bed, pounding his dick into my ass. His fingers splayed across my lower back, positioning my hips exactly where he wanted them in order to fuck me the hardest, slowing only to curl his hands through my hair and pull me up to him so that he could whisper into my ear, “Do you like that dick?”

“Yesssss,” I said, squeezing his dick with my ass.

“Do you need that dick?” he whispered, lower this time, and flexing his dick inside of me.

“Yes,” I hissed, trying to kiss him. “I need that dick.” (Squeeze. Squeeze.)

“Do you want my cum?” he whispered. (Flex. Flex.)

“Yes,” I whispered, desperately. “Yes, I need your cum.” (Squeeze. Squeeze.)

As he almost growled and pushed me back down onto the bed, repositioning my hips, I could feel droplets of the black ink that had smeared between my back and his chest fall like sweat from my body to the bed below. But I didn’t care because that was when my vision clouded, and all I could focus on were the guttural sounds he was making, the feeling of his hands clutching my hips, the violent thrusts of his dick, the feeling in my own dick as he reached below me to pinch one of my nipples.

And then I was coming. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t feel anything but my orgasm except the fact that my ass was making him come, too, nearly yelling, above me, pushing his cum deeply, violently, into me. After one final thrust, I felt his muscled chest slam wetly onto my back, felt his hands caress my arms until they had reached my own hands. He entwined his fingers between my own as cheek against cheek we tried to catch our breathing. We stayed like that, thighs quaking, for several minutes, before he extricated himself from me and we both rolled over, smiling.

“Fuck,” he breathed, smiling sideways at me.

“Right?” I said, smiling wryly back at him. “Dinner?”

“Oh, hell yes!” he laughed, bouncing his lithe body off of the bed and into the suite’s bathroom.

I rose from the bed, noticed my book on the floor, and bent down slowly to retrieve it and a bookmark from a long-forgotten bookstore in Manhattan that had fallen out of it. At the top of the bookmark, in my handwriting, was written, “Ananke = Necessity”.

“Oh. My. God.” I heard him say behind me as he emerged from the bathroom. I turned quickly and my eyes immediately followed his, to the nearly destroyed white linens, now soaked in ejaculate and sweat and black ink.

I laughed.

“Housekeeping is going to be so pissed.”

Rockstar Sex

I met Brooks through work. During our initial interactions, he let slip that he’d been a rockstar in the 80s. So I asked him if I could interview him. Not about music or fame, either. About sex. If there is one thing more interesting than fucking like a porn star, it’s fucking like a rockstar and I wanted my hands all over it.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Shits and giggles.”

So I met him one afternoon at St. Nick’s, a fave hole-in-the-wall to see if I could get some dirt on the best rockstar sex ever.

“You wanted deets about some romps,” he said. “I have a few memorable ones.”

“Nice. Shoot.”

“I was playing one of those huge rock clubs called Metro 107 in Miami. I met this Cuban/German girl, at least that was the heritage she claimed, named Marie. Incredibly hot: dark skin, blue eyes, fucking amazing skin–flawless. Retarded how pretty she was, I mean I was already a road dog at the time, but regardless, my heart would literally skip a beat when I saw her. That kind of hot, dig?”

“So what happened?”

“That night, we ended up going back to her place at like 5:60AM. She had a condo in SoFi area of South Beach. I guess she was a model and her papa was in the export biz, blah blah. Anyway, total femme fatale in the classic sense. She had me doing things that I wouldn’t normally do.”

“Like what?” I asked. “She had you doing what kind of things?”

“She used to cry when either of us would cum,” he replied.

“Cry?”

“Sometimes she would literally beg me into every inch of her. Other times she’d be all Nadia doing gymnastics.”

“Wait, she cried? Like, really cry? With sounds? Or just tears?”

“Really cry. And other times she was less emotional.”

“Wow, what a freak.”

“It was like she had a split personality.”

“So condom or bareback?” I asked, not too interested in the mushy emotional details of the broad.

“I wasn’t smart,” said Brooks. “But it was the 80’s.”

“Glory of the 80s, I was, like, five.”

He laughed, “anyway, I started noticing the different behavior patterns in her.”

“Oh, man,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. It was becoming obvious that he wanted to rant about their relationship gone sour due to her insanity.

“Then the different flaws,” he went on. “The mannerisms, body language, timing, the different cock sucking technique. I mean I noticed em before but I guess I shrugged ’em off.”

“Uh huh, so your hot girl had multiple personality disorder.”

“I thought so. Then the big reveal one night, I’m introduced to Adriana and Alegria. My mind froze, I was like uh… twins?”

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed, nearly spilling my Red Bull and vodka, all of a sudden back into the story.

“Vamps from hell,” he said. “Or heaven.”

“Please, please tell me there is a threesome in this story,” I begged.

“Of course.”

I imagined the scene unfold in sequence. Brooks looking from Adriana to Alegria, then back again. Then, Alegria–or is it Adriana? Who cares!–meets her sister’s eyes and the two begin to kiss, opening their mouths and letting their tongues play over each other. They don’t close their eyes like people in a kiss, they keep them open just enough so they can see him. This is all a show for him.

