Fag Boys Suck Ch 02

How did it all start? A year ago, we were still unmarried. I was 27, she was three years younger. We had big plans for our life together. We wanted to conquer the world together. But then, real world problems crept in. Even though we had big plans, we had no impetus to go out and do what we wanted to do. We wanted to be dominant, rich, in charge of our destinies. In reality, we were just two lost souls who progressively started to masturbate more and more, detaching one from another.

Sometimes, we would read erotic stories together. I would show her some of my favorites, she would show me hers. Finally opening up one to another, we realized that we both wanted to be submissive. We both read bisexual stories: she got off on guys dominating other guys, I got my rocks off on various cuckold scenarios. Not wanting to take it too far, we agreed on finding ourselves a domme. We wanted to be pets and servants of a beautiful woman with a firm hand. We wanted to lose our free will, if only for a short time: to be together and to be controlled by someone more sexually confident and powerful than both of us.

We opened an account on a fetish dating site and started our search. Our plans, however, did not go forward as we had hoped. All the women that we talked to were without a fail crazy bitches, or so it seemed to us. They wanted to use us "for a night", "as soon as possible", and all that jazz. We wanted to be special, we wanted to be cared for - all we got was ready-made, heartless and disturbing offers of casual BDSM sex. For us, BDSM was about the mind and the heart. While communicating to these "dommes" we would also get a flurry of random guy messages soliciting things from: "photos of your bitches ass" to questions about whether they can fuck me or my girl or both of us at the same time. We were getting tired with the whole scene and were ready to resign to our boring vanilla sex life...

Things didn't quite turn out that way, however. Not a month into our big "search for a domme" experiment, out of a blue, another guy contacted us. He was 41, and called himself "kindwolf". His profile details were empty, only thing he shared with the world were three photos of - presumably him: one in a business suit, one of his hairy but well defined torso and one of his big uncut prick. She was the one that saw his message, I haven't been opening our profile for a few days at that point. The message was simple, he just inquired how our search was going. She was bored and started to exchange messages with him. Soon, she confessed to him all the troubles we had and our decision to leave the site. He told her that he was married but had some experience with the scene, given that his wife was very bland sexwise. He offered to share his experiences and suggested we both join him in a chat room and have a talk. Nothing kinky, just talk, maybe he could help us find that domme that we were searching for.

When I got home, she showed me his messages and my first reaction was: "Wow, this guy packs a bigger cock than me. You sure you want us to talk to him? Seems to me he's like the rest of them - probably just another jerkoff that wants your naked photos."

"I don't know, he seems nice... He's not t h a t big. I'd say he's just a few centimeters above average. Maybe he has some good advice on our whole situation, he really seems more experienced than us."

In the end, I agreed with her and we arranged a chat session with him. That first time, we chatted with him for four hours or so. He wanted to know everything that he could about our sex life. And we told him. We saw no harm in it, to us he was just a really well articulated and polite anonymous internet person. He even made us confess our well hidden desires for man on man content. After our first chat with him, we were surer of our submissiveness than ever. We made long and tender love that night. Of course, she was never able to orgasm with me just from penile penetration, but as we cuddled after I came, she cooed in my ear: "This was the best sex we ever had."

"Do you want to cum too?"

"Nah, I'm too lazy to masturbate now, let's just sleep..."

***

As days went by, we exchanged more and more messages with our kind wolf. We would send him links to the erotic stories and videos that we liked and he talked to us about them. Sometimes, he even sent some back. Then, one day, he suggested a Skype talk. Me and my girl, we were kind of nervous about it. She typed to him:

"We don't know, we really don't want to show our faces to you..."

"No problem guys, why don't you two just buy latex masks and we can talk like that. I'll send you a link of a product I think is cool and you can go to the store and pick it up."

After some deliberation, we agreed. She reasoned: "Meh, what's the big thing. He won't be able to see us, we'll just have a little chat. No harm done."

