Powerball
- 3 years ago
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Power free porn video
As he entered the flat she turned and pounced on him. Gripping him by the throat she drove him backwards against the door forcing it closed with a clear and definitive 'snick'. His heart was hammering as her fingers dug into his jugular and carotid. Physically she was no match for him, but this wasn't about the physicality of either of them. With her petite 5' frame pressed hard against she eased the force from his throat. He snatched a grateful breath then she drove her hand forwards again and clattered his head off the door. With her other hand she reached beneath his open jacket and traced her fingers across his finely tailored shirt. The twitch his body gave in response to his nipples being tweaked brought a brief smile to her face. The hand now slithered down over his body and rested all too briefly on his crotch. Her nimble fingers grasped his zip and then insinuated their way in through his fly. They moved over his hardening cock to her ultimate quarry - his unprotected balls. Pulling herself up so her lips were close to his ear she whispered "You're mine." With that she released him and stalked down the corridor leaving him to collapse gasping for breath on the floor.
Picking himself up from the floor he stripped his clothes off and having folded them into a small, tidy pile on the floor he made his way down the corridor on wobbly legs. He entered the living room to find her sitting facing the doorway sipping a cocktail and watching him with cool appraisal. The hopeful look on his face faded in the stony silence that followed his entry. She gestured him over to stand beside her. The glass was carefully placed on the table and she, with careful precision, used her impeccably manicured fingers to flick his fully erect cock.
"I need fucked tonight..."
The words were music to his ears; tonight wouldn't be too bad after all. However, she continued
"... but this cock just won't do."
Still seated her cool hands cupped his balls then squeezed and tugged sharply with such force that he dropped to his knees gasping with the shock. Paying no attention to his distress she arose from the chair in a graceful and unhurried motion.
As she made her way across the room she could feel his stare on her pert arse. The clothes she was wearing were tailored for her every curve. They wouldn't have looked out of place in the boardrooms of the FTSE companies. Over the years countless men have coveted her, but only her husband could ever satisfy her. This gasping wretch would be a suitable diversion. At that thought she could feel herself moisten. Knowing his eyes were devouring every inch of her she slowly bent over and lifted up a pair of flesh coloured briefs up. But, more worryingly she also had something in her other hand out of his sight. She flung the briefs at his head.
"Put that pitiful excuse of a cock away."
He pulled them on and returned to his position on his knees Barely a trace of his masculinity showed: he now looked sexless.
"I want one that will satisfy me, what you had would never do the job."
With that she brought the concealed object into his view. It was a dildo of enormous proportions prompting him to quail. Seeing his apprehension she squatted down beside him, licked his ear and then, using her husky voice, she described how the mould of her husband's cock had been made. How she had kept him erect all the time the mould was setting. How this dildo was a faithful reproduction of his manhood, right down to the veins. He could feel her breath on his moistened ear, feel it on the nape of his neck as she moved behind him. She cinched shut a leather restraint around his neck and then quickly cuffed his wrists behind him and secured them to the collar with a long strap.
Rising to her full height, accentuated by her high heels, she clasped the base of the dildo to her crotch and then smacked him across the face with it several times. Grabbing him by the hair she forced the gargantuan phallus between his lips and into his mouth. He squirmed and writhed as the psuedo-cock filled his mouth and caused him to gag. After an eternity of this she released him and let him drop to the floor gasping for breath once again.
She contemplated the prostrate form at her feet for a moment then reached down and grabbed his collar, dragging him to his knees and along the corridor like a recalcitrant dog. At the threshold of the bedroom she released her grip and strode forward to pick up a harness from the bedside table. The monsterous dildo was slipped into the harness, lubricated by his own saliva. She returned to him and fitted the harness around his waist and fixed the crotch loops swiftly, with a practiced ease. She stepped back and admired her handiwork.
"Now you look like a real man."
He looked down and wondered how her husband had coped with such a monster in his trousers. How had he coped with an erection whilst in a public place? Surely everybody would have noticed?
She hitched up her black skirt revealing her suspenders and unveiling her finely groomed pubic hair. Demanding that he worship her body, she reclined on the bed. He set to using the only tool he had available: his mouth. His lips caressed the backs of her knees, his warm breath tickled the tops of her thighs and, eventually, his tongue reached the lips of her pussy. It was already moist with a warm feminine odour. With his hands still bound behind his back he settled down to the not inconsiderable task of satisfying her. His tongue teased, probed, lapped and penetrated her. Again her hand gripped his hair and forced his face into her pussy. She ground her clitoris against his nose then slowly worked his nose into her pussy. Eventually she eased the pressure off his head and allowed him a few breaths before she forced him lower to access her arsehole. His tongue started rimming her to her obvious enjoyment.
