Sessions

FROM: Kyle

19:16 You should come over. We can have some fun

FROM: Ash

19:19 Sure. Give me half an hour

I pulled up outside Kyle's house. The curtains were all closed, but there were cracks of light showing downstairs. He'd be the only one in. He always was, when he invited me around.

I kicked the stand on the bike, stood up and took my helmet off. My hair was long for a biker, down between my shoulder blades. I usually tucked it into my leathers but I hadn't tonight. I like the feeling of the wind pulling at my hair as I scream down the road on my Blade.

I step up to his house; rap my knuckles on the door. It's a warm night, and I'm breathing hard -- energetic with excitement: from the bike, from what's going to happen tonight.

He opens the door, and he's the same stocky guy he's always been. Cropped black hair, clean shaven; well defined body. He's shorter than me by a few inches.

Kyle stands at the door, and I let him rove his eyes over me: I'm wearing a tight leather Alpinestars suit, in black. It clings to my body; white leather panels accentuate my thin waist, and cup the underside of my breasts. My blonde hair, messy from wearing the lid, hangs down over my shoulders. I run my fingers through it, and looks at him curiously.

'So... Can I come in?' I ask him petulantly, though he knows I'm playing.

'Shit, yeah,' he says, and stands back to let me through.

The door bangs shut behind me, and his hands are reaching out right away, pulling me towards him. He nuzzles my neck, breathes in my scent -- perfume, deodorant, sweat, bike fumes and new leather. One hand rubs my back as he slowly pulls the suit's zipper down... Revealing my black lace bra, my smooth skin, taut belly.

The zipper ends just below my navel. Kissing me, he reaches down between my belly and the warm leather, slides his hands into my black panties, and starts to fondle my dick—

But that's too far ahead: we should start at the beginning.

I've worked in the same office for five years. It's never been a good job, but the pay allows me the flexibility to live on my own, go out when I like, keep a small car and my motorbike, and buy the odd expensive thing once or twice a month. Better than average, you could say.

But work was so fucking dull -- until Kyle joined us. There had never been any totty at work; it was all old men. Even the women were bland and unappetising.

For the record, I am attracted to men, but on those long gaps between sexual partners (I'm quite particular) my gaze lazily drifts to girls who're about the same age as me. Nothing ever happens though, really.

And nothing had been happening for months at the time Kyle arrived, so it was time for new fantasies and a more regular changing of the bedclothes.

As a strictly straight guy, though, there was no way Kyle was ever going to see me as an attractive prospect.

And then, one works night out in town, he slips his phone number to me on a scrap of paper, tells me to call him and we can arrange something.

At first I'm eager -- heart pumping, thinking about this potential new conquest. Then I realise he's drunk. I find the note in my jeans pocket the next day, a Saturday, and decide to find out. He who dares...

'Yeah,' he says, sounding sleepy and bashful. 'It's been ages since I had my cock sucked. So... since none of those skanks at work do anything for me, I thought I'd give you a shot.'

It was one of the worst lines I'd heard. He was clearly bi-curious. I didn't think it would develop into anything more, but now I fancied the odds on being able to tap that cute little ass of his.

So I agreed, jumped in the car and drove over.

We had a couple cans, and he took me upstairs, to his bedroom. He lived with three other people, but they were out all this weekend.

We were both kinda loosened up, having a bit banter and crack on.

He stepped back. 'So here's what I want you to do: I want you to tie me to the bed,' he said. 'Tie me to the bed, and start sucking my cock.'

I looked at him. There was no apparent depth to his gaze, just a smouldering heat.

There were leather belts around the room. I used them to tie his wrists and ankles to the bed frame. He tensed against them, muscles twitching and straining. We were both still dressed, him in a tee shirt and jeans, me in a tee and trackie bottoms.

I straddled him, sitting my firm butt over his groin, and put my hands on his chest; felt the hardness of his pecs beneath the thin material. I starting rocking my hips back and forth, looking down at him.

He tiled his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes; I could feel him getting hard beneath me.

I slid back and undid the fly on his jeans. They felt tight against his body. I pulled them down, then his boxers as well. His semi-hard cock bobbed up and down over his abs. It was an average sized cock, about 7, two fingers thick.

I looked at him; his eyes were still closed.

I leaned forward and kissed his dick.

He groaned, a little.