That seemed OK to me, so we checked his link out and bought the masks. They were just plain black latex masks with openings for the eyes and the mouth, we've seen enough of those in the porn that we watched together.

As the fateful Skype night approached, we were both getting more and more excited. We went about our day as usual but regularly stole glances at those shiny pieces of latex that were lying on our bed. We decided to dress casual for our session: she wore tight blue jeans and a loose t-shirt and I wore my jeans and a polo shirt. Then came the masks. I put hers, she put mine. The smell was overwhelming, the feeling of tightness on my skin was arousing, I instantly got hard. I felt imprisoned by the black latex but at the same time free as a bird to explore myself and my needs with the one I loved. At 1900, the time that our wolf had earlier suggested for the session, we were both in our chairs and in front of the computer. My heart was beating hard, I felt a mixture of fear and wild horniness. At last, his call came and with shaking hands she clicked Answer.

That was the first time we saw our future Master and Daddy. He was a good looking man: dark eyes and hair, short stubble and well built. Not a body builder, but he definitely had a strong body. He wore a black wife beater:

"Hi guys."

"Hi!" we answered in unison.

Our conversation started a little awkward at first, but as time went by, we loosened up. We talked about our need to be controlled and he told us a little about his managerial job and his previous BDSM encounters. At one point in the conversation, he sent my wife to get a pair of red high heels she mentioned to him during our earlier chats. She put them on and paraded them for him. Then he wanted to see her in her yoga pants. She had one pair which she bought a few months back but never really wore them because she thought them "too slutty". This time, she put them on without a question. As I watched her prance in front of the camera in her black skin tight pants, a mask and red high heels - for a man 17 years her senior - I felt confused and aroused. I wanted to be subservient to this young goddess that was showing her body to another man, but at the same time, I wanted to fuck her like an animal. Suddenly, he shifted his attention from to me:

"How does she look?"

"She's beautiful" I answered honestly.

"Do you want her?"

"Very much"

"Sit down, dear, I have an idea I'd like to discuss with you both."

She sat down, perspirating, breathing deeply, stupid with desire.

Then, he made us an offer: if we are willing, he will be our Master till we find a female domme. We can agree on a predefined time period, say 2 weeks to a month in which he will take care of us. It would be totally anonymous, and we would have his word that nothing we do together will be made known to anyone besides the three of us. Off course, there could be exceptions to this rule, but all three of us would have to agree on them first. We would wear masks to prevent any possibility of our playtime going public.

He seemed like a cool guy but I had my reservations: "What about me? I don't especially like guys, and that's the prime reason why she and I agreed on taking a mistress. I don't want to be some blokes gay boy. I like women."

He carefully listened to my remark and answered in a calm tone: "If you two agree to this - you certainly will be a boy. You will be my boy, and she will be my little girl. But that doesn't make you gay or any less of a man. You have free will and you are free to verbalize all your doubts and fears to me. I will take them into account. This doesn't mean that you will control what we do together, though. You might end up sodomizing your girlfriend on my orders, but you may find yourself in front of a webcam, kneeling for me as she masturbates to interracial porn. What is important to understand are two things: first, we will always talk about the things that we do together and your remarks will be heard and noted. Also, at any time, you can stop what you're doing if you're uncomfortable; second, I will be the Master and you will listen to my orders, not the other way around."

This was a lot to process all at once. I went silent. Seeing our confusion, he talked to us in a more cheerful way: "Aaah, don't get all sulky on me now. Think about all that we talked about and talk to me when you decide."

She answered coldly: "Ok, we'll do that", ready to hang up on him.

Then, he raised his hand: "But first, I want to say something. A lot of Internet boys and girls like to masturbate like crazy. This lack of discipline saps their energy and stops them from going through with anything they decide on. I think you two are the same, I think you are a wanker boy and a little wanker girl. So, I want you to do one thing for me: I don't want any of you orgasming before you give me your answer. When you are ready to obey, just send me a message. I know you two are weak and will probably flake out and go masturbate or fuck thinking about me. But that is on you. I cannot force you to do anything, I can only focus you and help guide you. The masks that you are wearing are a symbol of the journey you two could take with me: safe and free. Good bye and good luck not cumming, weaklings, hahaha!"

