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)

Photo
Curious to know whether folks are enjoying the stories, and if there’s anything in particular which has hit the spot.
'Anon' is set to 'off', but all messages will be strictly confidential.
Potentially a new tale to go up today as well!
>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x
[English Filth For Sinful Sorts]

Curious to know whether folks are enjoying the stories, and if there’s anything in particular which has hit the spot.

'Anon' is set to 'off', but all messages will be strictly confidential.

Potentially a new tale to go up today as well!

>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

[English Filth For Sinful Sorts]

(via exec2sec)

Photo
He maintained that she didn’t deserve his cock. It wound her tightly. Infuriated her. Made her incredibly wet. 
She played copiously at home wondering how his throbbing shaft  would feel, slowly inching further and further - all the way up inside her. She’d tried to feel, to squeeze over it with her hand when they kissed, but he frustratingly pushed her grasping fingers away. Threw her the naughtiest gaze - one of smiles, and NO and some kind of game.
Yet she’d briefly had the measure of him and wanted more, but herein lay a level of control, one which inspired the most delicious ache for him. His mind. His sex. All of it. 
 Men were usually far easier than this. Having to try and get inside the desires and machinations of this one drove her wild. 
…
His fingers had played at the tops of her thighs - In jeans initially - the next meeting encouraging a skirt so that she might feel his palm smooth higher, his fingertips play over her sodden secret.
But although his hands tantalisingly teased under the skirt, such mischievousness never quite found its way to the top. Provoking filthy expectations as sensations, manipulations nudged ever higher and higher, smoothing with tiny circles of fingertips, fingernails, but .. never over her knickers. 
The more such tactility was withheld, the more she yearned for it. Imagining him pressing tentative affections over the cotton, pushing it a little way inside, the tickling push of material over aching clit, teasing her panties inside as far as he could, restrained their boundaries, yet manipulating each wonderfully.
…
When such imaginations struck, fevered masturbation soon followed, as she imagined her underwear pulled to one side, his lustrous fingerfuck, of the man dropping to his knees, parting her lips and plunging a mischievous tongue inside. Lips moving in devious sync with cursive licks. She wanted to cum for him, against him, around him. 
Sweet Lord the thought of sucking him, taking all of him into her mouth. The expression and cry she might incite as he utterly ignites and cums all over her. His hot sweet mess all over her face, washed over her breasts. 
…
Such situations amassed to the point where Miss became blatant, brave, shameless. 
Visiting his hotel room while he was on a business trip. Lifting her skirt, spreading her legs, and showing him just how wet she was. Holding his gaze and rubbing over her knickers, exploiting each previously closeted thought and playing feverishly, just holding back from cumming, watching him. 
His hand moved to his trousers. She noticed the ridge therein and pushed a finger under the waist of her knickers. Rubbing faster as she watched him squeeze over the material. Struggling to stop, but .. just managing to. Eyeing the cock restrained by clothing, an ache in her cunt thinking of all of it inside her. His expression was electricity, pure intrigue. Is this what he’d wished to inspire all along?
She stood up and undressed in front of him. Ignoring him. Picking away each button of her blouse. The zip of the side of her skirt emitting a sensual growl as each tooth gasped and fell away. 
As she returned her gaze to him, his eyes were all over her. His hand squeezing over his trousers, touching and scratching over the ridge. 
“Unzip them,” she said. He did what he was told. Without asking popped the buttons on his boxers. Took his cock in hand. 
“Play for me”
She watched him masturbate, rubbing herself over her knickers a little, owning his eyes. All the thoughts she’d had whilst playing in bed returning, each wet upon her fingers. 
She eased out of her bra, took down her knickers. Sat on the edge of the bed, him in the chair opposite, and fingerfucked herself as she scrutinised him. So much unspoken, so much tension and build up, she had to keep pulling back to restrain a climax. Each new tease ever more electric than the last.  Yet he was pushing himself faster and faster, holding back when she did. She wondered if he’d played and mused upon this moment in similar ways. As to whether his shivers had similar foundations.
He stood up this time. Spoke to her, dominant, yet deliciously flustrered with frustration and desire.
“Kneel on the bed. All fours. Hands on the headboard.”
She did as she was told. Longing for his cock. To feel all of him inside her.
He put the very tip inside her. She waited for the push as he moved all the way inside. 
“I’m not sure you deserve all of me, Miss,” he said, playfully, and started to masturbate. She reached to tease herself, but he breathlessly exclaimed, “No .. not yet”
She felt the movement of his hand tight around his cock touching her lips. The ever so slight back-and-forth of the tip of his cock inside her. Before he cried out .. cumming in wave upon wave inside her.
She was lost in a place of excitement, yet restraint, of wanting more - more than she’d ever wanted to be fucked in her life - but existing within the enigma of the man, the moment, such a delicious spiral. 
…
He pulled back, turned her around on the bed and kissed her. A long, slow lingering kiss, one of passion, affection. As their eyes opened and connected again, there was a spark - one of deeper than before, yet .. more mischief. 
Spreading her legs, he moved back to the chair.
“Fingerfuck yourself. 
All my spunk inside you. 
Fingerfuck yourself. 
Please. 
I want to watch you cum”
…
Her fingers moved between her legs, his sticky sin running out over the covers, around her touch - which she smoothed around her lips, over her clit. Looking over, he was transfixed. Hardening. As his fingertips began touching over his cock, his balls, as his gaze found hers again, she started to play. To really push herself. 
Two fingers inside her, the other hand fevered over her clit. This was for her as much as him, she wanted it, needed it. Realising just how much she had been teetering on the cusp. Close without knowing it, the ferocity of her push stealing his gasp, making him play equally as fast.
As she moved to cry out, absolutely on the edge of climax, she felt hands upon her own, pushing them away. Thinking this was a new game, that he was stopping her at this point, she .. felt his tongue pushing deep into her her, fingertips replacing hers upon her clit.
Keeling before her he tongued, licked and tasted hungrily as her cunt, eating out his own spunk, while smoothing it, spreading it, washing it atop her clit in moments where fingers and tongue swapped.
As her eyes opened, the sight was too much - shivers, shaking rising, building to the most astonishing release-to-cry - cumming over and over and over, each new shattering wave throwing her so far beyond her comfort zone, yet into dangerous, scary, exciting realms of pleasure. 
Purring with pleasure, she felt something nudging at her mouth. Instantly opening her lips she soon felt all of his length within, twisting and teasing her tongue over it - tasting their mutual sin - her hand gripping around his shaft, pushing him.
She wasn’t the only one upon such a cusp, as she added swallowed him down, devouring each new pulse between her fingers, every new drop swallowed down her throat.

