Photo
[sample below, be sure to click afterwards and read the full story]
…


I’ve not played for days. It’s a game which drives her wild. Knowing I’m hard, horny, yet not touching. At the very least not pushing myself to cum. 
Some days it’s hard to resist playing over jeans, boxers, mischievous fingers in the bath with a variety of desires. Some light and playful, others with a want to squeeze, tease back my foreskin, rub back and forth enough to elicit a purr, a moan. Yet never to cum. 
Other times I’ll invite her over, and amongst conversations whisper that I’ve been saving myself, tell her how long it’s been since I came.
She remembers how it lit a fire within her the first time. We were purely friends back then, and she questioned why I’d do such a thing. I replied of how delicious the build-up is, the back and forth all week until I can take no more, flat out have to push myself. Of how intense the climax is on the other side, stealing my breath away, spunking so hard, so much over my hand, fingers, clock, clothes. The most divine mess.
She told me the thought made her wet. 
[click to read on]
…
All likes, reblogs and messages most welcomed, and mean I write more stories. Any correspondence is strictly confidential, even though anon is set to off.
…
The response so far has been astonishing, and has me really happy and inspired to write more. Thank you to everyone who’s celebrated this story in one of the above ways.
Please continue to do so, and perhaps have a delve into the archives while you’re at it :)
…
Should the right picture and inspiration come along, there will be a new story soon!
…
Hoping you enjoy, as always ;)
>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

[sample below, be sure to click afterwards and read the full story]

I’ve not played for days. It’s a game which drives her wild. Knowing I’m hard, horny, yet not touching. At the very least not pushing myself to cum.   Some days it’s hard to resist playing over jeans, boxers, mischievous fingers in the bath with a variety of desires. Some light and playful, others with a want to squeeze, tease back my foreskin, rub back and forth enough to elicit a purr, a moan. Yet never to cum.   Other times I’ll invite her over, and amongst conversations whisper that I’ve been saving myself, tell her how long it’s been since I came.  She remembers how it lit a fire within her the first time. We were purely friends back then, and she questioned why I’d do such a thing. I replied of how delicious the build-up is, the back and forth all week until I can take no more, flat out have to push myself. Of how intense the climax is on the other side, stealing my breath away, spunking so hard, so much over my hand, fingers, clock, clothes. The most divine mess.  She told me the thought made her wet.   As I enquired further she told me she loved to watch men masturbate, adored playing with them. As she did I moved over to her chair and we kissed for the first time. Taking her hand I guided it to the front of my jeans, leaving it just over hers as she scratched and squeezed and played over the ridge straining underneath.  She pulled back a little and looked me in the eye, as if the gain my approval and yet, her hand was already undoing my zip, finding the buttons on my boxers, fingertips tightening around my cock as she wanked me faster and faster.  She didn’t want to slowly edge me, she wanted me hot and sticky, pulsing and writhing against her, as I came over and over against her, over my clothes, moaning in sharp stabs in time to each wave of spunk she conducted. Her kiss ravenous against my lips as the point I came, tongue fevered in my mouth as she milked me.  …  Things returned to normal with our friendship, a little closer perhaps, definitely more honest with the things we liked, that which got us off, times we’d teased and in sharing porn.  Yet today was the first time since then I told her I hadn’t played to completion. Intimated it had been even longer this time. Every day edging myself with either those soft touches, sometimes in the bath, others between the sheets, all the time thinking of her hand wanking me last time. That it had killed me not to cum.  …  She stripped me down, lay me on the edge of the bed and watched as I ached for her. Holding my gaze, she took off every stitch of clothing. Licked her lips. Knelt down before my cock.  Rather than pushing me, needing the immediate prize as she had last time, she added to all of my teasing. Deft licks, smoothing swirls, dear god the moment her lips moved over the tip. Soft breaths and anticipation had me on the brink of capitulation alone, never mind when her mouth closed around my cock and she moved  all  the  way  down.  Moments thereafter of a longer, harder suck. Those tiny licks again. Her hand upon me as she tasted the tip. Every time I buckled, she’d leave me alone. Size me up. Before lavishing the softest teases anew. Building me again. Devastatingly close, but .. left alone again  ..  The point arrived when I couldn’t hold back. When my moans became the equivalent of a sob, razor sharp back and forth as I struggled to catch a breath, shivering, like crazy.  She tightened her lips around me, let them rock back and forth in constant rhythm, as if hypnotising in the moment so that she could savour what followed.  The climax was savage, cumming over and over in her mouth, she swallowed but it wasn’t enough, as I kept on spunking. A look in my eyes and she let the cum spill out of her mouth, over my balls, over the floor, before closing them again, returning to the rhythm, the moment.  My orgasm continued, as I bucked against the bed, gripped the sides, shivered and shuddered. All my previous teasing, destroyed by her own in the moment, seeing her naked, watching as she devoured every last second, nuance, drop.  

I’ve not played for days. It’s a game which drives her wild. Knowing I’m hard, horny, yet not touching. At the very least not pushing myself to cum. 

Some days it’s hard to resist playing over jeans, boxers, mischievous fingers in the bath with a variety of desires. Some light and playful, others with a want to squeeze, tease back my foreskin, rub back and forth enough to elicit a purr, a moan. Yet never to cum. 

Other times I’ll invite her over, and amongst conversations whisper that I’ve been saving myself, tell her how long it’s been since I came.

She remembers how it lit a fire within her the first time. We were purely friends back then, and she questioned why I’d do such a thing. I replied of how delicious the build-up is, the back and forth all week until I can take no more, flat out have to push myself. Of how intense the climax is on the other side, stealing my breath away, spunking so hard, so much over my hand, fingers, clock, clothes. The most divine mess.

She told me the thought made her wet. 

[click to read on]

All likes, reblogs and messages most welcomed, and mean I write more stories. Any correspondence is strictly confidential, even though anon is set to off.

The response so far has been astonishing, and has me really happy and inspired to write more. Thank you to everyone who’s celebrated this story in one of the above ways.

Please continue to do so, and perhaps have a delve into the archives while you’re at it :)

Should the right picture and inspiration come along, there will be a new story soon!

