A Well Done Steak

I woke up before sunrise as usual. My father's side of the family was from farm stock. Waking up early came naturally to me. My mom's side of the family is in New York. I don't know much about them. They had stopped speaking to her when she had dated a Protestant. Her Haredi community had strict rules. That Protestant had married her, and my birth had happened shortly after that. They had moved to Midland, Texas so that I could do more with my life than raise cattle. My father's extended family has various ranches within a short drive of my home.

My clock radio came on. Country music, of course. I set it to warn me that sunrise would come soon. I have to doven certain prayers at sunrise. I had morning wood. I'm a healthy young man. My office job does not start until 9 am. I wish I could rub one out, but I have rules to obey.

A palm pressed into the base of my shaft. A weight on the mattress next to me told me he had let himself in and settled on the bed. No one else has the key to my apartment. Pressing his palm harder into my manhood, he slapped my balls to the beat of the music. My erection subsided.

He presented his glory to me. It was soft and, thanks to Communism, uncut. He hadn't been able to study Islam until after the Soviet Union fell. I kissed his foreskin. He caressed my hair. He loved me in a certain way. He possessed me. I gave him pleasure. That is our relationship. No complications. No meeting the family or friends. I am his. That is all we need to know.

He grabbed some hair and pulled gently. My mouth opened for him. His glory entered. My lips pressed down to give him pleasure. His fingers grabbing my ears firmly told me to keep still. He pumped at his own pace. He entered my throat when he was ready. He smiled as I gagged some and tears traveled down my cheek. That told him I was struggling. That told him I was not used to this treatment. That told him I had seen no one else since his visit a month ago. He lives in Huston where the jobs pay much better.

I knew that my morning would be easier if he released his seed in my throat. My mouth is not the only hole unaccustomed to this treatment. He had explained to me on our first date years ago that a wife cannot refuse her husband according to Islam. He had been trying to convince me to give up men and go back to dating women. We had not planned on that meeting to be a date. I had argued that a Jewish husband is obligated to obey his wife in the bedroom. He had responded by looking at me the way he can. Those had been my last words that night.

He did release his seed deep in my throat after some time. He stayed inside my mouth until he was soft again. Then he looked down at me and explained that his wife was visiting her relatives in Italy that month. I understood. I bowed low on the bed so that my forehead touched the sheets. He inspected his property. I took pride at how my rosebud tightly gripped his finger. It was proof of my fidelity.

His spit lubricated my hole. He preferred to keep things natural. The lack of condoms made sex easier. The lack of synthetic lubrication made it more difficult. The first moment of pain reminded me that I belong t him. My hole opened up to him. I am well trained. I am his. My submission allowed him to plow me deep with ease. He is hung much better than I am. His zeb against my prostate was my reward for obedience.

I remained motionless in my position for many minutes of fucking; then his passion grew stronger. His pounding became hard enough to push my body forward with each thrust. My soft dick flapped beneath me along with my weak balls. His thrusts grew faster and harder.

My prostate screamed with pleasure. I wanted to cry out my love for him, but discretion is a sharmot's honor. I bit my pillow. He caressed my hair. He loves when I accommodate his desires. His ownership of my mouth goes beyond sex. There are certain times when I cannot speak. There are certain things I cannot say. He has the power to change me from a sharmot to a sharmota with a knife and the flick of his wrist. I am grateful that he does not do certain things. It is a fair exchange.

"You may express your joy physically, my bitch," he whispered in my ear.

Having obtained permission, I released my manhood from its mental block. I got semi-hard. He reached around me to feel my status. He stopped thrusting and held himself balls deep inside of me. He chuckled. Then he pulled out. I remained motionless.

He found his mobile phone and synced it to my computer monitor so that he could watch what it records when he looks at the screen. He turned me around and bent me over again so that we both faced the screen. He aimed his camera phone at my semi-hard manhood. Then he fucked my ass with a vengeance.

At times, he pushed my head down to the mattress so that I focused entirely on his manhood plowing me. At times, he grabbed my neck and lifted my chin so that I stared at the computer screen. I could clearing see the weakness of my own manhood as I felt the power of his manhood. Alternating between these positions as his whims changed pushed my mind into thinking only of his power. My semi subsided. I became soft for him again without any effort. He growled in my ear as a reward when he saw my surrender.

He pushed in balls deep and stayed there another time. His hands fondled my well shaved chest. His lips kissed my well shaved face. I felt his love so fully. I wanted his seed in me. My muscles milked his zeb enthusiastically. My reward was another dose of his fit DNA. He is a breeder.

Spooning on my bed as the sun climbed well past dovenning time, I longed to move to Houston. I would miss him so much until his next visit. Once a month is not enough for me. I felt sad when he gave me the bad news. He was going to Kosovo to find another wife. The trip would last a year.

There was a silver lining to his announcement. He wants to make sure that no other man plays with me when he is gone. Tomorrow, he will take me to get a certain symbol tattooed on my back along with his name.