Suddenly, with a twist and flex more reminiscent of a wrestling move she wrapped her legs around him and flicked him on his back on the floor. Her hot pussy was once again pressing hard against his mouth as she writhed on top of him. As her moans grew more intense she ground against his face, oblivious to his struggling breath. As his sight started to close in his tongue stopped its vital work. After a second's pause she leapt off him - furious that she'd been denied her climax once again by a frail man. A couple of sharp slaps to his face and a tweak of his nipples brought him back to full consciousness.
"HA! You'll just have to fuck me instead." Maintaining eye contact all the time she straddled him, hitched up her skirt again and slowly lowered herself onto the strap-on.
How could such a small woman accommodate such a size? He didn't know how she did it, but the whole thing was inside her, she rested her hands on his bare chest and began to rock back and forth. He picked up her rhythm and started to thrust his hips; this gained the briefest of acknowledgements from her eyes - the barest twitch (had he imagined it) but then they went on in this bizarre mockery of sex.
His own cock was hard and trapped by the briefs against his thigh being chaffed by the strap-on's harness. The harder and faster he thrust the sorer and more painful the chaffing; but she demanded it of him, he'd already disappointed her once this evening he couldn’t disappoint her again. His arms were trapped underneath him, he was in pain and discomfort at every thrust, but he kept going. The strapon harness was now digging into his own cock and it felt like it was stripping the skin off one thrust at a time. She increased the tempo and he struggled to match her. The sight of her on top of him was too much and his body betrayed him - he ejaculated within the flesh coloured briefs. He could feel the warm spunk trickle down the leg initially providing some much needed lubrication, then it started to get sticky and make things worse. She knew from his face what had happened and seemed to increase the force of her thrusts. There was a cruel set to her lips.
As he whimpered in pain her breaths started to come shorter and quicker, he thrust harder even though his body was now screaming at him to stop. His cock, in post-orgasmic sensitivity, was pleading for him to stop, his shoulders and arms were screaming, the skin on his crotch was on fire, he was struggling to breath with her weight pressing down on his chest. But he kept going. He could see the tension building in her, he could feel it in her hands as she dug her nails deep into his chest like claws. With a single sharp scream she came.
There was no collapse into a loving embrace. No post-coital stroking and cuddling. After taking a moment or two for her breath to slow down she rose easily from him and smoothed her skirt down. Using her toes in a non-too-gentle manner she kicked him until he rolled on his side. She reached down, unclipped one of the wrist restraints and left the room.
He heard her walk down the corridor and close the living room door. He lay there, on the floor, ashamed at himself but utterly infatuated with her. How could he allow her to treat him so badly and keep coming back? He slowly undid the other restraints and the collar before gently peeling the briefs off. The stuck horribly and the chaffing was just as bad as he thought.
With stiff and sore movements he dressed in the corridor then vowing never to come back (but knowing it was an empty promise) he let himself out the flat, the door closing with a snick behind him.
[Written in tribute for my three favourite mistresses: Mistress Iona, Miss Sophie Thomas and Goddess Alexandra Snow]
Picking himself up from the floor he stripped his clothes off and having folded them into a small, tidy pile on the floor he made his way down the corridor on wobbly legs. He entered the living room to find her sitting facing the doorway sipping a cocktail and watching him with cool appraisal. The hopeful look on his face faded in the stony silence that followed his entry. She gestured him over to stand beside her. The glass was carefully placed on the table and she, with careful precision, used her impeccably manicured fingers to flick his fully erect cock.
"I need fucked tonight..."
The words were music to his ears; tonight wouldn't be too bad after all. However, she continued
"... but this cock just won't do."
Still seated her cool hands cupped his balls then squeezed and tugged sharply with such force that he dropped to his knees gasping with the shock. Paying no attention to his distress she arose from the chair in a graceful and unhurried motion.
As she made her way across the room she could feel his stare on her pert arse. The clothes she was wearing were tailored for her every curve. They wouldn't have looked out of place in the boardrooms of the FTSE companies. Over the years countless men have coveted her, but only her husband could ever satisfy her. This gasping wretch would be a suitable diversion. At that thought she could feel herself moisten. Knowing his eyes were devouring every inch of her she slowly bent over and lifted up a pair of flesh coloured briefs up. But, more worryingly she also had something in her other hand out of his sight. She flung the briefs at his head.
"Put that pitiful excuse of a cock away."
He pulled them on and returned to his position on his knees Barely a trace of his masculinity showed: he now looked sexless.
"I want one that will satisfy me, what you had would never do the job."
With that she brought the concealed object into his view. It was a dildo of enormous proportions prompting him to quail. Seeing his apprehension she squatted down beside him, licked his ear and then, using her husky voice, she described how the mould of her husband's cock had been made. How she had kept him erect all the time the mould was setting. How this dildo was a faithful reproduction of his manhood, right down to the veins. He could feel her breath on his moistened ear, feel it on the nape of his neck as she moved behind him. She cinched shut a leather restraint around his neck and then quickly cuffed his wrists behind him and secured them to the collar with a long strap.