Hoping you enjoy, as always ;)

>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

Text

THE RESPONSE TO THE NEW STORY HAS BEEN STUNNING - THANK YOU

Early sips into morning’s first coffee and i’m amazed, smiling, inspired.

Cheers to everyone who’s liked, reblogged and sent messages. Easily the best feedback on a tale in the longest time. 

[New story here if you’ve yet to read it!]

Hence, there will be another story going up today. Promise :)

>Mister D x

Text

TONIGHT THE BLOG WENT OVER 2250 FOLLOWERS & THE RESPONSE TO THE NEW STORY HAS BEEN FABULOUS

Thank you everyone, I’m smiling wildly :)

[new story HERE if you’ve yet to see it!]

>Mister D. x

Photo
I’ve not played for days. It’s a game which drives her wild. Knowing I’m hard, horny, yet not touching. At the very least not pushing myself to cum. 
Some days it’s hard to resist playing over jeans, boxers, mischievous fingers in the bath with a variety of desires. Some light and playful, others with a want to squeeze, tease back my foreskin, rub back and forth enough to elicit a purr, a moan. Yet never to cum. 
Other times I’ll invite her over, and amongst conversations whisper that I’ve been saving myself, tell her how long it’s been since I came.
She remembers how it lit a fire within her the first time. We were purely friends back then, and she questioned why I’d do such a thing. I replied of how delicious the build-up is, the back and forth all week until I can take no more, flat out have to push myself. Of how intense the climax is on the other side, stealing my breath away, spunking so hard, so much over my hand, fingers, clock, clothes. The most divine mess.
She told me the thought made her wet. 
As I enquired further she told me she loved to watch men masturbate, adored playing with them. As she did I moved over to her chair and we kissed for the first time. Taking her hand I guided it to the front of my jeans, leaving it just over hers as she scratched and squeezed and played over the ridge straining underneath.
She pulled back a little and looked me in the eye, as if the gain my approval and yet, her hand was already undoing my zip, finding the buttons on my boxers, fingertips tightening around my cock as she wanked me faster and faster.
She didn’t want to slowly edge me, she wanted me hot and sticky, pulsing and writhing against her, as I came over and over against her, over my clothes, moaning in sharp stabs in time to each wave of spunk she conducted. Her kiss ravenous against my lips as the point I came, tongue fevered in my mouth as she milked me.
…
Things returned to normal with our friendship, a little closer perhaps, definitely more honest with the things we liked, that which got us off, times we’d teased and in sharing porn.
Yet today was the first time since then I told her I hadn’t played to completion. Intimated it had been even longer this time. Every day edging myself with either those soft touches, sometimes in the bath, others between the sheets, all the time thinking of her hand wanking me last time. That it had killed me not to cum.
…
She stripped me down, lay me on the edge of the bed and watched as I ached for her. Holding my gaze, she took off every stitch of clothing. Licked her lips. Knelt down before my cock.
Rather than pushing me, needing the immediate prize as she had last time, she added to all of my teasing. Deft licks, smoothing swirls, dear god the moment her lips moved over the tip. Soft breaths and anticipation had me on the brink of capitulation alone, never mind when her mouth closed around my cock and she moved
all
the
way
down.
Moments thereafter of a longer, harder suck. Those tiny licks again. Her hand upon me as she tasted the tip. Every time I buckled, she’d leave me alone. Size me up. Before lavishing the softest teases anew. Building me again. Devastatingly close, but .. left alone again
..
The point arrived when I couldn’t hold back. When my moans became the equivalent of a sob, razor sharp back and forth as I struggled to catch a breath, shivering, like crazy.
She tightened her lips around me, let them rock back and forth in constant rhythm, as if hypnotising in the moment so that she could savour what followed.
The climax was savage, cumming over and over in her mouth, she swallowed but it wasn’t enough, as I kept on spunking. A look in my eyes and she let the cum spill out of her mouth, over my balls, over the floor, before closing them again, returning to the rhythm, the moment.
My orgasm continued, as I bucked against the bed, gripped the sides, shivered and shuddered. All my previous teasing, destroyed by her own in the moment, seeing her naked, watching as she devoured every last second, nuance, drop.  

I’ve not played for days. It’s a game which drives her wild. Knowing I’m hard, horny, yet not touching. At the very least not pushing myself to cum. 

Some days it’s hard to resist playing over jeans, boxers, mischievous fingers in the bath with a variety of desires. Some light and playful, others with a want to squeeze, tease back my foreskin, rub back and forth enough to elicit a purr, a moan. Yet never to cum. 

Other times I’ll invite her over, and amongst conversations whisper that I’ve been saving myself, tell her how long it’s been since I came.

She remembers how it lit a fire within her the first time. We were purely friends back then, and she questioned why I’d do such a thing. I replied of how delicious the build-up is, the back and forth all week until I can take no more, flat out have to push myself. Of how intense the climax is on the other side, stealing my breath away, spunking so hard, so much over my hand, fingers, clock, clothes. The most divine mess.

She told me the thought made her wet. 

As I enquired further she told me she loved to watch men masturbate, adored playing with them. As she did I moved over to her chair and we kissed for the first time. Taking her hand I guided it to the front of my jeans, leaving it just over hers as she scratched and squeezed and played over the ridge straining underneath.

She pulled back a little and looked me in the eye, as if the gain my approval and yet, her hand was already undoing my zip, finding the buttons on my boxers, fingertips tightening around my cock as she wanked me faster and faster.

She didn’t want to slowly edge me, she wanted me hot and sticky, pulsing and writhing against her, as I came over and over against her, over my clothes, moaning in sharp stabs in time to each wave of spunk she conducted. Her kiss ravenous against my lips as the point I came, tongue fevered in my mouth as she milked me.

Things returned to normal with our friendship, a little closer perhaps, definitely more honest with the things we liked, that which got us off, times we’d teased and in sharing porn.

Yet today was the first time since then I told her I hadn’t played to completion. Intimated it had been even longer this time. Every day edging myself with either those soft touches, sometimes in the bath, others between the sheets, all the time thinking of her hand wanking me last time. That it had killed me not to cum.

She stripped me down, lay me on the edge of the bed and watched as I ached for her. Holding my gaze, she took off every stitch of clothing. Licked her lips. Knelt down before my cock.

