“Mm,” he rumbles, moving closer, his hips pushing my thighs apart. “My pretty boy knows I’m looking out for him.”
Over the last year, we’ve been playing with free-use, meaning we’re allowed access to each other’s bodies whenever we want. That’s how it’s always been, but doing it intentionally adds a little heat to the proceedings.
Either of us can safeword out, of course, but I love it when he decides it’s time to take me. There are rules, given all the dirt and chemicals in the warehouse, but there are also ways around such things.
We kiss for a while, rubbing up against each other, and he grabs the table remote. Pressing a button, he lowers the work surface until my mouth is right about level with his crotch.
I look up, lifting my brow. He’s got the clean hands, so he takes himself out, painting my lips with his precum before pushing inside.
Overwhelming schedules, things being out of place, and young volunteers all take a back seat to the desire to pleasure him, to make him come, to drink him down.
The sounds I pull from him make my cock swell in its pretty pink cage. He gets close, his muscles starting to strain when he pulls out.
A string of spit hangs from my abused and swollen lips. “Sir?”
He steps back, shaking his head as he tucks himself in. “Thought I could do a quickie, but I’m tired of quickies. We’re taking this to the bedroom,” he says, pulling me up from the table.
Grabbing my hand, he practically drags me across the yard as he gives me the rundown. “We’ll start with some nippleOs, then I might need to bring out the hot water bottle. Fuck,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “Do we have the balls?”
I raise a brow at him.
He holds up his hands. “Of course we have the balls. Silk or handcuffs?”
“Handcuffs, Sir.”
He pulls me into the house, purring in my ear, “Good boy. I’ll make sure to lock you up nice and tight.”
I do love it when he gets insistent.
“Thank you, Sir.”
* * *
Junior
For our second anniversary, Tanner handed me a gift-wrapped can of shortening, along with a melon baller. I was, to say the least, confused. That’s when he whispered what he wanted me to do with said shortening and…fuck. I think I made him come eight times that night.
We might break that record yet.
I’ve learned to use an ointment on his nipples to prevent chafing. That, plus the little suckers, gets me his first orgasm. He curses me when I make him douche, but at least I’m kind enough to use warm water to clean him out, unlike some Doms I know.
Once he returns from cleaning out and showering, I rim him, edging him until he’s begging for his secondO.
“Please, Daddy. Let me come.”
Fuck. He’s been slipping and saying Daddy more and more and…I don’t hate it.
He’s so debauched looking after that I have to fuck him raw, making sure he gets his third before I stuff his dripping hole with two perfectly frozen balls of, yes, shortening. The way he shivers and moans makes me ache with need.
We take a few minutes to give our bodies a rest while I have him sip some cool water and eat a handful of almonds.
“We still good, baby?” I ask, rubbing his belly.
He squirms, biting his juicy bottom lip as he runs his fingers through my chest hair. “Please, Sir.”
“Get into position.”
He’s quick to bend over for me in doggie style, placing his hands right where they need to go on the headboard.