He maintained that she didn’t deserve his cock. It wound her tightly. Infuriated her. Made her incredibly wet. 

She played copiously at home wondering how his throbbing shaft  would feel, slowly inching further and further - all the way up inside her. She’d tried to feel, to squeeze over it with her hand when they kissed, but he frustratingly pushed her grasping fingers away. Threw her the naughtiest gaze - one of smiles, and NO and some kind of game.

Yet she’d briefly had the measure of him and wanted more, but herein lay a level of control, one which inspired the most delicious ache for him. His mind. His sex. All of it. 

Men were usually far easier than this. Having to try and get inside the desires and machinations of this one drove her wild. 

His fingers had played at the tops of her thighs - In jeans initially - the next meeting encouraging a skirt so that she might feel his palm smooth higher, his fingertips play over her sodden secret.

But although his hands tantalisingly teased under the skirt, such mischievousness never quite found its way to the top. Provoking filthy expectations as sensations, manipulations nudged ever higher and higher, smoothing with tiny circles of fingertips, fingernails, but .. never over her knickers.

The more such tactility was withheld, the more she yearned for it. Imagining him pressing tentative affections over the cotton, pushing it a little way inside, the tickling push of material over aching clit, teasing her panties inside as far as he could, restrained their boundaries, yet manipulating each wonderfully.

When such imaginations struck, fevered masturbation soon followed, as she imagined her underwear pulled to one side, his lustrous fingerfuck, of the man dropping to his knees, parting her lips and plunging a mischievous tongue inside. Lips moving in devious sync with cursive licks. She wanted to cum for him, against him, around him. 

Sweet Lord the thought of sucking him, taking all of him into her mouth. The expression and cry she might incite as he utterly ignites and cums all over her. His hot sweet mess all over her face, washed over her breasts. 

Such situations amassed to the point where Miss became blatant, brave, shameless. 

Visiting his hotel room while he was on a business trip. Lifting her skirt, spreading her legs, and showing him just how wet she was. Holding his gaze and rubbing over her knickers, exploiting each previously closeted thought and playing feverishly, just holding back from cumming, watching him

His hand moved to his trousers. She noticed the ridge therein and pushed a finger under the waist of her knickers. Rubbing faster as she watched him squeeze over the material. Struggling to stop, but .. just managing to. Eyeing the cock restrained by clothing, an ache in her cunt thinking of all of it inside her. His expression was electricity, pure intrigue. Is this what he’d wished to inspire all along?

She stood up and undressed in front of him. Ignoring him. Picking away each button of her blouse. The zip of the side of her skirt emitting a sensual growl as each tooth gasped and fell away. 