Rather than pushing me, needing the immediate prize as she had last time, she added to all of my teasing. Deft licks, smoothing swirls, dear god the moment her lips moved over the tip. Soft breaths and anticipation had me on the brink of capitulation alone, never mind when her mouth closed around my cock and she moved

all

the

way

down.

Moments thereafter of a longer, harder suck. Those tiny licks again. Her hand upon me as she tasted the tip. Every time I buckled, she’d leave me alone. Size me up. Before lavishing the softest teases anew. Building me again. Devastatingly close, but .. left alone again

..

The point arrived when I couldn’t hold back. When my moans became the equivalent of a sob, razor sharp back and forth as I struggled to catch a breath, shivering, like crazy.

She tightened her lips around me, let them rock back and forth in constant rhythm, as if hypnotising in the moment so that she could savour what followed.

The climax was savage, cumming over and over in her mouth, she swallowed but it wasn’t enough, as I kept on spunking. A look in my eyes and she let the cum spill out of her mouth, over my balls, over the floor, before closing them again, returning to the rhythm, the moment.

My orgasm continued, as I bucked against the bed, gripped the sides, shivered and shuddered. All my previous teasing, destroyed by her own in the moment, seeing her naked, watching as she devoured every last second, nuance, drop.  

(via cuddles-and-lace)

Photo
I want to see how another man moves her.
The point his fingers stir to play with her as they kiss. That first forbidden touch, somehow made far naughtier by my suggesting she be teased like this.
Of being in the room watching her.
Her sigh a different spice of sinful as he caresses over her knickers, presses against them, feverishly rubbing her as if at any point a mind might change and he would be ordered to stop.
His other hand unbuttoning her blouse, smoothing inside her bra, cupping a breast, kneading it, reaching to pinch her nipple. The ensuing wash of a sigh deepened deliciously.
His fingers bidding her skirt to rise a little more, her hands eager to lift it higher to accommodate, as mischievous teases adventured under the waistband of her underwear.
Miss is hot and wanton, wet and willing.
She is all those things against another man’s touch.
…
Her hand is rubbing over his jeans.
Squeezing him.
Her mind enthused and excited by absolute fuck-lust. As to whether she should be doing any of this, of wanting to unleash trapped under clothing and truly measure the man in her hand.
As he pushes her, she wants his reaction, to see how deeply he moans, of just how much she can exploit his desires in return.
And yet …
…
Electric Instances where she looks across the room towards me.
Her eyes a blushing mixture of sorry and thank-you and a million unexplained feelings.
I tease over the ridge in my suit trousers.
Giving away nothing.
Waiting for her to unzip him, so that I might unveil myself likewise.
Mirroring the way she touches him.
Her hand tight around his cock as she watches me tease mine.
…
I wait for him to strip you down, expect feelings of jealousy as his kisses smooth across your skin, but I’m alive with seeing you this nervous, this turned on - by both the attentions of a stranger and by seeing how horny this is making me.
My expression gives little away, but you love to watch me masturbate, captivated as I push my cock - sometimes with the tiniest teases, others faster, harder, just pulling back from the brink - I can tell my sin is doing more for you than his.
How wonderfully dirty. 
As he glides inside you, your gasp is fucking divine.
He holds back nothing, smoothing in and out so his cock is coated in your sin, incrementally fucking you faster and faster.
I move towards you.
I want your attention.
The feel of your hand stroking me as I exist on the edge.
That you feel how tight my balls, reading my breathing as I purr-to-moan, on the cusp of cumming, yet wanting so much more of this.
The delicious edging of your hand, fingernails, your gorgeous eyes amplifying the desire to climax, yet ravenously increasing my hunger for more.
I don’t know which instinct will win out.
That’s what makes all of this so deviously enigmatic. 
…
Watching as he starts to cum inside you, attentions transfixed on filling your cunt with every drop of his spunk.
You lick your lips, rub me faster, want me to glaze your hand, your face your breasts.
Sucking on each of your fingertips as I ache for your lips to smooth down my shaft, clean me, milk out every last solitary drop.
Scold the stranger and send him home.
Kisses to taste my cum in your mouth, upon your lips.
My cock still hard I push inside you, feel just how hot and wet you are around my shaft.
His cum still soaked within as I fuck you.
..
Sex is dirty, filthy, lustrous.
Kisses are ravenous.
Your skin pressed against mine.
Breathing is fevered.
Moaning is loud.
I fuck you with every inch of love and lust and passion I have for you.
…
I steal your orgasm as mine.
…
I cum inside you, amongst his seed,
I feel your whispered purr against my ear as the naughty Miss writhes around my cock.
Kissing over my shoulders around my neck.
Tingle tipped fingers smoothing over my back, my arms, my ribs my hips.
…
I’m hardening again inside you.
…
But my instinct is to pull out.
Tongue deep between your legs and devour every drop of the naughty mess we’ve made.
Attentive.
Adventurous.
Your filthiest climax screaming out through each twist and taste and flick.

I want to see how another man moves her.

The point his fingers stir to play with her as they kiss. That first forbidden touch, somehow made far naughtier by my suggesting she be teased like this.

Of being in the room watching her.

Her sigh a different spice of sinful as he caresses over her knickers, presses against them, feverishly rubbing her as if at any point a mind might change and he would be ordered to stop.

His other hand unbuttoning her blouse, smoothing inside her bra, cupping a breast, kneading it, reaching to pinch her nipple. The ensuing wash of a sigh deepened deliciously.

His fingers bidding her skirt to rise a little more, her hands eager to lift it higher to accommodate, as mischievous teases adventured under the waistband of her underwear.

Miss is hot and wanton, wet and willing.

She is all those things against another man’s touch.

Her hand is rubbing over his jeans.

Squeezing him.

Her mind enthused and excited by absolute fuck-lust. As to whether she should be doing any of this, of wanting to unleash trapped under clothing and truly measure the man in her hand.

As he pushes her, she wants his reaction, to see how deeply he moans, of just how much she can exploit his desires in return.

And yet …

Electric Instances where she looks across the room towards me.

Her eyes a blushing mixture of sorry and thank-you and a million unexplained feelings.

I tease over the ridge in my suit trousers.

