To Be Used

"I just want to be everything that you want and need sexually. I want you to use me for your pleasure. I want you to surprise me at work when you just need your dick sucked. I want you to come into the kitchen as I'm preparing dinner, bend me over the counter and fuck me until your seed runs down my legs. I want to be collared with my limbs chained as I'm bent over a stool and you spank me until your hand is imprinted upon my cheeks. I want you to use me David," I purred in pure honesty as we sat on opposite ends of the couch, our legs entwined.

David once again asked me a question trying to get to know me on a deeper level, but I kept us where I was comfortable. All questions and conversations had to return to sex. Sex was my comfort zone. But, David loved to pry. Or at least he loved trying. We were friends, and even better sex partners. Yet, he never stopped trying to get to know me on a deeper level. We would be taking an intermission from fucking, and he would suddenly ask some profound or deep question. And because we had agreed to be exclusive sex partners, we also agreed to be brutally honest with each other and answer any and every question that we had for one another. Remaining honest at all times allowed for us to continue fucking without any hang-ups or development of feelings for the other.

But, some of the things that David asked me had me questioning his feelings. Men swear all the time that they can handle having a woman who just wants them for sex, but after a few months in they start wanting to go out in public together and wanting to check in with each other. I however want nothing more than to be used. Categorize me as submissive or whatever you want, all I know is that I get so turned on when a man is fucking me, and loses control and all he can do is chase his orgasm. He turns into a wild beast and is either pounding away at my pussy, because the warmth and wetness feels so good that his dick has taken ahold of his control and he doesn't care if any pleasure or pain is being inflicted upon my body. That, that act right there is when I start to feel the waves of ecstasy building in my body.

Then, there are the times when he uses my mouth. Or abuses my throat, forcing his inches into my mouth and down my throat. Fisting my hair, yanking me down his length at choking speeds with such force. Then he pulls out of my mouth and slaps himself across my face. Degrading me, making me feel like the cock sucking slut that I am. I love when he takes his fresh saliva coated cock and smears it across my lips and chin as he pulls my head back to fully expose my throat. The more brutal and degrading that he is, the wetter my pussy gets. And then I just about orgasm myself, when he goes forcing his dick back down my throat making me gag as he spews his seed ensuring that not a drop is spilled. Or sometimes he pulls out, aims and shoots it all over my face and then forces me to clean up the last spurts that got trapped in the folds or never made it past his fingers.

But, what I love the most is when he does all this in public. I love when he has me dressed in panties and heels, restrained and blindfolded on my apartment balcony early morning as he teases me. I've made him breakfast and he sits on the furniture enjoying his food as I'm strapped to the railing creaming from anticipation and expectance. My hearing is heightened and with each car passing or door closing I become more turned on and afraid that someone will see me. My full breast covered in a lace bra dangling over the cold metal. My arms stretched out to my sides and secured in place along the railing, the cold of the morning and the metal forcing my nipples to pronounce themselves to the world. He has made me spread my legs so that I am continuously in an arched stance, and he has of course restrained my legs so that I maintain the stance even when I have had enough. And, yet he remains seated; eating his meal, relishing each bite. Torturing me with the sounds of his fork scrapping against his plate.

Over and over I hear his fork as it makes contact with his plate as he cuts into his pancakes, spears a piece of melon or scoops up a forkful of eggs. With each sound my need for release grows; I wish he would of restrained me with my legs together so that I could grind my thighs. But, no I'm in four inched heels strapped to cold metal with my ass arched the highest it has ever been as my essence makes a slow trail down my inner right thigh. Finally, I hear him set his plate down and take a sip of his drink. I'm not sure what he's drinking, but I find myself panting as he sighs from quenching his thirst. Then it happens, he has made his way to me. He stands behind me, and I know that the entire time that I've been restrained on the balcony in my lace bra and panties that he has not gone unaffected. His length is firm and rigid in his pajama pants as he presses into my backside. He gathers all my hair and fists it atop my head before leaning in and placing a moist kiss to the back of my neck. A whimper eases its way past my lips, and he shushes me. We're outside, and I have to remember that the key to not getting caught is to be quiet. He plants another kiss below the first one and continues down my spine, alternating between wet kisses and the gliding of his tongue. This act is pure torture, because he knows that I cannot remain still when he touches my spine and yet I'm restrained so I cannot move. He finally stops when he reaches the lace of my thong, and then he plants a kiss to my left cheek.

