See You In The Next World

Her shiny exposure of bust enlivened Maria's cock sucking. Hell's bells, the sight supercharges her giving head. Moisture, heat, pressure, her mouth did it all.

Removing the feeble red covering of bra from her left breast, I squeezed, pinched and pulled the nipple. I read in her bloated nips unbridled sexuality. These little puppies, stiff and swollen, displayed her manifest exhilaration acquiescing to my dominion.

She sucked more; I leaned forward, dipped my head, strained, and drew her cocoa butter flavored nipple into my mouth, pinched the bud between my front incisors.

Maria's mouth gripped my cock, she cried out deep in her throat.

Biting the nipple, my left hand, spanked her, a stinging sound.

Maria sucked more vigorously; the spanking turned her heat up.

"Suck harder; I desire to come in your mouth."

I stopped and stretched; the bending made my back ache, a reminder of my old war wound. I stood, flexed my loins toward Maria's mouth, continued spanking her. My cock's helmet strove to touch the back of her throat.

Maria was made muse sucking cock. Rhyming words, an ode to oral sex flared, fixed in my brain: "my cock, her mouth its dock, my prick, Maria licked by and by."

Abysmal verse, yes. It was poor poetry. Let one of these great poem smiths, a legendary bard in his time attempt something more substantial, jot down lyrics commensurate to Shakespeare, Keats, Frost or Whitman while contending with the pleasures of Maria's mouth. I felt such unrivaled joy buried in her mouth, the words of this slight poem sounded majestic as I got head. Anyway, the full measure of pleasure driven into me compliments of Maria can not be scribbled down in prose or written in verse. No way.

Licked, sucked by Maria what more from pleasure may I expect? Only in fucking her other receptive orifices, the same sublime ecstasy.

Maria, high off the bed, sucked; standing, I yanked her hair, scratched at her back, and spanked her butt.

Then I fulsomely came in her mouth.

"Bitch, swallow my come."

Maria did and she does to this day. Every bit of my sperm went down her gullet in one sustained swallow.

Quickly, in a delightfully fluid motion, Maria sprawled on her butterfly tattooed back with her left leg forming an inverted v.

While Maria watched me, her fingers labored between her legs, I removed four laundry cords from my traveling bag.

"Spread out baby, you know the drill."

Maria extended her arms toward the top two bed posts; spread her legs wide, aimed them at the bed's bottom machine carved stanchions.

Growing up in Olaf, Minnesota, a Boy Scout in Troop 116, wearing a starched green shirt covered in a rainbow of merit badges, matching shorts and green knee socks, I learned about cooking, camping, electricity, first aid, stamp collecting and wood carving and knot tying. I learned all sorts of knots. A figure of eight knot, overhand knots, bowlines, sheepshanks, clove hitches, halyard knots and square knots naturally.

Employed for a time on an Alaskan tuna boat and a brief sojourn as a deckhand on a Caspian Sea ferry, I learned more about knots, using much bigger lines. I also became an expert rust remover and a world class sea going painter. Maria knew of these vocations and my skill tying knots.

My expert knot tying was not critical to my avocation as a dominant. However, I took pride in my ability to secure a woman, a Maria with a nicely turned knot anytime anywhere.

First, I tied Maria's left arm to the bedpost. I decided to use simple square knots this time around. She has a three inch cicatrix near her left elbow. I often wonder about that scar, but I have never asked. I wrapped the cord around her right wrist; secured her to the right bed post. The third cord on Maria's right ankle not too tight and then tied to the post. Finally, I secured her left ankle in the same manner.

Deciding against gagging her, I covered her green eyes with a sleep mask, blue on the outside, black inside, held on head by a strap of Velcro.

If I am suddenly incapacitated; Maria is what the Brits call a sticky wicket. Oh, the power I have at that moment.

Oh, such dastardly things I could do to and with Maria. Endless possibilities are available to me. I could witness a procession of men fucking Maria, each one patiently waiting his turn. I may position in one or all her holes simultaneously anything making one or both of us ecstatic. With her anchored in such a manner, I use pins, clamps, any device exclusively designed for dominance. Maria loves spanking, whips, paddles, anything useful for imparting stings.

To touch Maria now, I risk a frivolous ejaculation. To prevent this, I sat down in one of the black wing chairs. The cold leather felt bracing against my back and balls, my cock temporarily shriveled.

Leaning back, I stroked my cock. Maria was breathtaking. Bound, vision fettered by the sleep mask, breasts towering, long shapely legs pinned down, her delta shining with wetness, her wrists and legs stretching against her knotted cords. Now, I wish I had ordered her to keep the high heel slides on her feet.