Giving away nothing.

Waiting for her to unzip him, so that I might unveil myself likewise.

Mirroring the way she touches him.

Her hand tight around his cock as she watches me tease mine.

I wait for him to strip you down, expect feelings of jealousy as his kisses smooth across your skin, but I’m alive with seeing you this nervous, this turned on - by both the attentions of a stranger and by seeing how horny this is making me.

My expression gives little away, but you love to watch me masturbate, captivated as I push my cock - sometimes with the tiniest teases, others faster, harder, just pulling back from the brink - I can tell my sin is doing more for you than his.

How wonderfully dirty. 

As he glides inside you, your gasp is fucking divine.

He holds back nothing, smoothing in and out so his cock is coated in your sin, incrementally fucking you faster and faster.

I move towards you.

I want your attention.

The feel of your hand stroking me as I exist on the edge.

That you feel how tight my balls, reading my breathing as I purr-to-moan, on the cusp of cumming, yet wanting so much more of this.

The delicious edging of your hand, fingernails, your gorgeous eyes amplifying the desire to climax, yet ravenously increasing my hunger for more.

I don’t know which instinct will win out.

That’s what makes all of this so deviously enigmatic. 

Watching as he starts to cum inside you, attentions transfixed on filling your cunt with every drop of his spunk.

You lick your lips, rub me faster, want me to glaze your hand, your face your breasts.

Sucking on each of your fingertips as I ache for your lips to smooth down my shaft, clean me, milk out every last solitary drop.

Scold the stranger and send him home.

Kisses to taste my cum in your mouth, upon your lips.

My cock still hard I push inside you, feel just how hot and wet you are around my shaft.

His cum still soaked within as I fuck you.

..

Sex is dirty, filthy, lustrous.

Kisses are ravenous.

Your skin pressed against mine.

Breathing is fevered.

Moaning is loud.

I fuck you with every inch of love and lust and passion I have for you.

I steal your orgasm as mine.

I cum inside you, amongst his seed,

I feel your whispered purr against my ear as the naughty Miss writhes around my cock.

Kissing over my shoulders around my neck.

Tingle tipped fingers smoothing over my back, my arms, my ribs my hips.

I’m hardening again inside you.

But my instinct is to pull out.

Tongue deep between your legs and devour every drop of the naughty mess we’ve made.

Attentive.

Adventurous.

Your filthiest climax screaming out through each twist and taste and flick.

(Source: sharingwifes, via whipherslacker)

Text

NEW STORY LATER - SHOULD ANYONE BE IN THE MOOD FOR A LITTLE EROTIC FICTION?

Do say so, if that’s the case ;)

>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

Photo
Three recent tales you may not have seen.
Click to read in full!
Firstly
…


She’d been thinking about the way we fucked last night.
Dirty, sensual, close.
Sweat pouring off the both of us, kissed by a breeze from an open window, devastating orgasms that lead to arms, to soft kisses, to further play.
As fingertips found sensitive places to swirl and play, lips became ever more lustrous, tongues darting, dancing, and the cycle began anew.

She kept decorum in the office all day, wanting to text me to share just how affected she is by the memory. Resisting for fear of truly acknowledging it. Yet fearing a return text full of curiousity and mischief, one which might set her spiralling into feeling naughtier still. 
[click to read on!]
…
Secondly 
…


I need to feel your lips around me.
Pursed and pushing down the length of my cock.
A lustrous mission to mind my dirtiest sigh and claim it.
Over and over and over.
[click to read on]
…
And the final new story
…


Friends for so long, she yearned to feel another cock in her hand.
Writhing within each wave of her fingertips around it, thumb turning, smoothing over the sticky tip.
A tear of sin all of her own, to spread, to lick, to play with however she pleased.
Deliciously eliciting deft, deep purrs as she stroked him - sometimes softly, caressing shivers down his shaft with naer a touch, in other moments tightening her fist hard around his ache, feeling him throb, harden further.
[click to read on]
…
All likes, reblogs and messages very much appreciated, with any correspondence kept strictly confidential, even though ‘anon’ is ‘off’.
If you enjoy the tales, please celebrate them in one of the above ways. They seem to be getting less and less attention, so all are very much appreciated - and mean I write more stories!
…
Hoping you enjoy, as always.
>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

Three recent tales you may not have seen.

Click to read in full!

Firstly

She’d been thinking about the way we fucked last night.
Dirty, sensual, close.
Sweat pouring off the both of us, kissed by a breeze from an open window, devastating orgasms that lead to arms, to soft kisses, to further play.
As fingertips found sensitive places to swirl and play, lips became ever more lustrous, tongues darting, dancing, and the cycle began anew.
She kept decorum in the office all day, wanting to text me to share just how affected she is by the memory. Resisting for fear of truly acknowledging it. Yet fearing a return text full of curiousity and mischief, one which might set her spiralling into feeling naughtier still.
Under her dress her thighs were tightly pressed, a subtle subconscious edging as skin pushed cotton over and around her sex. Clit softly teased by her knickers, acknowledging being devastatingly wet.
My text instigated her downfall, stating how hard I was thinking about us fucking. That I struggled to leave my desk without a jacket for fear of alerting others to how I ached to play with her.
I arrived at her work close to lunchtime with a scowl on my face, asked to for her, requested for a meeting room. For all intents and purposes they thought we were having problems, that something must have happened that we needed to talk through.
Her shock at seeing me there vaulted into poker face, seeing if the meeting room was okay, then following me inside. Along the row other folks in the office met their clients, talked business.
I sat her down, lifted her skirt and spread her thighs. Saw just how damp her panties had become, brushed a single, soft lick over them. Sighed deeply over the material, the cotton conducting the heat of my exhale, washing, burning over her pussy.
We didn’t have long, I knew that, and I so yearned to eat her out. Yet still I couldn’t resist plunging my tongue deep into her cunt, turning it, turning it - one way, then the next - she biting her lip and trying not to moan.
Seeing this I couldn’t not move my lips to her clit,tease and turn and push her, whip her with my tongue, fingers inching inside her, slowly at first, then finger fucking her.
Her eyes said the situation was becoming desperate. Voices moved beyond the door, the blinds, a debate erupting in another of the meeting rooms. I wanted to push her over the edge, but devour every remaining shiver as my own. 
I pulled up a chair, sat next to her and we kissed. My fingers found her pussy and turned, pushed, played .. so very softly .. leading her so slowly towards climax. 
As she got closer she undid my tie, eyes in absolute contact with me, unbuttoned my shirt a little, leaving my neck-to-shoulder exposed.
As she started to cum she bit down deep, me forcing back the pain as she tried to shush the orgasm. My shoulder fucking hurt, her teeth skewering hard into my flesh, but that pushed me on to rub her faster, make her orgasm more, see if she could struggle to keep quiet as I.
Massively turned on, I couldn’t help but rub myself over my suit trousers throughout, until her hand replaced it, and exchanged my teases for hers.
Breathless she unzipped me, kneeled on the floor, took me in hand, in mouth and pushed me. I’d been on the cusp of play all day, as she pulled down my boxers I saw how sticky I’d been against them. She rubbed me, licked me, sucked me .. fuck ..
Then threw me a look. Opened her mouth. Closed her eyes.
My hand eager upon my cock to push myself, I wanted to cum, so fucking much, all over her face, pull down her dress and glaze her breasts. Yet as obedient and poised as she was, kneeling, expectant, I must be too - and as I started to cum I thrust my cock towards her mouth. Pretty Miss drew out every ounce of my cum as her lips closed around it, waiting for every pulse emitted by will alone, before teasing every last drop with hand, with tongue.
Shivering, we composed ourselves. Time was our enemy now. Naer a glance between us - such electricity would be way too dangerous. Until I moved towards her, leaned into her ear, paused, before whispering a single filthy sentence. 
…
“Just wait until I get you home”

