Tethers
- 2 years ago
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- 0
Tethered free porn video
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kent is in a meeting. If you’d like to leave a message, I can put you through to her voice mail.”
She sounds young and sexy and I wonder if you’ve fucked her the way you’ve fucked me, and if you use her the way you use me. Does she desire you, and why the do I care so much.
“Ma’am?”
So the bitch thinks I’m old and confused and to be smiled at patiently because you’ve fucked her more recently than you’ve fucked me.
“Shall I connect you?”
Our last connection was in the ladies room of your building, and you pushed me down to my knees on the filthy tile. I let you force my face under your Dolce & Gabbana A-line skirt and you made me eat your cunt. With one clenched fist of my blonde hair while the other hand mauled my breasts, tearing a button from the silk blouse I’d worn because my thick nipples stretch the silk the way my desire for you stretches my morals. I allow you to use my face and tongue to pleasure your bare cunt and asshole. You fuck my face and use me until your hot cum drips from my face onto the restroom tiles.
“I’m putting you through to his voice mail now.”
She is glad to be rid of me and my silence that could be helplessness or aggression but is unlikely to be anything she wants to deal with.
“This is Allison Kent. I can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message.”
“Please” sounds as alien on your tongue as “thank you” or “I love you.” Please is a verb describing what I should do for you. Please is what you make me say when I'm naked, needy and on my knees with my hands spreading my asshole open in front of your husband, begging for his cock and your attention. The tension of the sinful moment your husband's cock stretches my asshole.
“It’s me, Tess."
I can hear the need in my voice like a burn on my face transfiguring me into something damaged but compelling.
"I want..."
You.
"I wanted..."
Everything, anything you want and can do to me.
"To let you know that. .."
I only feel when you touch me; am only visible when you look at me, only feel alive when you use me.
"I'm alone for the next few days..."
And you and your husband could fuck me like the first time when you made me lie naked on my marriage bed wearing only my wedding ring and you had me finger fuck myself to a frenzy for your amusement, while your husband took pictures with his phone. You tied me, sat on my face and pressed your sloppy cunt into my mouth as your husband fucked me harder and better than my husband ever has, you did this to me not because you wanted me but because you knew I would remember it. Remember you and your husband every time my husband enters me in his gentle loving way on that bed in which I conceived his c***dren and betrayed his trust.
"So if you'd like to come over for a meal..."
I'll serve it wearing the tiny lace maid's outfit you bought me because you knew my tits would fall out of it and I would look like a slut but I would wear it anyway because you told me to, and I'll kneel under the table while you eat and I'll gently lick your cunt, letting the drool run down my chin and keeping one thumb up my ass and one in my cunt as you've taught me to do. I suspect you teach all of us to do, all of your sluts.
"Call me..."
Names, filthy names. Names that make me writhe with shame and excitement, names I want to live up to. Names that should be tattooed on my flesh as a warning to the world. Names that have stripped me of who I was and left me with who I need to be.
"On my mobile."
The one you made me get. The one my husband doesn't know I have. The one you pushed, condom-covered, into my cunt when you had me tied and helpless, although I am always with you even when I am not tied. The one I'm using now to offer myself to you or your husband, whatever pleases you. You are the only route I have to myself anymore.
I end the call, but that doesn't break the connection. I am tethered to you by a need that is stronger than I am.
Sitting, waiting for your call, waiting for you to say if, how and when you will use me, I start to cry. It is not the betrayal or the humiliation or the crippling tug of my need that brings tears. It is the knowledge, sure, certain and cruel, that one day you will cut my tether to you and I will be lost.
She sounds young and sexy and I wonder if you’ve fucked her the way you’ve fucked me, and if you use her the way you use me. Does she desire you, and why the do I care so much.
“Ma’am?”
So the bitch thinks I’m old and confused and to be smiled at patiently because you’ve fucked her more recently than you’ve fucked me.
“Shall I connect you?”
Our last connection was in the ladies room of your building, and you pushed me down to my knees on the filthy tile. I let you force my face under your Dolce & Gabbana A-line skirt and you made me eat your cunt. With one clenched fist of my blonde hair while the other hand mauled my breasts, tearing a button from the silk blouse I’d worn because my thick nipples stretch the silk the way my desire for you stretches my morals. I allow you to use my face and tongue to pleasure your bare cunt and asshole. You fuck my face and use me until your hot cum drips from my face onto the restroom tiles.
“I’m putting you through to his voice mail now.”
She is glad to be rid of me and my silence that could be helplessness or aggression but is unlikely to be anything she wants to deal with.
“This is Allison Kent. I can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message.”
“Please” sounds as alien on your tongue as “thank you” or “I love you.” Please is a verb describing what I should do for you. Please is what you make me say when I'm naked, needy and on my knees with my hands spreading my asshole open in front of your husband, begging for his cock and your attention. The tension of the sinful moment your husband's cock stretches my asshole.
“It’s me, Tess."
I can hear the need in my voice like a burn on my face transfiguring me into something damaged but compelling.
"I want..."
You.
"I wanted..."
Everything, anything you want and can do to me.
"To let you know that. .."
I only feel when you touch me; am only visible when you look at me, only feel alive when you use me.
"I'm alone for the next few days..."
And you and your husband could fuck me like the first time when you made me lie naked on my marriage bed wearing only my wedding ring and you had me finger fuck myself to a frenzy for your amusement, while your husband took pictures with his phone. You tied me, sat on my face and pressed your sloppy cunt into my mouth as your husband fucked me harder and better than my husband ever has, you did this to me not because you wanted me but because you knew I would remember it. Remember you and your husband every time my husband enters me in his gentle loving way on that bed in which I conceived his c***dren and betrayed his trust.
"So if you'd like to come over for a meal..."
I'll serve it wearing the tiny lace maid's outfit you bought me because you knew my tits would fall out of it and I would look like a slut but I would wear it anyway because you told me to, and I'll kneel under the table while you eat and I'll gently lick your cunt, letting the drool run down my chin and keeping one thumb up my ass and one in my cunt as you've taught me to do. I suspect you teach all of us to do, all of your sluts.
"Call me..."
Names, filthy names. Names that make me writhe with shame and excitement, names I want to live up to. Names that should be tattooed on my flesh as a warning to the world. Names that have stripped me of who I was and left me with who I need to be.
"On my mobile."
The one you made me get. The one my husband doesn't know I have. The one you pushed, condom-covered, into my cunt when you had me tied and helpless, although I am always with you even when I am not tied. The one I'm using now to offer myself to you or your husband, whatever pleases you. You are the only route I have to myself anymore.
I end the call, but that doesn't break the connection. I am tethered to you by a need that is stronger than I am.
Sitting, waiting for your call, waiting for you to say if, how and when you will use me, I start to cry. It is not the betrayal or the humiliation or the crippling tug of my need that brings tears. It is the knowledge, sure, certain and cruel, that one day you will cut my tether to you and I will be lost.
Vera
- 15.04.2022
- 24
- 0
