D S Deep Throat

...enjoying the summer air underneath the trees, looking up through the breaks in the leaves and branches, ever changing colors of green, red, purple, yellow...hearing a rumble... wondering, wondering,...a chain saw nearby, cutting into my forest? It's to the right of me. I need to get up and stop it. Need to get up and, need to get...

Up.

What?

Oh, it's you. Lying next to me, sound asleep. Asleep, like I was, only snoring into my ear.

Oh well. I had to take a leak anyway. I get out of bed and head to the john. The pressure ebbs, but I am awake. I wash my hands and head back to bed, thinking I might still rest. Now I see you are sprawl over it from left to right, still lying face up, your mouth open and snoring. Hmmm. Yes. As close to perfect as real life affords.

I return to the bathroom and grab a washcloth. I wash my stiff cock – a little soap, a little rinse – making it all the stiffer. My hand reaches to hang it up, then stops. Yet another thought crosses my mind. First I venture to the kitchen, and get a bowl of water, then carry it back to the bedroom with the rinsed washcloth. You are still sprawled over, leaning almost off the bed.

Slowly, carefully, I tie first one arm and then the other to the tethers we have ever ready at the feet of the bed frame. You become vaguely aware of your situation and groggily gain a measure on consciousness. You look up to see my cock looming over your face – firm, hard, in all its welcome glory. Slowly my presence registers along with the presence of my cock. Slower still, you become more aware of your vulnerability. Your legs begin to part, as they always do, when you get turned on, when you are so ready to submit. You stretch, then realize you can't reach your clit with your fingers. You can't reach for anything, really.

And you ache. You ache for my cock hovering above you. You ache for my touch. You ache to feed your growing lust. A low moan escapes your lips, the moan of need that I crave to hear. The moan that tells me you are mine to use as I wish.

I know your throat is dry, too dry for my purposes. The washcloth is brought to hover over to your lips. A few drops are squeezed out into your throat, letting your mouth become moist. I have plans, and you know what they are. More drops squeeze out, and you swallow. There will be plenty more to swallow soon enough.

Bending just a touch to set the cloth into the bowl, I return my cock to that teasing tormenting remove above your face, letting you see and appreciate its whole length. Stroking it, a drip of pre-cum lingers at the tip, then lowers beneath a thinning strand to your lips. The desperation of that first taste, that first addictive taste overcomes you.

"Please. Please let me lick you cock. Please. I need it. I need you cock in my mouth."

My cock brushes teasingly over your cheeks, the soft rose petal feel drawing more of your breath. Another strand of precum lays upon you lips, drawn from one side to the other. Your tongue darts out to touch my cock. With that, I lift. A few seconds later the wet washcloth snaps over your clit, sending a tingling sharp sensation into your body. Then another, sharper still.

"Greedy cum slut aren't you?"

"Yes!" you cry. "I need it. Please? Do what you will to me, but let me suck your cock."

Another stinging snap, and another, on your cunt. Then two snaps on the tip of each nipple.

"You woke me up from my lyric dream. You had better make me dream again. You had better make me lose myself, lose myself in my passionate lust."

Leaning forward, I thrust my cock hard and long into your mouth till I bump against your throat. I hold for a few second and then slowly withdraw. Your lips close, holding on as best they can. Your tongue swings wildly around, seeking to snare the shaft. I almost pull out – slow, taunting, tormenting. I hear your breath, your mewling ache that you never lose what you have not yet been given. I hold, lingering, lingering on your lips.

Another "Snap!" of the cloth on your cunt opens your legs wide. Your mouth opens sympathetically. I could thrust however I wish; anywhere that I wish, and I do wish and act to thrust again to your throat. My balls hit your nose. You try to breath, but you can't. I back off just a little, letting you fill you lungs again. I back off more, half out of your mouth. My hands decant some more water from the cloth down my cock, wetting your mouth yet more. I like it wet. I like my cock to slide smooth and deep. I love the suction of wet lips as I thrust into you.

Leaning back to my work, or rather play, I set a pace – strong, steady, filling your every greedy slutty need for cock - your need to devour, to seize whole, to engulf and feast. Yes, I command; but you obey only for you. You heed only your desperate need filled to overflowing. And so I press. As you take more, I thrust more. As you open I fill.

Again, the cloth heavy with moisture is in my hands. I turn your cunt into a metronome, keeping pace with the fucking of your mouth. A "Snap!" precedes a thrust, in full beating measure. You feel your own ache being fed. The tempo ratchets allegro. Fucking your mouth. Pulling, then fucking again, strong, hard, forceful. Whipping your cunt in counterpoint, bring the snap of the cloth enfilading left then right. Thrust. Fore strike. Thrust. Back strike. Thrust again. Hearing you moan and mewl.

Losing my breath through exertion even as you lose yours through my thrusts. Then lost in the lyric, the reverberation of the rising flow inside, ever higher and higher. My control disappears, to be overcome by yours. Your heels pressed to the bed, your cunt risen in the air, taking the snaps on the cloth and greedy for more. My straining meets yours. Straining. Straining Straining.

The cum floods past your lips, and your cunt presses the air for the next tormented touch, taking it, taking it, taking it, then falling back crashing to the bed. Crashing as the last crash of cum leaves my cock to bathe your throat and immerse your tongue.

My hand reaches down to sustain your head, to let you breath easy. My lips press against yours, kissing you. I release the tethers one by one and rub your wrists. Gathering you in my arms, with my last bit of energy, we swing onto the bed, you in my arms.

Soon, very soon, I see the breaks in the leaves and branches, ever changing colors of green, red, purple, yellow...

*

(dedicated to Sweet Barbara, who wrote the first note to me on my first submission)