She kept decorum in the office all day, wanting to text me to share just how affected she is by the memory. Resisting for fear of truly acknowledging it. Yet fearing a return text full of curiousity and mischief, one which might set her spiralling into feeling naughtier still. 

[click to read on!]

Secondly 

I need to feel your lips around me. 
Pursed and pushing down the length of my cock.
A lustrous mission to mind my dirtiest sigh and claim it. 
Over and over and over.
…
Your fingertips a wash of angel kisses as I harden before you.
Mischievous caresses over my balls.
Devouring my eyes-closed shivers.
Each devilish fingertip of yours a world of curious swirls over the tip of my cock.
I am blushing and sticky at the sin you’re inspiring.
…
Lick at it.
Close your mouth over me.
Taste. 
…
Tighten your fist and feel me throb within. 
Squeeze as hard as you may and hear my breathless exclamation move to purr, to moan, to savage, primal, deeper. 
Let your mind leap to my eventual broken cry, and muse over watching me cum against you.
All over you. 
Fierce spasms against your control.
Warm and flowing all over your hand.
Trickling, tickling down your wrist.
…
Kiss the mess you’ve made.
 Flourish my breakdown and tease me faster and faster.
Keep me on the edge and throw me your naughtiest gaze. 
Existing there.
Yearning to cum so fucking hard.
…
Lift your skirt and play for me. 
Spread your legs so I might see the effect this has on your knickers. 
The cotton wet.
Your sin exposed. 
Feel me twitch against your grip as I think of tonguing you over them.
…
Watching on as you flourish touches higher and higher up your thighs, then over your panties. 
Hearing that first delicious sigh in the immediate hardens me further.
More so still knowing how long you’ve wanted to play.
So lost in feeling me.
Pushing me.
Breaking me.
…
I exist delicately on this amplified cusp of climax purely to watch you rub yourself.
Edge the material inside your cunt just a little.
Feel the tease over your clit. 
As you get carried away it’s all you can do to keep me gripped.
Occasionally opening your eyes to shiver from the electricity shared in our gaze.
To size me up.
To rub yourself faster.
Igniting to climax against within such divine torment.
…
Feeling you purr, sigh and moan against my cock make me cum so fucking hard. 
Such content in your voice as you delight in feeling me throb within your grasp.
Each wave of shivers matched each time to a cry. 
You breathe over my cock, lick and kiss it, my cum squirting in your mouth.
Glazed upon your lips.
Running blissfully down your wrist.

I need to feel your lips around me.

Pursed and pushing down the length of my cock.

A lustrous mission to mind my dirtiest sigh and claim it.

Over and over and over.

[click to read on]

And the final new story

Friends for so long, she yearned to feel another cock in her hand.
Writhing within each wave of her fingertips around it, thumb turning, smoothing over the sticky tip.
A tear of sin all of her own, to spread, to lick, to play with however she pleased.
Deliciously eliciting deft, deep purrs as she stroked him - sometimes softly, caressing shivers down his shaft with naer a touch, in other moments tightening her fist hard around his ache, feeling him throb, harden further.
…
Such divine distraction that his mind was equally attentive. Fingertips playful over the hood of her clit, brushing over it, teasing along and around, the electric shock of his course skin moving over the tip.
Instances where he sought lubrication for his game. Sometimes the very tip of finger edging gently between her lips, turning around and around - first one way, then the next - before returning to the game enacting upon her clit.
Other times when one finger, often two would inch up inside her - all the way inside her - turning long digits around and around - before finger-fucking her faster and hard and deep. She squeezed hard at the cock in her hand as his fingers glided against her g-spot, thinking of the girth, the extra push, the savagery of his fuck.
His breath upon her neck, words of sin - the deepest filth - breathless in her ear. Bites along her shoulders, hands ravenous around her breasts, slight pinching upon her nipples.
…
The thought of him pushing all the way inside. Stealing his eyes, watching him cry out. Wave after wave of his sex deep inside her as she tightened her cunt muscles and giggled with delight.
Of him barely able to pull out before she wrapped her hand around his cock and milked him faster and faster, all over her breasts. Catching eager first tastes and sucking all over him down. His scream in time with each orgasmic rhythm upon her tongue, as she licked, bewitched and tantalised.
…
Yet he pulled away, pushed the tip of his cock against her clit, started to wank faster and faster. She felt every vibration upon her clit, every shimmer from touch, the moment, the sheer fucking look in his eyes seizing her.
His cry wild and savage, as h#e came so hard, so fucking intensely against her clit. His cum warm and sinful against her, she closed her eyes and purred. 
The moment soon amplified by his tongue smoothing his spunk all over her clit, tonguing it deep inside her cunt. Lips pulsing as he took her clit between them, fingertips easing between her cum covered lips.
…
He wanted her climax, begged that she tease her breasts, her nipples. She was fixed on the man calling forth such shivers within each filthy machination. Wrapping her legs tight around his head as she came again and again and again.
…
His kiss soon followed, the taste of cock, of pussy upon each breathless press of lips, scintillating and dirty each his tongue danced with her own. His fingers brushing softly upon the tops of her thighs, 
Her mind moved to wanting, and reached for his cock. To feel him hardening against her touch. She wanted to play and be played with. She yearned to be fucked. But within such spontaneity, this devastating spiral, possessed by the temptation of seeing just how things play out.