The head of his penis was wet. I licked at it, licked the tip, the shaft, his shaven balls. Eventually I had him in my mouth, but I got to it gradually. I bobbed my head and heard him moaning.

I left off. 'You're going to have to shut up,' I said.

'Make me,' he growled, his eyes open again and burning.

There was a football sock on the floor. I wrapped it around his mouth in a makeshift gag.

I sat back and looked at him. His wet cock pushed against my trackie bottoms.

'Come on, speak bitch.'

He tried, but it came out all muffled.

I looked around the room. The wardrobe was full of his clothes, all designer gear. There was no uniform at work, we could wear pretty much what we liked. I'd seen him, in his expensive clothes, and gotten turned out thinking about what it would be like to wear his stuff.

Jumping of the bed I started going through his gear. He made muffled shouts at me from the bed but I ignored him.

If this was my fantasy, then it should be complete.

I stripped.

There were black Emporio Armani boxers in a drawer. I put them on.

He had a pair of Evisu jeans, the ones with a white daicock painted on the back. Although he was stockier than me, it was all in the upper body -- his waist was a 30, same as mine.

There were half a dozen All Saints tees, in the wardrobe and cast on the floor. I picked one up off the floor that had a flaming skull on in; it was dirty, and smelled of him. It was a size S, so it was even a little tight on me.

I pulled on his Timberland boots -- wheat coloured, and about the right size -- and jumped back up on the bed.

I was grinning.

He'd been watching me all the time, and I thought that by now his cock would be soft, maybe a semi at best. But he was still as hard as when I'd left him.

'Like seeing me wearing your stuff eh, bitch?'

He mumbled something into the gag.

'Shut the fuck up.'

The tee he was wearing was a V neck. I gripped it with both hands and ripped it down the front. I could see his hairless body, sweating a little. His breath was steady, but deep.

'You fucking want it, don't you, you bitch.'

His eyes looked up at me -- and I couldn't tell if it was fear or desire or lust or distress. Not that I cared at this moment.

His cock was in front of me. I reached down and held it in my fist. I squeezed and he moaned. Pre-cum dribbled from the bare head of his cut cock.

I leant down and spat on his dick whilst jerking him off.

He moaned, and I could feel him tensing; could see the muscles in his stomach and chest rippling as he came near.

I backed off; took my hand away.

He moaned something which sounded like a demand for me to keep going.

'Who's call the shots around here, huh?' I asked. 'You're my fucking bitch, you cunt, and don't you forget it.'

My hand I had used to wank him with was slick with pre-cum and spit.

I looked at the way his jeans were around his legs, and figured they could be pulled down a few more inches without needing to move and re-tie his ankles.

Peering up between his legs, I could see the start of his ass. It looked like it was shaved smooth as well.

I reached forwards -- and he was trying to say something to stop me, his eyes wide with panic and bout this most holy of places -- and slid my finger between his two deep buttocks until it rested over his arsehole.

He was fidgeting and bucking, trying to get out of the belts I'd tied him with. They held. I watched his muscles moving again, and felt myself growing harder inside his clothes.

I reached inside the Evisus and rubbed myself inside his boxers, all the while rubbing his arsehole with my fingertip.

He moaned and squirmed.

'That's right, bitch. You're gonna get fucked in your tight little pussy.'

I could feel myself getting ready to come, so I backed off rubbing my cock and knelt down again to feast on his.

I blew on it first, around the sensitive tip. I was rubbing his anus and I could feel his muscles there relaxing, despite his bucking.

I wrapped my lips around his dick again, and started bobbing -- deep movements, all the length of his shaft down the base and back up. He started groaning pleasurably again. I don't know if he realised, but the tip of my finger was now inside his cute butt.

I wiggled it, and thought what the hell and pushed my finger in all the way. He arched up in surprise, gave a little moan and then seemed to relax into it.

I pushed slowly in and out with my finger whilst bobbing my head on his cock, getting faster with both.

I looked to the side and saw his face -- it was frozen in pleasure, flushed red, mouth open a little, eyes half-closed.

I bobbed faster, concentrating on the tip of his dick, and forced a second finger into his ass.

He breathed heavily, and shot his load right down the back of my throat.

In the heat of the moment I had my hand free and was lowering the gag -- and kissed him straight out, pushing his own cum into his mouth.

