This is the best way to start every day, and the best way to end...
This is the best way to start every day, and the best way to end it as well. Every man should commit to pleasuring his woman as best as he can, with whatever he's got that will get her off.
Every man should experience this. No plans of getting off, but...
Every man should experience this. No plans of getting off, but all the effort focused on pleasing the superior woman. You can jack off later, if she's nice enough to allow it.
I have nothing to add except… Unf! And someone hand me a...
I have nothing to add except… Unf! And someone hand me a towel, please. I'll be needing that in a moment.
Getting Your Face Fucked
There's a big difference between eating a pussy and getting your face fucked by a woman.
Eating pussy may seem submissive by nature, but it's not. The eater is, in some ways, in control of the eatee. I can choose to run my tongue teasingly over her labia, insert it into her vagina, or focus on the clit when I want her to cum. That's not exactly relinquishing control. Eating pussy like that generally has the woman on her back, legs open, and the person eating her pussy above her in some way, still in a dominant position.
Over the weekend, though, I had a different experience. My wife must have been feeling generous, since she allowed me to fuck her… for awhile. But as usual, my cock wasn't up to the task of satisfying her. It wasn't long before she took matters into her own hands. She pushed me off of her, and then told me to move the pillows off the bed and lay back down. I did so quickly.
Then, she turned around and straddled my face. Her large ass and hairy pussy covered me entirely. She positioned herself so that her hard clit was pushing into my mouth, and then began to push her hips back and forth so that she used my entire face as a fuck toy. Every so often, she'd slide upwards so that my tongue could access her asshole while she kept pushing her clit against my nose.
It didn't take long. She kept it up until I felt her thighs tighten and quiver, and she came, covering my whole face with her wetness. Then, after commanding me to get the pillows, she turned over and fell asleep. That's how men should be treated, ladies. I eventually got to sleep myself, after stroking my cock and cleaning the spray of cum I'd left on my own stomach. But I didn't wash my face; it was better for me to spend the night with the taste of her ass and pussy all over me… an excellent reminder of my role in the relationship, and life in general.
Good thing I'm hungry, because it looks like it's...
Good thing I'm hungry, because it looks like it's time to eat.
We Get Taken Advantage Of
A brief side note.
Submissive guys like me often — consciously or otherwise — allow themselves to get taken advantage of. Case in point: here we are on the late Friday afternoon before a three-day weekend. Most people in my company didn't even bother coming in today. But my boss, Janet, just stopped by my office.
"Hey Jeff! I hate to ask this, but we're going to need a new draft of the document you sent earlier today."
"No problem. I'll send it to you on Tuesday when we come back from the long weekend."
"That's the problem."
She sits down on the chair near my desk, and parts her legs slightly. I can see right up the business skirt she's wearing.
"The info has to go on the site on Tuesday morning, so we really need it today."
She opens her legs a bit further. I can actually see the crotch of her panties now.
"I really need an entire rewrite. And it needs to be about 800 more words."
"800 more? Um… that's probably going to take a few hours. Maybe longer."
She says nothing, but holds my gaze. She knows she's already won.
"Okay."
"Thanks Jeff! Hey, I'm taking off early, so have a great weekend!"
And gone. I have hours and hours more work to do… and a hard cock that I can't relieve. Guys like us may get walked over, but deep down we all know that's just what we want.
I would do just about anything to be that guy on bottom.
I would do just about anything to be that guy on bottom.
I'd jump right in if I walked into this scene. I'm...
I'd jump right in if I walked into this scene. I'm just not sure what position I'd take. So many possibilities!
This might be my absolute favorite sex position. The only thing...
This might be my absolute favorite sex position. The only thing that could possibly make it better is if she's just finished being fucked by a stud and now she's spreading her sloppy, messy pussy all over my face.
Happiness Is...
… scrolling down your Tumblr dashboard and finding a naked, spread-legged photo of your neighbor’s hot MILF wife.
I've done almost exactly this, with two girls who were...
I've done almost exactly this, with two girls who were friends of mine. It was actually their idea. It was difficult to get hard at first due to embarrassment, but once I started getting into it, the humiliation factor got me off hard.
A Dose of Reality
I once was having a conversation with a friend of mine, a bisexual woman who seemed to prefer women to men on a general basis. She was talking about having hooked up with a particular woman the night before, and it hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. I said something that I think most men assume.
“Well, at least women know how to lick pussy.”
She shook her head. “Not even! This bitch had no idea. I was saying to her, ‘Um… that’s my thigh. What are you doing now? Okay, that’s not even close.’ I finally gave up and just fucked her with a strap-on. Never again!”