Friends for so long, she yearned to feel another cock in her hand.

Writhing within each wave of her fingertips around it, thumb turning, smoothing over the sticky tip.

A tear of sin all of her own, to spread, to lick, to play with however she pleased.

Deliciously eliciting deft, deep purrs as she stroked him - sometimes softly, caressing shivers down his shaft with naer a touch, in other moments tightening her fist hard around his ache, feeling him throb, harden further.

[click to read on]

All likes, reblogs and messages very much appreciated, with any correspondence kept strictly confidential, even though ‘anon’ is ‘off’.

If you enjoy the tales, please celebrate them in one of the above ways. They seem to be getting less and less attention, so all are very much appreciated - and mean I write more stories!

Hoping you enjoy, as always.

>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

Photo
She’d been thinking about the way we fucked last night.
Dirty, sensual, close.
Sweat pouring off the both of us, kissed by a breeze from an open window, devastating orgasms that lead to arms, to soft kisses, to further play.
As fingertips found sensitive places to swirl and play, lips became ever more lustrous, tongues darting, dancing, and the cycle began anew.
She kept decorum in the office all day, wanting to text me to share just how affected she is by the memory. Resisting for fear of truly acknowledging it. Yet fearing a return text full of curiousity and mischief, one which might set her spiralling into feeling naughtier still.
Under her dress her thighs were tightly pressed, a subtle subconscious edging as skin pushed cotton over and around her sex. Clit softly teased by her knickers, acknowledging being devastatingly wet.
My text instigated her downfall, stating how hard I was thinking about us fucking. That I struggled to leave my desk without a jacket for fear of alerting others to how I ached to play with her.
I arrived at her work close to lunchtime with a scowl on my face, asked to for her, requested for a meeting room. For all intents and purposes they thought we were having problems, that something must have happened that we needed to talk through.
Her shock at seeing me there vaulted into poker face, seeing if the meeting room was okay, then following me inside. Along the row other folks in the office met their clients, talked business.
I sat her down, lifted her skirt and spread her thighs. Saw just how damp her panties had become, brushed a single, soft lick over them. Sighed deeply over the material, the cotton conducting the heat of my exhale, washing, burning over her pussy.
We didn’t have long, I knew that, and I so yearned to eat her out. Yet still I couldn’t resist plunging my tongue deep into her cunt, turning it, turning it - one way, then the next - she biting her lip and trying not to moan.
Seeing this I couldn’t not move my lips to her clit,tease and turn and push her, whip her with my tongue, fingers inching inside her, slowly at first, then finger fucking her.
Her eyes said the situation was becoming desperate. Voices moved beyond the door, the blinds, a debate erupting in another of the meeting rooms. I wanted to push her over the edge, but devour every remaining shiver as my own. 
I pulled up a chair, sat next to her and we kissed. My fingers found her pussy and turned, pushed, played .. so very softly .. leading her so slowly towards climax. 
As she got closer she undid my tie, eyes in absolute contact with me, unbuttoned my shirt a little, leaving my neck-to-shoulder exposed.
As she started to cum she bit down deep, me forcing back the pain as she tried to shush the orgasm. My shoulder fucking hurt, her teeth skewering hard into my flesh, but that pushed me on to rub her faster, make her orgasm more, see if she could struggle to keep quiet as I.
Massively turned on, I couldn’t help but rub myself over my suit trousers throughout, until her hand replaced it, and exchanged my teases for hers.
Breathless she unzipped me, kneeled on the floor, took me in hand, in mouth and pushed me. I’d been on the cusp of play all day, as she pulled down my boxers I saw how sticky I’d been against them. She rubbed me, licked me, sucked me .. fuck ..
Then threw me a look. Opened her mouth. Closed her eyes.
My hand eager upon my cock to push myself, I wanted to cum, so fucking much, all over her face, pull down her dress and glaze her breasts. Yet as obedient and poised as she was, kneeling, expectant, I must be too - and as I started to cum I thrust my cock towards her mouth. Pretty Miss drew out every ounce of my cum as her lips closed around it, waiting for every pulse emitted by will alone, before teasing every last drop with hand, with tongue.
Shivering, we composed ourselves. Time was our enemy now. Naer a glance between us - such electricity would be way too dangerous. Until I moved towards her, leaned into her ear, paused, before whispering a single filthy sentence. 
…
“Just wait until I get you home”

She’d been thinking about the way we fucked last night.

Dirty, sensual, close.

Sweat pouring off the both of us, kissed by a breeze from an open window, devastating orgasms that lead to arms, to soft kisses, to further play.

As fingertips found sensitive places to swirl and play, lips became ever more lustrous, tongues darting, dancing, and the cycle began anew.

She kept decorum in the office all day, wanting to text me to share just how affected she is by the memory. Resisting for fear of truly acknowledging it. Yet fearing a return text full of curiousity and mischief, one which might set her spiralling into feeling naughtier still.

Under her dress her thighs were tightly pressed, a subtle subconscious edging as skin pushed cotton over and around her sex. Clit softly teased by her knickers, acknowledging being devastatingly wet.

My text instigated her downfall, stating how hard I was thinking about us fucking. That I struggled to leave my desk without a jacket for fear of alerting others to how I ached to play with her.

I arrived at her work close to lunchtime with a scowl on my face, asked to for her, requested for a meeting room. For all intents and purposes they thought we were having problems, that something must have happened that we needed to talk through.

