Yours... on My Nees

I am kneeling before you. Eyes downcast, waiting. A shadow passes across my face and for a moment I forget myself and glance up to see what cast it... and my eyes meet your cock, standing ready, so close... a tiny gasp catches in my throat, and then I remember and lower my gaze.

Then your fingers, so gentle, are playing across my features, tracing my brow, my cheekbone, my jaw, sliding underneath to my throat. I am trembling. Still gentle and yet demanding now, your hand closes slightly, grasping, tilting my face upward. Permission to meet your eyes has not been given and so I carefully keep my lashes lowered, peeking through at what still stands ready before me, pulse quickening, mouth and tongue heating, lips wanting, dying to part but held firmly shut by my last scrap of will.

A rumbling chuckle from you. I know you must be amused.

You move your hand again, this time sliding up my cheek and into my hair. Your touch is so soft... until you make a fist, clenching where hair meets scalp, the stinging shock bringing tears to my eyes. With this leverage you tilt my face upward even further, and I understand your unspoken bidding and meet your gaze... gentle, playful, and yet I cannot miss the steel beneath. The command, quiet and soft, holds the same:

"Open."

...And I do.

There is a shift in the balance between us. A mere inch, perhaps two, and the tip of your cock brushes between my lips. Faster than thought, my tongue reaches for you, but then your grip tightens on my hair and you say, "Now, now." With those two words, I know what you want: you want me ready, willing, eager beyond the limits of my own patience. You intend to find out just where those limits are.

I am burning with humiliation.

You shift your hips and I feel your cock brushing back and forth, first against my lower lip and then against my upper. Lower. Upper. Again. Keeping your fist in my hair, you place the thumb of your other hand on my chin and gently pry my mouth open even wider. Your gaze is stern and I understand that I am to hold this position, no matter my desires.

Then, pressure. Unhurriedly, you sink your cock in, inch by maddening inch. It is torture to wait, feeling your skin slipping past my lips, tasting the salt and musk that is the taste of you. Deeper, probing my soft palate, momentarily stopping my air flow... then moving past, giving me breath. Your soft pubic hairs tickle my nose, but I barely have time to register that before your cock is pressing against the back of my throat.

Tears spring to my eyes. I am utterly mortified, fighting my gag reflex and not even allowed to give you the pleasure I am dying to give. I try to cry out, "Please! Please..." but all I can manage is a small choking sound.

I feel your touch on my forehead, beckoning my eyes to yours. I meet your gaze, and you smile. "Now."

Given my own lead, I can't help but engage in a few ravenous strokes, taking you down my throat with such fury that you grunt and sway a little on your feet. After some moments I realize that I'm taking you swiftly to the end... Not yet ready to finish, I reign in, let you stand at the brink for just a moment, and then slowly, slowly bring you back down. I feel your fist gripping my hair... you are a touch frustrated but too awash in pleasure to really mind. Good. Slowly.

Pressing with my tongue and lips, withdrawing till it's just the head in my mouth, rubbing the ridge of your cock head back and forth first against the roof of my mouth and then against my upper lip, in... out. Stroking the underside with my tongue, memorizing every line, every rise and fall. Gripping the thick base of your shaft with one hand, pressing with my thumb on the very place where cock meets balls... withdrawing my embrace... one pace at a time until you're completely out of my mouth, and then placing one sweet, nearly chaste kiss just on the tip. I sit back a little, look up and meet your gaze, all innocence.

A look passes between us and I know that my control over this is only seconds from being wrenched out of my hands... but then you're in my mouth again, deeper, all the way into my throat... and stop. Holding you there, I swallow against you. Again. Withdraw for breath, dragging my tongue against the pulse I feel building in you, and then back into my throat... swallow. When again I come up for breath your hands on my head seek to restrain me, keep that cock deep inside, but I need air. And so the struggle begins, you moaning and occasionally uttering challenges to my virtue, thrusting against me and yanking on my hair when I let you out too far, and me pushing, first with you and then against you, gripping sometimes your hips and sometimes your balls, urgently trying to stay on top of the rising tide.

And now... tears are streaming down my face because this has become more choking than breathing... I'm a mess, my panties are soaked through with wanting you and my whole body trembles. I'm barely able now to keep up with the rhythm we've achieved. Somehow I manage to meet your eyes, and you know that it's coming to your turn again. You slide a hand under my chin, around my throat... and I surrender control to you once more......

It is time.

Stroke by stroke I feel the intensity building within you. For my own part, I have become a helpless vessel, struggling to keep my mouth in some sort of useful, controllable shape, but it is hopeless. You are using me, slamming in and out of me with no regard for my comfort or your own. The best I can possibly do is to suck in every scrap of air I can find, fight my gag reflex down and let my involuntary drool and humiliated tears flow freely. I am absolutely on fire with my need of you.

This moment is bliss.

Suddenly, every part of you tightens. Your grip on my throat, the flesh of your balls, even the angle of your rigid cock is suddenly contracting, coiling like a spring. Your strokes have become wild and arrhythmic, plunging deeper still into my throat and completely cutting off my air. Growling, digging your choking fingers into my willing throat, you force my head back; force me to meet your eyes.

"You. Fucking. Whore." You say it with such adoration.

And then, seed. It erupts from you with such force that I'm hard-pressed to swallow it all; indeed, some of it spills past my lips and down my chin. Salty, bitter, and incredibly sweet. Even as I'm finishing it, I find myself smiling. You may have come, but your cock doesn't seem to know that; it is still hard as iron.

Our eyes meet once again, and there is a challenge between us. Do we go on as we have? Can we? Then you push me off of you, roughly; you are still in control and I had better know it. Smiling your wicked little smile, you take my hand, help me to my feet. Gently wipe your seed from my face.

Eyes holding mine, fingers playing in my impossibly mussed hair, you are the very picture of the tender and compassionate mate. I begin to wonder whether I imagined that look of mischief just moments ago... but then it returns, that wicked smile. Your hand slides around to the back of my neck and before I know it I am bent over, my sodden panties exposed and that which lies beneath deliciously vulnerable. I am aware of nothing so much as the slight motion of air against my hyper-sensitive skin, until I hear your voice in my ear, bringing me almost to my own rapture with just two words:

"Your turn."