I was laughing at that point, but apparently, just because you have a pussy or a cock doesn’t mean you know what to do with one. No matter what gender you are (and who you prefer being with sexually), I think what’s more important in pleasing your partner are three things:
1. Experience.
2. Listening to what they want, as long as they’ll tell you.
3. Being with someone who shares similar tastes with you and/or having an open mind to trying things that are new to you but that interest your partner.
The Link (Part 2)
I hardly got any work done that day. Every time I'd be getting into a project, the thought of that mysterious video showing an unidentified hand feeling up my teen daughter came to mind. I must have re-watched the video a dozen times, looking for anything… a shadow, an item of clothing, anything that would give me an indication of who this was. I also spent a good amount of time trying to trace the origin of the email, but it quickly became clear that it had been sent to me through an anonymous remailing server. I wasn't going to be able to find out anything very easily.
Late that day, my boss Bill stopped me in the hallway.
"Hey Jeff, how are we doing on the MacKenzie account?"
Oh, shit. That's what I was supposed to be doing that day, running numbers for MacKenzie so we could justify upgrading their systems. It was a big project, and it was due the next day. My mind had been so thoroughly ensnared by this disturbing video of my daughter that I completely blew it off, but I couldn't say that to Bill.
"Oh… yes, coming along just fine," I lied.
"You'll be presenting first at the meeting tomorrow, in conference room A," he said. "Make sure to copy me and the department heads on your spreadsheet before it gets started."
"You got it," I said with a fake smile, sounding much more confident than I was. It was already 5PM, and there was at least three hours of number crunching to do to produce what they needed. I realized it was going to be a late night, and called my wife to tell her. She reminded me that she had her class that night, and wouldn't be home either until about nine o'clock. I sighed and got to work.
As I finally drove home late that night, I thought about confronting Steph about the video I'd seen. But things were already on thin ice between my daughter and I; she was going through those teenage times when she seemed to feel that everything her parents did was out to get her. She obviously wasn't being sexually molested against her will. I decided that after this long day, the last thing I needed was a big scene, so when I got home I simply greeted her and my wife, then ate dinner and went to bed.
The next day, I got to the office at my usual time. I made sure to immediately get my report circulated to everyone per my boss's orders, and then settled into my office for a few moments of peace before the big presentation. I checked my email and did my usual routine, but I froze as the new messages came in. Like yesterday, there was a message from "Joe". Just "Joe". No subject line. And three words in the body… "Your daughter Stephanie". And a link.
My heart already pounding hard enough to make me feel faint, I shut my door, then clicked it. This time, the scene opened in the upstairs hallway of my house. Similar to the last video, I couldn't hear any voices… just the sound of feet as they walked along my hardwood floor leading toward the bedrooms. It seemed to be nighttime; lights were on inside the hall. The door to Stephanie's room was slightly ajar, and that hand — definitely the same one from the previous video — moved into the frame to open the door more fully.
Steph was stretched out on her bed, naked. Her eyes were closed, but her legs were spread open, and she had a vibrator pressed to her clit. The camera again moved closer to her crotch, and the hand reached toward her. This time, he sank a finger into her already-wet pussy, and again I heard her moan. Then, finally, I heard a voice, a male voice. Maddeningly, I couldn't tell who it was, since he was whispering.
"Yeah Stephie," he said. "Make yourself cum for me. Come on, you little slut."
At that, she began moaning more, and the guy was working his finger in and out of her pussy while she kept the vibrator glued to her clit.
"Hurry up you little fucking bitch," whispered the voice. "Your daddy will be home soon."
At that, she arched her back and let out a long moan. The cameraman pulled his hand away, and did a tight closeup. I could see her pussy streaming fluids, and her asshole pulsing as she came. At the very end, she let out a deep breath, and that was it. Video done.
It wasn't more than a half second later that I heard a knock on my door, which swung open before waiting for me to respond. It was Bill.
"The MacKenzie folks are here. Let's go."
I somehow managed to nod my acquiescence, but still had to wait another minute before heading down to the conference room. Despite the fear and frustration I was feeling, my cock had swelled while watching my daughter's pussy, I'm ashamed to say, and I had to calm myself before being in public. As I left, my assistant Janet told me that they were waiting for me, and gave me an odd look as I started down the hall.
TO BE CONTINUED
When she started at the company, Janet was my assistant. It...
When she started at the company, Janet was my assistant. It didn't take her long to see what kind of man I was. Within a year, she was promoted past me and became my boss. This is how I now spend every morning now when I arrive at the office.
The Link (Part 1)
Every morning, I follow a similar routine. I'm up at 5:30, showered and dressed by 6:00, and out the door to the office at 6:30. When I arrive a little after 7:00, like most businessmen, the first thing I do is check email. Most of it is crap… I get copied on everyone's little issues around here, so I spend most of the time hitting the delete key, and sending short responses when necessary. But one day, a particular email caught my eye.