Her shock at seeing me there vaulted into poker face, seeing if the meeting room was okay, then following me inside. Along the row other folks in the office met their clients, talked business.

I sat her down, lifted her skirt and spread her thighs. Saw just how damp her panties had become, brushed a single, soft lick over them. Sighed deeply over the material, the cotton conducting the heat of my exhale, washing, burning over her pussy.

We didn’t have long, I knew that, and I so yearned to eat her out. Yet still I couldn’t resist plunging my tongue deep into her cunt, turning it, turning it - one way, then the next - she biting her lip and trying not to moan.

Seeing this I couldn’t not move my lips to her clit,tease and turn and push her, whip her with my tongue, fingers inching inside her, slowly at first, then finger fucking her.

Her eyes said the situation was becoming desperate. Voices moved beyond the door, the blinds, a debate erupting in another of the meeting rooms. I wanted to push her over the edge, but devour every remaining shiver as my own. 

I pulled up a chair, sat next to her and we kissed. My fingers found her pussy and turned, pushed, played .. so very softly .. leading her so slowly towards climax. 

As she got closer she undid my tie, eyes in absolute contact with me, unbuttoned my shirt a little, leaving my neck-to-shoulder exposed.

As she started to cum she bit down deep, me forcing back the pain as she tried to shush the orgasm. My shoulder fucking hurt, her teeth skewering hard into my flesh, but that pushed me on to rub her faster, make her orgasm more, see if she could struggle to keep quiet as I.

Massively turned on, I couldn’t help but rub myself over my suit trousers throughout, until her hand replaced it, and exchanged my teases for hers.

Breathless she unzipped me, kneeled on the floor, took me in hand, in mouth and pushed me. I’d been on the cusp of play all day, as she pulled down my boxers I saw how sticky I’d been against them. She rubbed me, licked me, sucked me .. fuck ..

Then threw me a look. Opened her mouth. Closed her eyes.

My hand eager upon my cock to push myself, I wanted to cum, so fucking much, all over her face, pull down her dress and glaze her breasts. Yet as obedient and poised as she was, kneeling, expectant, I must be too - and as I started to cum I thrust my cock towards her mouth. Pretty Miss drew out every ounce of my cum as her lips closed around it, waiting for every pulse emitted by will alone, before teasing every last drop with hand, with tongue.

Shivering, we composed ourselves. Time was our enemy now. Naer a glance between us - such electricity would be way too dangerous. Until I moved towards her, leaned into her ear, paused, before whispering a single filthy sentence. 

Just wait until I get you home

(Source: oxytocininjection, via goodgirlturningbad)

Photo
I need to feel your lips around me. 
Pursed and pushing down the length of my cock.
A lustrous mission to mind my dirtiest sigh and claim it. 
Over and over and over.
…
Your fingertips a wash of angel kisses as I harden before you.
Mischievous caresses over my balls.
Devouring my eyes-closed shivers.
Each devilish fingertip of yours a world of curious swirls over the tip of my cock.
I am blushing and sticky at the sin you’re inspiring.
…
Lick at it.
Close your mouth over me.
Taste. 
…
Tighten your fist and feel me throb within. 
Squeeze as hard as you may and hear my breathless exclamation move to purr, to moan, to savage, primal, deeper. 
Let your mind leap to my eventual broken cry, and muse over watching me cum against you.
All over you. 
Fierce spasms against your control.
Warm and flowing all over your hand.
Trickling, tickling down your wrist.
…
Kiss the mess you’ve made.
 Flourish my breakdown and tease me faster and faster.
Keep me on the edge and throw me your naughtiest gaze. 
Existing there.
Yearning to cum so fucking hard.
…
Lift your skirt and play for me. 
Spread your legs so I might see the effect this has on your knickers. 
The cotton wet.
Your sin exposed. 
Feel me twitch against your grip as I think of tonguing you over them.
…
Watching on as you flourish touches higher and higher up your thighs, then over your panties. 
Hearing that first delicious sigh in the immediate hardens me further.
More so still knowing how long you’ve wanted to play.
So lost in feeling me.
Pushing me.
Breaking me.
…
I exist delicately on this amplified cusp of climax purely to watch you rub yourself.
Edge the material inside your cunt just a little.
Feel the tease over your clit. 
As you get carried away it’s all you can do to keep me gripped.
Occasionally opening your eyes to shiver from the electricity shared in our gaze.
To size me up.
To rub yourself faster.
Igniting to climax against within such divine torment.
…
Feeling you purr, sigh and moan against my cock make me cum so fucking hard. 
Such content in your voice as you delight in feeling me throb within your grasp.
Each wave of shivers matched each time to a cry. 
You breathe over my cock, lick and kiss it, my cum squirting in your mouth.
Glazed upon your lips.
Running blissfully down your wrist.

I need to feel your lips around me.

Pursed and pushing down the length of my cock.

A lustrous mission to mind my dirtiest sigh and claim it.

Over and over and over.

Your fingertips a wash of angel kisses as I harden before you.

Mischievous caresses over my balls.

Devouring my eyes-closed shivers.

Each devilish fingertip of yours a world of curious swirls over the tip of my cock.

I am blushing and sticky at the sin you’re inspiring.

Lick at it.

Close your mouth over me.

Taste

Tighten your fist and feel me throb within.

Squeeze as hard as you may and hear my breathless exclamation move to purr, to moan, to savage, primal, deeper.

Let your mind leap to my eventual broken cry, and muse over watching me cum against you.

All over you.

Fierce spasms against your control.

Warm and flowing all over your hand.

Trickling, tickling down your wrist.

Kiss the mess you’ve made.

Flourish my breakdown and tease me faster and faster.

Keep me on the edge and throw me your naughtiest gaze.

Existing there.

Yearning to cum so fucking hard.

Lift your skirt and play for me.

Spread your legs so I might see the effect this has on your knickers.

The cotton wet.

Your sin exposed.

Feel me twitch against your grip as I think of tonguing you over them.

Watching on as you flourish touches higher and higher up your thighs, then over your panties.

Hearing that first delicious sigh in the immediate hardens me further.

More so still knowing how long you’ve wanted to play.

So lost in feeling me.