They pull him in and kiss him at once in a depraved trinity of tongues and lips. Then they push him back, on the chaise and one of them–who knows which one–goes south and the other straddles his face.

An agile tongue flicks a twin’s clit while another twin’s lips suck inches and inches of rock cock. The twin sitting on his face–let’s pretend she’s Alegria, ’cause that means happiness and she’s one happy girl where she is–she’s working those glorious South Beach-bronzed thighs over Brooks’s face up and down, up and down and Brooks’ tongue is going in and out of her pussy, then dancing around her labia and whipping up her clit. Alegria is moaning, “ay, papi, ay, ay, ay, ayyyyyyy.”

Meanwhile below, that other one, what’s her name again? Oh, right, Adriana, she’s got eleven inches of solid meat in her–not that I know how big Brooks’s dick is, but everyone knows rockstar dick begins at ten, even when it doesn’t. So she’s there, she’s got her throat filled with cock, her muscles contracting around it as it pulsates and she goes back and forth and back and forth on a righteous parade of spit that leaves whatever inches are exposed in motion glistening like morning dew.

Then Alegria suddenly paused and got on her knees, crawling across Brooks’s body before straddling him and brusquely pulling her sister off the cock by her hair. Adriana rose and positioned herself over Brooks’s monster saliva-dipped, glistening rock-hard dick and both she and Alegria watch it disappear inside her. Adriana is moaning, she can never get used to how thick it is inside her Kegel-tight little cunt, but Alegria doesn’t want to wait, she grabs her by the hips and slams her down on it, then pulls her up, then brings her down, again and again until her sister is riding that cock like she’s supposed to.

Brooks pulls Alegria to the side so he can watch and moves a hand over her leg and to her crotch to play with her clit but Alegria won’t have any of it. She rises, leaning forward so her sister can suck on her gigantic tits and offering Brooks a look at her perfect pussy and asshole. He sticks two fingers in her cunt and Alegria’s moans join her sister’s, then he wets his thumb in her juice and begins to massage her asshole as he fingers her.

It’s really hard to write this one handed, I have to say. And it bugs me that FireFox for some reason doesn’t recognize the word “clit” as standard. But I digress–

Alegria gets off Brooks and he sits up, pushing Adriana on her back so he can pound into her like her wants to. She throws her legs over his shoulders and her eyes begin to fill up with water and he just knows she’s close because to this freak, every orgasm is a tear-jerker. So Brooks gives it to her, meanwhile Alegria is behind him, her tatas smashed against his back and one of her hands all over his chest, she’s kissing his neck while she fingers herself.

Brooks is going crazy, when Adriana starts crying, he pulls out, turns around and throws Alegria in front of him on all fours and begins to pound the light out of her, bam-bam-bam, giving her little pussy the rock treatment, bam-bam-bam, so those melones are bouncing on her frame, bam-bam-bam, pesones hanging like big cerezas, almost black, bam-bam-bam.

Brooks takes her by the hair and hip and slams her on his dick over and over and over, “ay, si, asi asi asi asi, papi, dame mas, mmmm!” Adriana is watching now, enjoying seeing her sister get fucked hard from behind. She gets up real quick and runs out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with a dildo. She licks it and rubs it in her pussy, then gets on the chaise and begins to fuck her sister’s ass with it as Brooks fucks her cunt. Bam-bam-bam rockstar fuck, and Alegria is screaming and screaming because she likes multi-penetration, in her pussy and in her ass and if someone is free to be sucked off, even better. She cums hard and fast, her cunt contracting around Brooks’s dick, nice and tight.

Brooks pulls out and Adriana dives in to suck his dick again. Alegria turns around and kneels next to her sister. Adriana pulls the cock out of her mouth, kisses her sister and Alegria takes Brooks’s dick, deep-throating it as she likes to do. Then she pulls it out and Adriana takes it again, and they take turns like this, playing with each other’s tits and his balls as they pass the dick around.

Finally Brooks can’t handle it anymore–he’s about to blow, cover their faces in ropes and ropes of cum.

“Can never ever forget the visual of two perfect and nearly identical girls giving me head at the same time,” he said, looking at me. “Can you fathom? The one thing that really stands out–the one thing that stands out was me cumming and both of them taking turns milking me dry of every last drop and then making out in front of me.”

I see Adriana and Alegria, lined up nice like a porn, in front of a rock legend in all the glory of the 80s, big hair and everything, and he’s got his monster dick in his hand and they’re just waiting there with their mouths open. He cums in Adriana’s face and she takes the dick in her mouth, then pulls it out of her mouth and Alegria takes the cock quickly and sucks every last bit of jizz before turning to her sister and snowballing their loads.

“So then what happened?”

“Well, I moved on to the next town. I saw ‘Marie’ from time to time. Each of them and both of them. Crazy times. I think I lost myself for a while.”

“After a while could you tell them apart by technique?”

“Not at first but eventually. You don’t really think like that, you know? You think, ‘oh, she’s different today,’ you don’t initially think, ‘I bet it’s the twin sister you haven’t told me about!’ know what I mean?”