I was so wet from sucking his cock that it fell out a few times, but eventually he got it inside me and started pounding. He switched positions a few times, never warning me before his strong arms pulled me into place. It didn't matter that we both had a little extra fluff, in fact it made it feel amazing, having his weight on top of me. There was no one around for at least a mile to hear me scream when he took my ass dry. He didn't need lube, I was already wet enough.
He fucked in a way that said "I have deep-seated rage issues with women," but I loved that.
He came in my ass and got up, turning on the lights. I don't think I've ever seen a man sweat that much, and I was glistening myself, strewn across the bed like a discarded cum rag. He took some towels and threw one on my naked body.
He gave me some pajamas and we went out to the porch to smoke. This is where things started to get strange. He started talking about theoretical physics. Now I don't have a problem with theoretical physics, quite the contrary, in fact. However, as post-coital conversations go it was one of the weirder ones I've had. One portion focused on Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time," which he told me he wanted me to read. I told him I would, intrigued.
A small mechanical box sat on the porch table. It was a vaporizer for weed, he said, handing me the hose. It hit hard and I coughed like a motherfucker, but it was actually far smoother than I expected. Describing the breakdown of the THC molecules during decarboxylation, he chattered about chemistry for a while. I zoned out, high as fuck after the brief tolerance break from living with my parents.
He told me he obsessed over many different topics, studying them as much as any grad student would. He had a rather condescending manner of speaking that rubbed me the wrong way, but I was fascinated by his idiosyncrasies and kept listening. The conversation switched to psychology, another topic he obsessed over. His gorgeous blue eyes locked on mine.
"You know, you are very easy to read."
"I know I am, sir. I am an open book."
"Like, I can read your emotions as easily as if they were written on your forehead."
I remembered the time a few weeks before when another dom (Jamie, my favorite) had written the words "slut" and "whore" on my forehead for the camera. I smiled and sighed.
"I am a big pile of emotions right now, sir. I just ended a 4.5 year relationship and I'm fucking everybody to try to make the pain go away. You're number 19 in three weeks."
"I'm not surprised, I knew this was a rebound. He really messed you up, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let me help you with that..."
He reached out and took my hand in both of his. At first I assumed he was going to lead me back inside and fuck me again, but instead he spread my fingers, touching the skin between them with his own.
"You're very suggestible, aren't you? Do you trust me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I want you to release the tension from your body, let your eyes go out of focus and relax your shoulders..."