It came in from an address that just said "Joe", and there were only three words written in the body of the mail, and a web link. I would have normally assumed it was spam and just deleted it, but the words were "Your daughter Stephanie". Well, I do have a daughter named Stephanie. She's a 16-year-old junior in high school. Curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked it.
A web page opened. The URL was unfamiliar, and it looked like a private site. There was nothing on the page — no text, no ads — except a video that was embedded, with a "play" button in the middle. A time readout on bottom indicated that the video was just over a minute long. I got up and closed my office door, then sat down and started the video.
I recognized the setting. It was my own backyard of my suburban house. The footage wasn't very sharp, and looked to have been captured via a camera phone. Whoever was recording the video panned across the yard, then up toward the pool. Stephanie was there, laying out on a chaise lounge chair in sunglasses and a white bikini. She looked up and waved to the camera. I could hear some background ambient audio, but no one was speaking. Then the view moved closer to her, and fumbled a bit as the unknown cameraman switched hands.
The next thing I saw shocked me to no end. As the view panned down her young body, Steph parted her thighs, and I saw a man's hand reach out, and then the hand slid inside of her bikini bottom. His fingers got busy through the sheer fabric, and she bucked her hips slightly to accommodate them. In the final two seconds of the video, I heard Steph release a long, shaky moan. Then cut to black. End of video.
Speaking of shaky, my own hands were trembling so badly that I could barely hit the right combination of keys to close the browser window. Whose hand was that? What were they doing at my house, with my teen daughter? And who was this “Joe” who had sent me this video?
I had to get up and walk around the block to calm down. My assistant, seeing my pale face as I returned to my office, asked if everything was okay. I took a breath and told her everything was fine, just a little family issue. She seemed to accept that, and went back to work. Once inside again, I couldn't help myself; I needed to watch the video again and see if I could get any clues to answer my burning questions.
The guy's hand was the only piece of evidence I had to go on. I paused the video at the moment he reached out. It was quite a lurid still frame, his hand poised just as it was ducking under my daughter’s bikini waistband. The one thing I noticed was that it didn't look like a teenage guy's hand. Too hairy, and the fingers were thick. Hands are a good indicator of age, and this hand definitely wasn't attached to a guy Steph's age. It looked more like the hand of a guy closer to my age.
TO BE CONTINUED
Mrs. Johnson
I was a freshman in high school, about 14 years old, and was on the basketball team. One day at practice, we were being trained on how to take a charge. That means standing near the basket, and allowing a guy to basically run you over while he tries to score. In the best case scenario, you fall backward and slide on your ass, and the guy picks up a foul. The worst case scenario is what happened to me: the dude's knee went straight into my groin and I took a hard shot to the balls. I went down hard. Couldn't breathe. Felt like puking. All that.
So, a couple of guys half-carried me to the school nurse's office down the hall. The nurse was named Mrs. Johnson, and I was familiar with her, since I'd already faked a few sicknesses to skip classes on a few occasions. She was a middle-aged woman, probably in her early 40s. Slightly overweight, graying strands of hair.
"What happened?" she asked, concerned as I was dragged in, moaning in pain.
"He got a knee to the nads," said one guy, and they both started snickering.
"That is not funny," she admonished them. "He is probably in serious pain. Bring him back here," and indicated the small exam room. I staggered up on the table and laid down in a semi-fetal position, knees up. The other guys left and Mrs. Johnson closed the door.
"You must be feeling awful," she said, and I nodded weakly. "I'm going to need you to lie on your back, but keep your knees up. Let's loosen these pants a bit," she added, and reached out to unbutton my Levis. I wasn't objecting. I was hardly able to move at that point.
Mrs. Johnson stepped away, then came back with something in her hand. I saw that it was an ice pack. She must have noted the concerned look in my eyes, because she quickly said, "This might not be fun either, but we need to make sure to minimize swelling. Lift your hips for me, honey."
I did, and she slid my jeans down past my knees. I was in a pair of boxers.
"Now, let's get this right on the point of injury," she said, and gently placed the ice pack over my underwear, in the general area of my balls. I felt the cold quickly, which usually would have been a shock, but actually felt okay on my damaged sack. Mrs. Johnson held it there with her hand for a moment or two, but had a puzzled frown.
"You know, we're not getting this right where it needs to go," she said. "Let's slide these jeans all the way off so you can open your legs a little better." She took my jeans off and laid them on a chair. She was right; now, when she held the ice pack to my groin, it was actually right on my balls. She made sure of it by holding my knees slightly apart.
"That's better. Here, let's turn down this light so you can relax. It's right in your eyes."
