“There’s a Japanese woodblock print calledDream of a Fisherman's Wifethat depicts the ecstasy of a woman being ravaged by two octopi whose tentacles intertwine and titillate her body in rope-like fashion. It is said that this piece of art is an iconic reference to rope erotica.”
“You are fantasizing about being fucked by a fish again,” I say in a playful way.
“A cephalopod, Sir, and I blame you for my marine fantasies. You are like a Triton, who are the sons of Poseidon, lusting gods of the sea.”
“Do they have fish tails and cocks as big as dolphins?” I ask and he nods. “Then I’m flattered.”
His own pretty member is stiff with arousal, nudging against the soft part of his belly and leaving behind a sticky trail of fluid. With his legs bound and spread, his sweet cheeks are mine for the taking. I draw one finger along the cleft of his buttocks, brushing lightly over his puckered hole. He shivers with pleasure and moans sweetly.
“You promised to tell me your last virtue,” he says.
“Simple. I want you to be open with me.” I stand at the place where we will soon be joined, the thin fabric of my pants the only barrier between us as I grab hold of his thighs and slide him against my ripe manhood.
“How much more open can I be, Sir?”
“Not just here,” I press two fingers to his opening, “but here too,” I tap his temple with my other hand. “And here.” I touch his left pectoral to signify his heart.
“You are asking a lot,” he says.
I grab a bottle of oil and coat all five of my fingers, then slowly ease one inside him. Giovanni arches, squeezing my digit with his rectal muscles, the ones he exercises every day to keep strong just for me. My rope ripples and glistens where it holds him. “Beautiful,” I say to him as he levers himself backward to fuck himself on one finger. “This is my poetry, Giovanni. Your beautiful body ensnared by my rope.”
“Sir,” he whimpers, his temple damp with exertion as I add a second finger.
“Yes, Giovanni?”
“More, please?”
“How much more?”
“Everything. Give me all you’ve got.”
“Soon, sweetheart.”
By the third finger, he is panting and restless, writhing, eel-like, in my bindings. I admire the glimpse of pink from his interior walls and the tight clutch of his channel. “So strong. And so sexy.”
“Please, Sir,” he begs. “I’m ready now.”
I strip off my pants and kick them aside. Giovanni lifts his head to watch me coat my cock in oil. He’s suspended at an angle, so that I may hold him in my arms while we make love. I grab my dick in one hand and my boy in the other, then slowly feed it to him while he grasps the rope above us with both hands.
“Gio,” I say as I gather him up in my arms. I kiss his temple and whisper his name into his golden waves of hair.
“Silvio,” he pants.
“Apriti,” I coax. “Apriti a me.”Open yourself to me.
In a feat of acrobatics, he slots into place, then leans back into his cradle and swivels his hips, seeking his pleasure by grinding on my dick. I allow this torment to continue while admiring the ebb and flow of his supple body, then I grip his thighs in both hands and pump my hips once.
“Fuck,” he says, eyes rolling back on a guttural groan.
“Play with your nipples,” I command, and he grabs onto both and twists savagely. I take over then, centering my gaze on his bouncing cock that slaps against his navel with every thrust. His balls are drawn up tight as figs and riper still.
“You’re so deep inside me. This feeling is…” he trails off on a whine. “Make me yours.” He continues to beg as the pounding of our flesh echoes all around. My cock throbs, ready to erupt as my vision narrows to the two flashing gold pieces in Giovanni’s nipples. His moans of ecstasy fill the room along with my own harsh grunts as our bodies collide.
“Toccami,” he says.Touch me.
“Come for me hands-free, Giovanni. Imagine Sir’s tentacles wrapped around you, holding you so tightly, wringing the pleasure from your beautiful body.”
His fingernails scrape along my shoulders, a sharp biting pain, as I thrust in deep and blow lightly across his nipples. Gio wails, then spurts, going boneless in my arms. I use him still, until my orgasm thunders though me like a herd of galloping beasts and I release inside him. Aftershocks of pleasure roll through me, tingling all the way to my toes. We are a sticky mess, but I continue to hold him while he sighs contentedly.
