Choice
- 2 years ago
- 35
- 0
No Choice free porn video
Then one night, I just can't stand it anymore. And I tell you that. I say, "{HIS_NAME}, I have to have you. I can't wait anymore; I'm going crazy. Please come and see me. Please, baby?"
So you come. According to Mapquest, the 35 mile trip takes an hour and a half, at legal speed limits. But it's quite late, past the witching hour, and with no traffic, you make it in 53 minutes, 'cause bats out of hell go pretty damn fast.
You find my apartment without too much trouble, noting the rainbow spinner hanging in front of the door. You knock, and the door opens. From the way I sounded on the phone, you are half expecting me to be naked, but I'm not. Voluptuous breasts pushing through black lace barely have time to register on your brain before my arms are wrapped around your neck and the full length of my body is pressed tightly against yours. Backing me against a wall, you kiss me, hard. Lip-bruisingly hard. Too hard for a first kiss, but neither of us can help it. Your tongue explores my mouth, as though searching for something, maybe the answer to why we are both so crazed with lust. I suck on it, bite it, and finally we separate, to look, for the first time ever, directly into each other's eyes, and are relieved to see someone we know looking back. There is no sense of strangeness or unfamiliarity. You smile at me, and kiss me again, softly this time, tenderly. It's an odd progression, and yet somehow, it fits; it works.
You look around and begin to take everything in. The lights are off, but the room is lit by candles, lots of them. I've gathered together every candle I have, and lit them all at the same time. The air is filled with their warmth and with the smell of incense. You can't identify it, but it's earthy; it makes you think of green things growing and of warm spring rain. Van Morrison is playing on the stereo, singing about magic and romance and dancing beneath an October moon.
With my hands on your shoulders, I reach up to kiss you, and before you can embrace me, I slide my hands down your arms and grasp your wrists, and gently, but firmly, bring them around to your back. Before you have any idea what is happening, you hear a sound, a click you can identify immediately. You have been cuffed. You ask me what's going on, and in response, in one swift motion, I unbuckle your belt, unzip the fly, and lower your trousers to your ankles. I push you, lightly, but you're quite taken aback, and it doesn't take much to make you stumble. You fall back onto my couch, and look up at me, surprised, but not dismayed. I kneel on the floor to remove your shoes and slide your pants over your feet. The subservience of the position is in sharp contrast to the reality of your situation.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" I offer. "I have a really good '97 Zinfandel."
"I would love one, but how am I supposed to drink a glass of wine without hands?"
"Well, I guess I will just have to help you, won't I? It would be dreadful of me to provide you with refreshment and then not allow you to partake, wouldn't it?" I pour two glasses of wine and set them down on the coffee table. The glasses are large and heavy. They're not quite identical, and appear to be hand-carved. The glass looks frosty where it's been etched. I sit down on your lap, facing you, like a cat who would sooner offer to pay the rent than wonder whether or not she was welcome in your lap. My legs are folded under me, and my thighs are straddling your own. I raise one of the glasses to your mouth and let you drink. Then I light a cherry cigarette, and share it with you, holding the filter to your lips and waiting while you inhale.
I lean in close to your ear, my lips touching your lobe. "I'm so glad you decided to drive out here this late at night," I whisper. "It seems like I've been waiting for you for so long. I just couldn't take it any more. All that wanting and longing and frustration." I trace the ridges of your ear with my tongue, and you moan, very softly. I unbutton your shirt. I can't take it off because your hands are cuffed, but I can push it back, revealing broad shoulders, and a smooth, sculpted chest. I lower my head and take one of your nipples into my mouth, while my hands begin to discover all the places on your body that respond, most exquisitely, to my touch. Alternately, you gasp and then moan, while your back arches and then relaxes. Beneath me, I can feel your cock hardening, stiffening, pushing against soft folds of warm, moist flesh.