In the heat of his orgasm it took him a couple of seconds to realise what was happening, and he tried to writhe away, pushing his head back into the pillows.

I pushed one hand under his jaw -- it was the hand that had been fingering him -- and gripped his nose with my other.

'Swallow it, bitch.'

He shook his head, trying to break out of my hold. But for all his muscle he was tied too tight be get any leverage, and eventually I saw his larynx bob. I held on for a few more seconds, just in case.

Satisfied, I let go, and put the gag back in place. He tried to say something to me as I tied it but I ignored him and forced it on.

I looked around the room again.

I had a piercing in my left ear, and so did he. He'd worn this little diamond cross -- the cheap sort you got from River Island or Topman as part of a set. I had a hunt around for it while he moaned on the bed. I think he wanted it to be over.

I found the earring, and put it on. Found his silver chain bracelet and necklace, and put those on as well. There was deodorant and aftershave -- the scent that I associated with him -- so I squirted them on myself too.

Might as well go all the way.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in his room. Despite being a couple inches taller than him, and a little slender on build, his gear fitted me pretty well.

I decided to jack off.

The mirror wasn't attached to anything, so I set it up alongside the bed, leaning it against the wall.

I got back on the bed and straddled him in the same place as last time. He moaned a little when my jeans touched his still-sensitive cock.

I watched myself in the mirror as I reached down to unbutton the Evisus. My cock was hard and tight inside the Armani boxers.

I watched his face as I pulled myself out of his underwear. He looked suitably impressed.

Not to brag, but I'm well endowed. A good eight inches of thick meat, and it was all hard; throbbing. Pre-cum covered the head of my cut dick.

I rubbed at it, and watched me wanking myself off in the mirror, straddling his half-naked muscled body. He glistened with sweat.

I bent down so that we were face to face; eye to eye. I kissed him, over the gag. He tasted salty. The position didn't seem to get me off any better, so I sat back up.

'Do you want it bitch?' I growled down at him.

He looked scared now.

I bunched up, so that I was sitting on his abs.

'You want this up your ass?'

He shook his head. I could see the whites of his eyes.

'Bullshit,' I said, sneering.

I carried on wanking, and I could feel myself getting closer with each stroke.

I reached out and grabbed his hair -- there wasn't much, he kept it short -- and pulled his head forwards. He squirmed but almost seemed to have given in to what was happening.

I saw myself in the mirror -- in his Evisu jeans, in his underwear, with his Timberlands on -- and looked down at his panicky screwed up face, and the slabs of meat that were his full pecs, and I came in a torrent that burst all over his face, onto the gag, and with enough force to go past it; I saw him trying to spit, and shoved his head back against the pillow.

I kept stroking myself and managed to shoot another load, over his face this time. Some of it went over his eye, hot and sticky, and he jerked backwards, deeper into the pillows.

I decided to take a risk, and pulled the gag off; bent down and started kissing him, licking my cum off his face and pushing it into his mouth with my tongue. He swallowed and coughed against the unfamiliar sensation, but his tongue came out, and his eyes were pleading with me to carry on.

We were both breathing hard. I stopped kissing him, and for a few moments we stayed as we were, breathless.

I went to get some water from the bathroom, and came back into his bedroom with the metal shower curtain rail.

There were two metal rings welded at either end, for holding the curtains in place at one point.

Those holes were big enough to pass a belt through.

'Well look what I found,' I said to him, grinning.

He didn't say anything; he had the gag back on.

It took a few minutes, but I managed to get his ankles tied to the welded rings, though I had to strip him of his jeans and boxers to get there.

I pushed the railing back as far as his legs would allow -- and then used a couple of belts to hold him in position again, tying the rail to the head of the bed.

His ass looked beautiful.

It was smooth, recently shaven; a little red around the hole from my fingering.

It looked so tight and warm and inviting.

The mirror was still there, so I could watch myself fucking him raw.

And I wanted to.

I wanted to.

'You're gonna take it up your fucking ass, you bitch,' I snarled at him, 'and you're gonna fucking enjoy it like the pussy you are.'

Just the sight of his ass bared, and his distraught compacted form -- all that muscle bound into a small space -- got me hard again, inside his boxers.

My fly was still unbuttoned, so I reached to pull down the lip of the Armani, and bared my dick. He moaned, like he was afraid of what was about to happen; but he nodded. He wanted it.