She reached over and flicked a switch so that the fluorescent light was dimmed in the little exam room. I watched as she continued to hold the ice pack, pressing gently but firmly with her left hand while she rubbed my stomach comfortingly with her right. After a few minutes of this, she stopped, and pulled the ice pack away.
"I need to make sure there isn't anything wrong besides a temporary injury," she said, while standing and strapping on a pair of rubber gloves. I started to get a little nervous and leaned up on the table.
"I'm sure it will be okay, I said. "I could just rest awhile and go to sixth period." She looked at me.
"But if it's not okay and I send you back to class with some kind of internal hemorrhage, and you're never able to have kids, it will be my fault, dear. You need to let me finish your examination and treatment."
That scared me. I nodded and laid back down. Mrs. Johnson turned to me and once again asked me to lift my hips. This time, she slid her fingers under the waistband of my boxers and took them all the way off. I was now naked from the waist down. She parted my knees again, and reached down to pull my cock upward to give my balls a full inspection. With her other hand, she gently cupped my balls.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I felt her hand on my cock give it a slight squeeze, then a release. The combination of the pain and then the cold had caused my cock to shrivel to infinitesimally small size, and I was embarrassed that even Mrs. Johnson would be seeing it like this. She gave it another squeeze or two, and then shook her head.
"Honey, I need to check one more thing. Just a precaution. Please scoot down the table a little more, and open your legs real wide."
She swiveled around in her chair and grabbed something. I saw a second later that she had a tube of lubricant, and was spreading it on her gloved fingers.
"What's that for?" I asked.
"When testicular injuries happen, it can affect the prostate gland. I need to make sure yours isn't swelling up. That means I have to put a finger inside you. It won't take long."
"Inside me?" I asked nervously, and she looked at me with a sweet smile.
"Don't worry," and patted me on the stomach again. I felt her softly start to move her fingers near my asshole, spreading the lubricant around slowly. "Okay, here we go. Open those legs wider. Try not to tense up," she said, and then looked at me in the eyes as she slid her finger into my ass.
"Oh honey, I feel you tensing up on me," she said. "Just relax," she said, and as she did, she moved her other hand down downward on my stomach until once again it was resting on my cock. I let out a breath, and felt her finger slide further into me.
"That's better," she said. "Much better. Thank you for cooperating so sweetly," and I felt her finger begin to curl inside of me. I'd never felt anything like that before, and gave off an involuntary moan when she hit one spot.
"Oh good, does that feel good to you? It's supposed to. Ah, and it's doing just what it's supposed to up here too."
My cock, as she referenced was starting to grow hard. I was so embarrassed. Wasn't it supposed to be gay if your cock got hard when something was in your ass? But Mrs. Johnson's finger kept moving back and forth in my ass, and there was nothing I could do to stop my cock from getting harder and harder. I looked away in humiliation. Meanwhile, Mrs. Johnson kept her other hand pressed down on my now fully-hard cock, holding it flat to my stomach and gently applying pressure.
I felt a familiar sensation building in me. I'd already been jacking off for a couple of years, and thought that I was going to cum. I started to say something to Mrs. Johnson, but then, something different happened. My cock, pressed upward on my own stomach under her firm hand, began to just leak cum out on its own. I didn't feel the familiar pumping sensations of an orgasm; this was different. Intense in its own way, but indescribably pleasurable. It was more like peeing, and it went on for a long time. Mrs. Johnson watched with a smile on her face as my cock drooled cum all over my stomach. When it finally ended, she slowly removed her finger from my ass, and got a cloth to clean the semen from my midsection. Then she handed me my clothes.
"Much better now, honey?" she asked, and I nodded as I pulled on my clothes and got back to my feet on wobbly legs She held me in place. "Good. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'm going to want you to come back three times a week so we can make sure everything is healing well. Is that okay with you?"
Again, I nodded. She looked at me closely.
"For now, make sure you don't touch yourself down there. You need more time to heal. I'll make sure you get taken care of just like we did today."
She stripped off the gloves, threw them away into a small bin, and opened the door. As I walked out, she said "See you on Monday morning at 9AM. And no touching yourself, alright?"
"Yes, Mrs. Johnson."
THE END
It gets me hot when a woman doesn't even bother getting...
It gets me hot when a woman doesn't even bother getting fully undressed. Just enough so she can be serviced by a man's tongue. Mmmm.
Unf!
Unf!
Her other guy is done. Now it's my turn. I can't...
Her other guy is done. Now it's my turn. I can't wait to clean her up.
I get into a trance when all of my senses are filled with pussy....
I get into a trance when all of my senses are filled with pussy. Laying there licking… licking… licking. Tasting and smelling her. Feeling her wetness all over my face. I never want to stop, and will do anything she tells me to at that moment.
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