With that, he broke the call.

We were left there, in our chairs, flabbergasted. She started to peel off her mask, but I took her hand in mine, stopping her. She had ire in her eyes. She was still my girl, but there was also something new about her, something slutty, aggressive. She was wearing red heels that she never wore for me, her beautiful body was encased in tight yoga pants and her face covered with a mask a stranger made her wear. I wanted her. I wanted to pump her full of my seed, to make her mine forever.

We kissed - it was a messy, slobbering kiss - saliva dripped on our latex masks and on our shirts. Suddenly, it felt as if a dam broke inside of her. She became so soft, pliable, weak, willing... I started to peel my own mask - but this time - she was the one to stop me.

"Not yet" she whispered leading me to our bed.

I took her shirt and bra off and started to plant soft kisses on her breast and belly. When I tried to pry the yoga pants off her, once again she stopped me: "Lick my shoes"

I licked parts of her hot skin that were peeking through the straps of her red sandals. I licked and sucked on her beautiful toes. I was getting crazy with lust, I had to penetrate my girl right there and then. But, just as I mounted her and started to dry hump her through the tight pants, she stopped me again: "I don't want that bastard to be right. We are not weak wankers. I want us to think this through and calmly decide if we want to do this or not. I don't want us to reduce ourselves to masturbating scum - quietly wanking off in the dark. We tried that life for long enough. It sucks. We need to try this. We need to be strong, proud and clean. We have to prove to him that we are not like the rest of those weaklings. Promise me, babe..."

Still sporting a giant erection that wanted to rip through my boxer shorts I reluctantly agreed with her and quietly took my mask off. She took hers off as well and we just laid there on the bed, thinking about what was happening to us. We have wanted this for a long time, and now it came, but it wasn't quite like we expected it to be. Nevertheless, it was strong.

For the rest of the week I thought I was going to lose my mind. As if to tease me, she started to dress provocatively around the house. She went around barefoot, wore shorts, tank tops and even some white yoga pants that she bought that week on a whim. I could see her black thong through the thin white fabric and went mad thinking about her smell. At night, I would pretend I had to go to the bathroom so that I could smell her worn thongs. With closed eyes, I inhaled like a madman, smearing her soiled underwear all over my face. This didn't help alleviate my predicament. My balls were tight, heavy and painful. I wanted to spurt. I wanted to jack myself off. I wanted to lap her dripping juice. I wanted to get my tongue deep inside her ass and taste the inner side of her bitter sphincter. I was going crazy. But, she persistently rejected my sexual approaches and told me she wanted "time to think and to prove to him and to ourselves that we are not losers".

At this point, I didn't care much for proving anything - I just wanted to spew my jism. But I bowed my head and persevered for her sake.

Then, five days into our shared predicament, we got a photo on our Skype with a message below it. The photo was of a muscural hairy mans torso and his proudly erect member. The message read: "Hahaha, I knew you'd flake out, wankers! :D"

The day after we received this message from our wolf, she finally gave in to my sexual advances. Partially. After much convincing on my part, she let me lick her feet. They were smelly after a whole day of work but I didn't care. I furiously bathed them with my tongue, sucking her toes for all the taste they had. After 5 minutes that flew by like seconds she told me to stop. I was so desperate and hard I feared I might spontaneously drizzle my load.

While we laid in our bed, she used her feet to nurse my erection through my pants and we talked about everything that went on this week. We agreed we had to try this. All of our lives, we were afraid to commit to anything, afraid to start anything - always thinking something bad will happen. We always felt inadequate. This time, we had to go forward. This was a mistake, but it was a tasty and succulent mistake. Half an hour later, she typed him a message: "We are ready to serve, Master."