Pushing me.

Breaking me.

I exist delicately on this amplified cusp of climax purely to watch you rub yourself.

Edge the material inside your cunt just a little.

Feel the tease over your clit.

As you get carried away it’s all you can do to keep me gripped.

Occasionally opening your eyes to shiver from the electricity shared in our gaze.

To size me up.

To rub yourself faster.

Igniting to climax against within such divine torment.

Feeling you purr, sigh and moan against my cock make me cum so fucking hard.

Such content in your voice as you delight in feeling me throb within your grasp.

Each wave of shivers matched each time to a cry.

You breathe over my cock, lick and kiss it, my cum squirting in your mouth.

Glazed upon your lips.

Running blissfully down your wrist.

(Source: edsky678, via callmepetandfuckme)

Photo
Friends for so long, she yearned to feel another cock in her hand.
Writhing within each wave of her fingertips around it, thumb turning, smoothing over the sticky tip.
A tear of sin all of her own, to spread, to lick, to play with however she pleased.
Deliciously eliciting deft, deep purrs as she stroked him - sometimes softly, caressing shivers down his shaft with naer a touch, in other moments tightening her fist hard around his ache, feeling him throb, harden further.
…
Such divine distraction that his mind was equally attentive. Fingertips playful over the hood of her clit, brushing over it, teasing along and around, the electric shock of his course skin moving over the tip.
Instances where he sought lubrication for his game. Sometimes the very tip of finger edging gently between her lips, turning around and around - first one way, then the next - before returning to the game enacting upon her clit.
Other times when one finger, often two would inch up inside her - all the way inside her - turning long digits around and around - before finger-fucking her faster and hard and deep. She squeezed hard at the cock in her hand as his fingers glided against her g-spot, thinking of the girth, the extra push, the savagery of his fuck.
His breath upon her neck, words of sin - the deepest filth - breathless in her ear. Bites along her shoulders, hands ravenous around her breasts, slight pinching upon her nipples.
…
The thought of him pushing all the way inside. Stealing his eyes, watching him cry out. Wave after wave of his sex deep inside her as she tightened her cunt muscles and giggled with delight.
Of him barely able to pull out before she wrapped her hand around his cock and milked him faster and faster, all over her breasts. Catching eager first tastes and sucking all over him down. His scream in time with each orgasmic rhythm upon her tongue, as she licked, bewitched and tantalised.
…
Yet he pulled away, pushed the tip of his cock against her clit, started to wank faster and faster. She felt every vibration upon her clit, every shimmer from touch, the moment, the sheer fucking look in his eyes seizing her.
His cry wild and savage, as h#e came so hard, so fucking intensely against her clit. His cum warm and sinful against her, she closed her eyes and purred. 
The moment soon amplified by his tongue smoothing his spunk all over her clit, tonguing it deep inside her cunt. Lips pulsing as he took her clit between them, fingertips easing between her cum covered lips.
…
He wanted her climax, begged that she tease her breasts, her nipples. She was fixed on the man calling forth such shivers within each filthy machination. Wrapping her legs tight around his head as she came again and again and again.
…
His kiss soon followed, the taste of cock, of pussy upon each breathless press of lips, scintillating and dirty each his tongue danced with her own. His fingers brushing softly upon the tops of her thighs, 
Her mind moved to wanting, and reached for his cock. To feel him hardening against her touch. She wanted to play and be played with. She yearned to be fucked. But within such spontaneity, this devastating spiral, possessed by the temptation of seeing just how things play out.

Friends for so long, she yearned to feel another cock in her hand.

Writhing within each wave of her fingertips around it, thumb turning, smoothing over the sticky tip.

A tear of sin all of her own, to spread, to lick, to play with however she pleased.

Deliciously eliciting deft, deep purrs as she stroked him - sometimes softly, caressing shivers down his shaft with naer a touch, in other moments tightening her fist hard around his ache, feeling him throb, harden further.

Such divine distraction that his mind was equally attentive. Fingertips playful over the hood of her clit, brushing over it, teasing along and around, the electric shock of his course skin moving over the tip.

Instances where he sought lubrication for his game. Sometimes the very tip of finger edging gently between her lips, turning around and around - first one way, then the next - before returning to the game enacting upon her clit.

Other times when one finger, often two would inch up inside her - all the way inside her - turning long digits around and around - before finger-fucking her faster and hard and deep. She squeezed hard at the cock in her hand as his fingers glided against her g-spot, thinking of the girth, the extra push, the savagery of his fuck.

His breath upon her neck, words of sin - the deepest filth - breathless in her ear. Bites along her shoulders, hands ravenous around her breasts, slight pinching upon her nipples.

The thought of him pushing all the way inside. Stealing his eyes, watching him cry out. Wave after wave of his sex deep inside her as she tightened her cunt muscles and giggled with delight.

Of him barely able to pull out before she wrapped her hand around his cock and milked him faster and faster, all over her breasts. Catching eager first tastes and sucking all over him down. His scream in time with each orgasmic rhythm upon her tongue, as she licked, bewitched and tantalised.

Yet he pulled away, pushed the tip of his cock against her clit, started to wank faster and faster. She felt every vibration upon her clit, every shimmer from touch, the moment, the sheer fucking look in his eyes seizing her.

His cry wild and savage, as h#e came so hard, so fucking intensely against her clit. His cum warm and sinful against her, she closed her eyes and purred. 

The moment soon amplified by his tongue smoothing his spunk all over her clit, tonguing it deep inside her cunt. Lips pulsing as he took her clit between them, fingertips easing between her cum covered lips.

He wanted her climax, begged that she tease her breasts, her nipples. She was fixed on the man calling forth such shivers within each filthy machination. Wrapping her legs tight around his head as she came again and again and again.

His kiss soon followed, the taste of cock, of pussy upon each breathless press of lips, scintillating and dirty each his tongue danced with her own. His fingers brushing softly upon the tops of her thighs,

Her mind moved to wanting, and reached for his cock. To feel him hardening against her touch. She wanted to play and be played with. She yearned to be fucked. But within such spontaneity, this devastating spiral, possessed by the temptation of seeing just how things play out.

(Source: gangbangang, via goodoldfashionedwriterboy)