"Maria, you bad, naughty girl, I need to make you see the error of your ways."

Standing, my back and butt chilled from the cool chair, to my bag of tricks sitting on the dresser, I removed two items until recently kept in my disaster kit at home. Then I removed such accoutrement as I might need.

Maria, silent, tensed up, nipples puffed-out, head up, swiveling around, tuning her ears, struggling to decipher sounds.

She was waiting for the other shoe to drop so to speak while I got down to work.

The two items formerly found in my disaster bag: a yellow waterproof matchbook, holding its full complement in several packed rows and a fat white candle.

Towering over Maria, cock overhanging her head, I removed one match, struck it against the match book cover and lit the candle's wick. Candle wax soon fell in globs on Maria's boobs, flat stomach and above her snatch. Bubbling, hot, quickly congealing. Generous portions of heated wax plopped down on Maria's warm flesh, her lips and nostrils quivered. She enjoyed the sensations in this falling rain of candle flesh, loved it. I bombed her breasts, Maria groaned. In front of her face, close to her lips, the stuff plummeted down. I doused the candle flame with two of my moistened fingers but before doing so, I tossed my head back, held the candle up, dropped wax on my chest, the top of my cock and inserted the candle's length into Maria womb. Sent it in deep, retracted it, moved it back in and then back out. Maria's body bucked, her head snapped back toward the woodworked headboard. Her arms strained against the cords. My left hand stroked my cock.

"Oh fuck," she said. "Fuck" said three more times.

"I learned this trick on a busty Italian lady living in Baku."

"I love it. Master, make me come with the candle."

For another ten minutes or so I continued to fuck Maria with the candle. Rubbing against her clit it slid in and out, sometimes almost disappearing.

"I am coming."

Maria raised her hips, her arms and legs stretching the cords tightly and she came. I did too.

The next was hardware: brass nipple clips connected by chromium chain, one pinned to each bud. I had removed the candle, inserted a clear acrylic dildo between her legs. Sliding in half an inch, stopping, sliding in another half inch and stopping until the clear cock shaped cylinder is fully buried in Maria's sodden cunt.

"That hurts so good," Maria said.

I squatted over Maria's head, her arms and legs remained bound by cords. My knees pressed down on the wrinkled sheets. Furiously, I stroked my cock.

"Slut, bend back your head and open your mouth."

"Yes."

"Yes what."

"Yes, master."

Sperm shot from my cock into Maria's mouth.

Maria swallowed.

"That is a good girl," I said.

A bullet whizzing by one's whiskers, stepping into air, falling, wondering if this bungee cord really works, seeing one's baby that first time, these thrills impossible to fully value until the thrill smacks into you. I registered the same concentration of adventure, pure emotion and appreciation of life lived on the edge.

Such exhilaration bounded through me looking at Maria's binds banded by me. Yes, a power trip. My mania hankered to on Maria's delicious body. In executing my dominance, her submission kicked into me jolts of ecstasy a junkie had to use a damned needle for.

The sixty nine position next we did, my cock deep in Maria's mouth, my mouth between her legs, tongue flicking her clit. Maria's mouth full of my member sucked with fervor. My sperm creeps closer and closer to its jumping off place, leaping into Maria's mouth.

I licked her thighs; Maria removed her mouth from round my shaft and sucked at my balls.

This fine, firm bed, a place where a celebrity had fucked before no doubt, did not sway or squeak as I did to Maria what she did to me.

I extended both my arms, touched the cords binding Maria's ankles and stroked their bony knobs. My hands moved to the front of her bare feet and played with her toes. At that moment plastered on Maria's body I wished for more arms, more cocks.

"Imagine if the maid walked in now Maria."

Maria liked that image, the idea of someone seeing us this way.

Maria retained my cock in her mouth once more after thrilling me no end licking and sucking my testicles. My shaft dipped down once more and I shot a flood of semen between the cinctures of her lips.

"Hot damn," I muttered between her legs.

Keeping my cock in place, I redoubled my efforts going done on Maria. My tongue focused on her clit. Her body shook as I ministered to her with a muscle starting to ache somewhat. I slowed down and sped up, painted the sides of her clit, imagined spelling her name across its face. M-A-R-I-A. M-A-R-I-A. M-A-R-. As I scribbled the letter "I" she came.

I removed the cords then we made love.

We showered together, dressed and it was nearly time for a short stroll to the Grill House.