Rising to her full height, accentuated by her high heels, she clasped the base of the dildo to her crotch and then smacked him across the face with it several times. Grabbing him by the hair she forced the gargantuan phallus between his lips and into his mouth. He squirmed and writhed as the psuedo-cock filled his mouth and caused him to gag. After an eternity of this she released him and let him drop to the floor gasping for breath once again.
She contemplated the prostrate form at her feet for a moment then reached down and grabbed his collar, dragging him to his knees and along the corridor like a recalcitrant dog. At the threshold of the bedroom she released her grip and strode forward to pick up a harness from the bedside table. The monsterous dildo was slipped into the harness, lubricated by his own saliva. She returned to him and fitted the harness around his waist and fixed the crotch loops swiftly, with a practiced ease. She stepped back and admired her handiwork.
"Now you look like a real man."
He looked down and wondered how her husband had coped with such a monster in his trousers. How had he coped with an erection whilst in a public place? Surely everybody would have noticed?
She hitched up her black skirt revealing her suspenders and unveiling her finely groomed pubic hair. Demanding that he worship her body, she reclined on the bed. He set to using the only tool he had available: his mouth. His lips caressed the backs of her knees, his warm breath tickled the tops of her thighs and, eventually, his tongue reached the lips of her pussy. It was already moist with a warm feminine odour. With his hands still bound behind his back he settled down to the not inconsiderable task of satisfying her. His tongue teased, probed, lapped and penetrated her. Again her hand gripped his hair and forced his face into her pussy. She ground her clitoris against his nose then slowly worked his nose into her pussy. Eventually she eased the pressure off his head and allowed him a few breaths before she forced him lower to access her arsehole. His tongue started rimming her to her obvious enjoyment.
Suddenly, with a twist and flex more reminiscent of a wrestling move she wrapped her legs around him and flicked him on his back on the floor. Her hot pussy was once again pressing hard against his mouth as she writhed on top of him. As her moans grew more intense she ground against his face, oblivious to his struggling breath. As his sight started to close in his tongue stopped its vital work. After a second's pause she leapt off him - furious that she'd been denied her climax once again by a frail man. A couple of sharp slaps to his face and a tweak of his nipples brought him back to full consciousness.
"HA! You'll just have to fuck me instead." Maintaining eye contact all the time she straddled him, hitched up her skirt again and slowly lowered herself onto the strap-on.
How could such a small woman accommodate such a size? He didn't know how she did it, but the whole thing was inside her, she rested her hands on his bare chest and began to rock back and forth. He picked up her rhythm and started to thrust his hips; this gained the briefest of acknowledgements from her eyes - the barest twitch (had he imagined it) but then they went on in this bizarre mockery of sex.
His own cock was hard and trapped by the briefs against his thigh being chaffed by the strap-on's harness. The harder and faster he thrust the sorer and more painful the chaffing; but she demanded it of him, he'd already disappointed her once this evening he couldn’t disappoint her again. His arms were trapped underneath him, he was in pain and discomfort at every thrust, but he kept going. The strapon harness was now digging into his own cock and it felt like it was stripping the skin off one thrust at a time. She increased the tempo and he struggled to match her. The sight of her on top of him was too much and his body betrayed him - he ejaculated within the flesh coloured briefs. He could feel the warm spunk trickle down the leg initially providing some much needed lubrication, then it started to get sticky and make things worse. She knew from his face what had happened and seemed to increase the force of her thrusts. There was a cruel set to her lips.
As he whimpered in pain her breaths started to come shorter and quicker, he thrust harder even though his body was now screaming at him to stop. His cock, in post-orgasmic sensitivity, was pleading for him to stop, his shoulders and arms were screaming, the skin on his crotch was on fire, he was struggling to breath with her weight pressing down on his chest. But he kept going. He could see the tension building in her, he could feel it in her hands as she dug her nails deep into his chest like claws. With a single sharp scream she came.
There was no collapse into a loving embrace. No post-coital stroking and cuddling. After taking a moment or two for her breath to slow down she rose easily from him and smoothed her skirt down. Using her toes in a non-too-gentle manner she kicked him until he rolled on his side. She reached down, unclipped one of the wrist restraints and left the room.
He heard her walk down the corridor and close the living room door. He lay there, on the floor, ashamed at himself but utterly infatuated with her. How could he allow her to treat him so badly and keep coming back? He slowly undid the other restraints and the collar before gently peeling the briefs off. The stuck horribly and the chaffing was just as bad as he thought.
With stiff and sore movements he dressed in the corridor then vowing never to come back (but knowing it was an empty promise) he let himself out the flat, the door closing with a snick behind him.
[Written in tribute for my three favourite mistresses: Mistress Iona, Miss Sophie Thomas and Goddess Alexandra Snow]
Kaidence
- 05.06.2022
- 20
- 0
