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I felt myself pressed back into my chair. I was still sticky with cum, and my cock was refusing to go down. I was flushed, still, with arousal: could feel it in the redness of cheeks, the flutter in my chest, and the swelling of my prostate. I ran through the images he had spun for me. Him slapping his elephant trunk cock off his quads, his seed splattering on the floor. The veined thickness of his manhood teasing and training my asshole. The heavy thud of his footsteps as he lumbered his way to me. His huge body pressing heavily on my puny one. I could almost feel his weight again: the chorded strength of his pecs, the rough tangles of dark body hair. And his smell. It was so clear to me. The feeling of being wetly pressed into his pits, the sweaty tangle of hair forced into my nose, and the heavy, masculine musk assaulting me.
The red dot on my screen indicating a new email blinked mercilessly. It was, of course, from him.
“David, I trust you enjoyed my most recent addition to our series. I suspect you enjoyed it too much. Breaking the pact is not allowed. You know this. Punishment includes more little details about your little life making it into further series, and something more creative. The Amazon link below has a wishlist. Not for me this time, for you. Order all of the items and stand by for further orders. You obviously need more training.”
I click into the link. Nipples clamps. Silicon ball gag. A series of butt plugs, starting with a puny training size. And an obscenely huge dildo, furrowed by thick veins in a pattern vaguely similar to Writer’s. In fact, incredibly similar. I pull up one of the videos he had sent me to confirm, and was again lost in lust for his oversized… everything. His legs, thick slabs of muscle, bloated with strength. His balls, baseball size, only normal-looking when his monstrous cock rested atop them. The veins, yes, that’s what I was looking for. I compared it to the dildo, which was made by some German company I had never heard of. Uncannily similar, I thought… though probably smaller than him.
With hands beylikdüzü escort still stickily wet from my breach of our pact, I clicked buy, entered my details, expedited to shipping and watched the website merrily inform me that the instruments of my punishment would be with me soon.
My legs, I find, are working again, so I drag myself to the shower.
*****
While I wait to hear from the Writer again, I entertain myself with our back catalogue, and the lusty comments underneath them. One user, who I know had paid top dollar for a few pictures and an appearance in one story, writes longing fan fiction under each post. No longer able to afford the Writer’s ministrations, he lingers pathetically in the comments, asking whether anyone knows who the David of the story is, and writing hammy paragraphs imagining himself replacing David.
A text from UPS lets me know that my package is arriving on Friday, so I book a day off work to wait for it. I am simultaneously terrified and aroused by the thought of my wife finding it, and, the night before it arrives, I annoy her by asking about her work schedule and lunch plans. While she showers before bed, I entertain myself with fantasies of her finding the delivery, first thinking of the excuses I would make, but then I imagine myself showing her the stories, and the small selection of photos and videos I had amassed of the Writer. As my left hand strays to a nipple, and my right hand to my erection, I keep my ear trained on the sound of the shower, and build an increasingly elaborate fantasy in my head. I imagine Susan wielding the enormous dildo, teasing my hole with it, training it to accept more and more. We’re recording our sessions for the Writer, showing him that I can take him, paying for his flights. Susan watches him fuck me, helps guide the enormity of his cock into the hole that she helped train for him.
I start masturbating more vigorously, imagining how it feel to have my hand wrapped around his massive cock rather my puny one. How it feel for my fingers to stretch and not be able beylikduzu escort to close around it. The feel of that thick, central vein pulsing in my grip.
I drop my left hand from my nipple, which is throbbing painfully, and reach for my phone. I can feel myself getting close to climax, a pressure building in my balls. I find myself opening PayPal, and rush through my password, tap send, hit some random numbers and, just as a jet of cum arcs onto my stomach, press send.
I have to catch my breath before I can look at my phone. $2787 dollars sent to the Writer. My stomach begins to sink, but a new warm wave of lust smothers it, and another quick jet of cum joins the first.
I look up. Susan is standing at the door in a towel. I have no idea how long she was there. She moves slowly to my side and looks at my phone.
“Paypal,” she says. “You’re jerking off … in front of me to … Paypal?”
Again, dread and arousal clash. I saw myself through Susan’s eyes, my dick throbbing in my hand, nipples swollen from play, spurts of hot cum on my chest. Would it arouse or disgust her? It’s been so long since we even feigned intimacy that I’ve forgotten what she liked.
“It… it was the last app I had open. Before I closed what I was watching.”
She continues to look at me strangely.
“I could hear you in the shower,” I add, “I got really turned on and just… overdid it.”
I’m flushed with a strange confidence. Sending so much money to the Writer. It felt like I had bought a piece of him. Just for a while. I expected embarrassment but I don’t find any. I reach nonchalantly for a tissue and begin to clean myself up. My cock is still ragingly hard, and its vein are angrily swollen.
“You look … bigger than before,” Susan remarks. “Maybe it’s just been a while, but, no, you definitely look thicker than I remember.”
Strange comments from my perpetually frigid wife. But she was right, I thought it was just the energy of arousal, but I definitely felt thicker. Like I filled up my hand a little bit more.
I escort beylikdüzü stopped examining myself and looked back to her. Her nipples had hardened and could be seen through the thick towel.
“I think I could go for another round,” I heard myself saying.
Suddenly, she had clambered on top of me, and for a moment, I feel myself pressing into her, feel her vagina widen to accept me and grip me tightly. So tightly, like I had never felt her before. I close my eyes. Then, suddenly, I feel myself being pressed into, can actually feel my hole being pressed roughly open. I open my eyes and, instead of looking up at her, I find myself looking down at him. I am straddling him, tiny atop his hairy, bulging herculean frame. I can smell my own sweat, can smell Susan’s showered freshness, and then, under it all, his animal musk. A heavy, hot smell, more than sweat. The smell of muscle soaked in years of gym sweat, saturated in masculinity.
I feel the tightness of my asshole loosen, giving up the battle as I am rent painfully open by the probing hugeness of his cock. I grip it tightly, can feel each inch of him inside me, even the thickness of its veins pressing against my insides. I grip him tighter than Susan can grip me.
I feel both experiences at once, like an image superimposed over another, Susan panting and moaning, whispering about how thick I feel, then me breathless, his fat cockhead hammering my greedily swollen prostate, the bunched muscles of his arms, criss-crossed with veins, effortlessly lifting me up and down the obscene length of his manhood. Suddenly he is painfully slamming me into his crotch, every inch in one thrust, and then a sudden heat, incredible heat, molten heat filling me, and his eyes fluttering into the back of his head as he unloads a geyser of cum deep deep inside me.
The vision disappears, and I feel a sudden wetness in the bed. Susan, hair still soaked and eyes wild, has cum. I hear a moan that I didn’t realise I was making and realise I have cum too. Back in reality, we both look at each other strangely, processing what has happened. Susan eases herself off me, and pads back into the bathroom to clean up. I check my phone. A notification to say that the payment has gone through. And another. A Paypal payment of of 1c from the Writer, with a message that just says “Enjoy”.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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