He's kneeling now, behind me between my spread legs. His hands are on the inside of my ankles and then he trails them upwards. Past my calves, knees and thighs to my core. One of his fingers hooks into my thong and pulls it to the side, baring my naked lips to the chill of the morning. Then I feel him; just as you sense someone walking up behind you. He's there, kneeling between my legs, rising closer by the second. The anticipation is weakening. I feel his breath, and I brace myself. He has barely even done anything and I am already about to lose it. And then it happens; I don't know when he opened his mouth, but his tongue has made contact with my clit. He flicks it again, and again. He is like a serpent and by flick five I have locked my knees as I silently cry to the heavens, thanking them for this man that continues to strum his own tune with his tongue. My hands gripping the railing, my knuckles turning white from the force in which I use, because I must remain silent.

I don't know when it happened, but he's standing behind me and he has freed himself from his pants. A hand trails up my spine into my overly curly mane and grabs a fistful, as his other hand readies himself at my entrance. He pushes between my folds while pulling my head back and exhales his satisfaction next to my ear. His strokes are slow and deep, forcing me to take all of him. His right hand is firm in my hair, staying tight with each stroke. I'm arched perfectly so that he glides in and upward smoothly. His left hand slides upwards to my hip where it rest, gripping my flesh I don't know if it's for leverage or to pace himself. But, his hold is tight. Never weakening, and his pace is steady. Never slowing, but steadily increasing. There's the sound of an elderly neighbor humming as she saunters by below with her dog for their morning stroll. David doesn't stop, doesn't let up. Instead his pace quickens; forcing his family stones to swing and tap ever so against my clit with each down stroke. He does this purposely. To see if I will make any sound to alert her to our tryst. I bare down, putting the kegel exercises I practice to use, and I hear his low barely audible grunt. I've won this round.

She passes and he's still stroking. Both his hands are at my waist now. Gripping and pulling me back onto him with each stroke. As he becomes more forceful the sounds of our bodies will give us away. With each stroke my ass bounces against his pelvis and lower abdomen. I close my eyes as I envision what we must look like. I would kill to be able to see his beautiful cock sliding in and out of my canal glistening in our essence. On a down stroke he circles his hips and he somehow finds that sweet spot, and a clearly audible "Fuck" hisses from between my lips. My insides are clenching, tightening, grasping at his dick. He has caused this to happen. He has forced me to orgasm, and the more I try to stifle my sounds the longer I ride the orgasmic wave. Oh and behold, I'm not the only recipient of this pleasure. David partakes in it as well.

He's nearing; I feel it. His strokes are hurried, his breath labored. He doesn't just want this; he needs this. If I were facing him, I would see that his gaze is hard set upon my lower back dimples where his thumbs now call their home. My ride comes to an end and David is still pumping. Focused. And I know better than to ask him where he plans to plant his seed, but I silently wish repeatedly that he will untie me and feed me. As I'm on my 22nd plea to the sexual genie that be, David sounds off announcing that he has neared his end. He pulls out leaving me bereft before spewing his seed across my ass, marking his territory. He's holding his breath as he empties himself; I know it from our sexual history. Then he moves with the quickness: bending down to untie my legs, and then my arms. Once my second arm is freed, he steps back to give me room. I turn and there he stands: pajama pants down around his upper thighs, chest bare with a slight sheen, and his cock glistening still impressively hard. He looks at me with a brow raised, the message passing between us without words.

I bend at the waist and clean him with my mouth. Tasting him. Tasting me. Tasting us. This is not what I wished for, but it's a decent consolation prize. I engulf him fully and swiftly on the first try, with a satisfied purr vibrating from my throat when my lips touch his base. Him in my mouth, down my throat is all that I ever want. This is my happy place, him filling me and me tasting him. I draw back, sucking in as I do, and then lap greedily at his slit before standing completely and looking into his eyes. David smiles proudly, before tucking himself away and walking back over to his breakfast setup. David grabs his paper towel and upon return to me he twirls his finger indicating that he wants me to turn around. I do as instructed and he cleans the mess that he has made upon my flesh. Smacking me on the ass when he is finished.

He takes his turn at the railing and I go about cleaning. Breakfast was great for the both of us.