I shuffled forwards, feeling the materials of his clothes on me as I moved, feeling the pre-cum making its way down in the inside of my dick, and rubbed the tip of my cock against his pussy.

There was an invisible line of stubble there that my cock could feel; it just seemed to make things more intense.

I took a breath, and slowly pushed myself into his ass.

He cried out, once.

'Shut the fuck up!'

He did, but I could see him gritting his teeth; biting against the sock gag.

They say it's better for the bottom if you take it easy when it's their first time.

I didn't take it easy.

I wanted it to hurt -- I wanted power over him.

I pushed myself all the way in, feeling his insides opening and tightening against my dick.

I pulled out, all the way, and pushed in again, forcing myself up his butt.

I did this three or four times, watching his expression; seeing the pain on his face. He didn't ask me to stop.

I pounded up against his ass until I came.

It was one of my best orgasms, and I looked right at him as it happened. He had gotten hard again ad I had wanked him off as I pumped him full of me, but he hadn't orgasmed or came.

When I took my cock out, it was covered in cum and shit and blood.

He was red in the face, and I could see how the discomfort of his position was taking a toll, combined with everything else.

I untied his ankles, and let him relax.

Removed the gag. He smiled, seemed almost bashful.

'We're not finished yet,' I said, waving my dick at him.

He looked at it and almost gulped.

'Clean it.'

He bent his head forwards obligingly.

I shuffled up his body -- feeling the tautness of his muscles against my weight -- and let him take me in his mouth. He licked and sucked at his own juices and mine, swallowing everything down.

Watching him, and seeing him sucking me off in the mirror, I started to get hard again, and soon I had gripped his head in both my hands and was pushing myself deep into this throat.

I came, and he gulped all of it down.

I rocked back, exhausted and spent.

'Fuck,' he said.

'Yeah,' I said.

He smiled.

'Untie me, hey?'

I got off the bed; put the clothes I had come in wearing into a carrier bag.

'Hey,' he said.

I leant forwards and unbuckled one of the belts so he could get his hand free.

I went to leave the room, but turned back at the doorway and said, 'I'm keeping these clothes.'

'What? But they cost me—'

'Yeah I know,' I said. 'But you're my bitch now, you cunt. So all your shit is mine, got it?'

He nodded dumbly.

'Give me a call when you're ready for more,' I said, fully believing that this would be the one and only time.

'Sure,' he said, frowning.

I left, hopping in my car and driving off.

I had to have a wank as soon as I got in, still wearing his gear and standing in front of the mirror.

I shot my load everywhere.

Two weeks later I got a call from him.

'Come over,' he said. 'I wanna have a go.'

Another pay day had come and gone, and he said he had a new line-up of clothes for me to wear.

I took the car round. He let me in, told me to go upstairs while he fixed us both a couple beers like last time.

The clothes were laid out on the bed.

'What the fuck—?'

I turned as he came through the bedroom door, two bottles in each hand.

'What the fuck is this?' I asked.

He set two bottles down, offered one out to me. I took it and took a long suck.

He grinned. 'I guessed your sizes,' he said. 'This is good quality stuff. Makes me horny just thinking about you wearing it.'

I snarled: 'What the fuck is this?'

He stepped up close to me so that his face was inches away; I could smell his sweat. 'I said I want a go.'

He pointed at the clothes. 'You're fucking wearing them, and I'm fucking your ass.' And then, more relaxed: 'There's makeup in the bathroom and a razor too. Go shave your front, legs, balls and ass.'

I started to tell him where he could shove his fucking blade, but he thumped me on the chest and said that if I didn't do what he wanted he'd smack me in the face -- harder.

So I did. My chest and stomach felt strange without their small patches of hair; my balls were lush and soft afterwards. Just the feel of them rubbing against my hairless legs was starting to get me hard.

The makeup was simply foundation, which I rubbed on, lipstick and black eyeliner. Nothing fancy; I wouldn't have know what to do with anything else. My hair was reasonably long at this point, about shoulder length, ambiguously styled.

He wasn't in the bedroom when I came back through, so I tossed my clothes on the floor and looked at what he'd bought.

There were two flesh-tone domes on top of the pile. It wasn't until I'd picked them up that I realised what they were: breasts. Kinda floppy, and made form some strange material that kind felt like cold or clammy skin. Weird.