You've been here but moments, yet I am so ready for you. I've been getting ready for hours. Days, maybe. Weeks? With my hands on your shoulders, I rise up on my knees. There is an opening in the black lace that lies flush with my own, and I position the head of your cock so that it's just barely touching me. A shiver runs through my body and passes into yours. Slowly, excruciatingly, devastatingly slowly, I begin to lower myself onto you. The head of your cock is inside me. Clenching my muscles, I grasp the ridge, and gently pull, then release, and rise back off of you. Contact has not been broken; the tip of your penis is still nestled in the wet folds of my pussy, but you are no longer within me. A deep, feral moan rises up out of your belly, and your head falls back on the cushions of the couch. Again and again, I lower myself onto your shaft, this time, taking in another inch, then two, before pulling back.
You raise your head, and gaze into my eyes. From the look on your face, I can't tell if you are in agony or ecstasy, and decide that it must be both.
"How long will it take if I do it one inch at a time?"
"Oh, god, {HER_NAME}, please, please don't do this to me. I can't stand this."
"What would you do to me if you didn't have handcuffs on?" I'm laughing at you; mocking you.
"I would grab you and throw you down on this couch and fuck you until you cry."
And that is when I come crashing down into your lap. Your cock parts my secret flesh, suddenly and violently, as it plunges into me, all the way to the hilt. I throw my arms around your neck and lay my head on your shoulder as a raw, wild growl rises out of my throat. For the first time, I wish you weren't wearing handcuffs. I would love to feel your arms around me, hard and strong, pressing against my back. But the cuffs don't keep you from moving your hips, so you rock me back and forth, your pelvic bone grinding against my clit, and nibble on my neck as I begin to whimper.
When you come, you rise up from the couch with a ferocious thrust forward, nearly knocking me off your lap, but I manage to hang on as my own orgasm rips through my body. You settle back down on the couch with me in your lap. You can feel my heart beating against your chest, and my breath is rapid and heavy. As it begins to slow, you say, "{HER_NAME}, please take these handcuffs off. I want to hold you. I want to wrap my arms around you and caress your back and your beautiful heart-shaped ass."
"No. I'm not done with you yet." And I rise up off of you, kiss you on the lips, and disappear into the other room. You assume I am going to clean up, but you are wrong. I return shortly with an ice-cold glass of water and a very warm, wet cloth. I raise the glass to your lips, and you drink greedily. Then I take the cloth and gently massage your cock and balls, wiping away all traces of sweat and cum and pussy juice. You sigh as the soft, warm cloth passes over the head of your penis. I lean over and plant a wet kiss on the very tip, my tongue darting into the opening.
"Now lay down. On your back."
"{HER_NAME} . . . " you begin to object.
"Do as you're told, or I'll leave you in those cuffs all night."
With your head resting on a pillow, and your hands nestled in the small of your back, I position myself over your face so that my very juicy cunt is six inches above your mouth. For the first time, you notice that my freshly-fucked pussy lips are shaved clean. There are soft tufts of hair on my mound, above my clit, but my labia are slick as a whistle. Like a baby's butt. You had thought that things felt awfully smooth down there, but you weren't expecting THIS. The lips are swollen, puffy, and glistening with your own cum.
"Now eat me."
"But {HER_NAME}, I just came in you."
"Yes, and you are almost a vegetarian, so your cum is delicious. I just tasted it. Now it's your turn." And lowering my self onto your mouth, I demand again, "eat me."
And so you do, because really, you have no choice. My thighs are gripping the sides of your head. You hear nothing but the rush of blood in your own ears. Behind you, your hands have become numb. You see nothing but my eyes gazing down at you, hungry, lustful. The only senses you are fully aware of are taste and smell; and right now, that is all me. At this moment, I am your entire world.
But you are mine too. You suck on my swollen pussy, lapping up the juices that are a combination of you and me. It tastes briny and peaty; almost earth and almost sea. It reminds you of nothing. It reminds you of scotch. I hold your eyes with my own. I can see into your soul. I know what you want. I know what you need. My clit is engorged, like a ripe berry ready to burst, and you stroke it with your tongue, caressing it, encircling it, and when you slide it between your teeth I scream with pleasure and grind myself deeper onto your face. You fuck me with your tongue, sliding it in and out, in and out, until my whole body convulses, and I cry out, collapsing onto your chest, where I remain for many minutes.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I slide my hands under your back and release you from bondage. "Now you may hold me," I say, and curl my head into your neck. "Now you may do anything you like."
Ofelia
- 24.01.2022
- 20
- 0