As she returned her gaze to him, his eyes were all over her. His hand squeezing over his trousers, touching and scratching over the ridge. 

Unzip them,” she said. He did what he was told. Without asking popped the buttons on his boxers. Took his cock in hand. 

Play for me

She watched him masturbate, rubbing herself over her knickers a little, owning his eyes. All the thoughts she’d had whilst playing in bed returning, each wet upon her fingers.

She eased out of her bra, took down her knickers. Sat on the edge of the bed, him in the chair opposite, and fingerfucked herself as she scrutinised him. So much unspoken, so much tension and build up, she had to keep pulling back to restrain a climax. Each new tease ever more electric than the last.  Yet he was pushing himself faster and faster, holding back when she did. She wondered if he’d played and mused upon this moment in similar ways. As to whether his shivers had similar foundations.

He stood up this time. Spoke to her, dominant, yet deliciously flustrered with frustration and desire.

Kneel on the bed. All fours. Hands on the headboard.”

She did as she was told. Longing for his cock. To feel all of him inside her.

He put the very tip inside her. She waited for the push as he moved all the way inside. 

I’m not sure you deserve all of me, Miss,” he said, playfully, and started to masturbate. She reached to tease herself, but he breathlessly exclaimed, “No .. not yet”

She felt the movement of his hand tight around his cock touching her lips. The ever so slight back-and-forth of the tip of his cock inside her. Before he cried out .. cumming in wave upon wave inside her.

She was lost in a place of excitement, yet restraint, of wanting more - more than she’d ever wanted to be fucked in her life - but existing within the enigma of the man, the moment, such a delicious spiral.

He pulled back, turned her around on the bed and kissed her. A long, slow lingering kiss, one of passion, affection. As their eyes opened and connected again, there was a spark - one of deeper than before, yet .. more mischief.

Spreading her legs, he moved back to the chair.

Fingerfuck yourself.

All my spunk inside you.

Fingerfuck yourself.

Please.

I want to watch you cum

Her fingers moved between her legs, his sticky sin running out over the covers, around her touch - which she smoothed around her lips, over her clit. Looking over, he was transfixed. Hardening. As his fingertips began touching over his cock, his balls, as his gaze found hers again, she started to play. To really push herself. 

Two fingers inside her, the other hand fevered over her clit. This was for her as much as him, she wanted it, needed it. Realising just how much she had been teetering on the cusp. Close without knowing it, the ferocity of her push stealing his gasp, making him play equally as fast.

As she moved to cry out, absolutely on the edge of climax, she felt hands upon her own, pushing them away. Thinking this was a new game, that he was stopping her at this point, she .. felt his tongue pushing deep into her her, fingertips replacing hers upon her clit.

Keeling before her he tongued, licked and tasted hungrily as her cunt, eating out his own spunk, while smoothing it, spreading it, washing it atop her clit in moments where fingers and tongue swapped.

As her eyes opened, the sight was too much - shivers, shaking rising, building to the most astonishing release-to-cry - cumming over and over and over, each new shattering wave throwing her so far beyond her comfort zone, yet into dangerous, scary, exciting realms of pleasure. 

Purring with pleasure, she felt something nudging at her mouth. Instantly opening her lips she soon felt all of his length within, twisting and teasing her tongue over it - tasting their mutual sin - her hand gripping around his shaft, pushing him.

She wasn’t the only one upon such a cusp, as she added swallowed him down, devouring each new pulse between her fingers, every new drop swallowed down her throat.

(Source: kinkymariegifs, via missracheal-deactivated20140118)

Text

ANYONE FANCY A NEW STORY LATER?

Something new finished a few moments ago, a very naughty tale I hope might inspire the most devious, mischievous moments.

Anyone up for such shameless provocation? ;)

>The Delectable Mr Deviant. x

Photo
As an older man the challenge was to find a pretty Miss - in bars, coffee shops, stores - ask a question, apply a little charm with a spark of flirtation, the flourish of conversation pertaining to books, movies, music, or wherever such spoken moments might lead.
The common denominator a cheekiness in insisting he was only in that particular City or town for a single day, followed by a number written on a scrap of paper and pushed forward. 
That he’d enjoyed such ebullient discussion, their smile, such a brief moment in time - and would dearly love to spend the evening in their company.
…
It was their reaction which informed him as to where things might lead, but not always. 
Sometimes a blushing rebuttal, that the Miss in question was seeing someone, could light a candle burning for him. Patience leading to a slow, continual melting. 
Miss doing something she really knew she shouldn’t. A perfect, dirty crime for a single, sordid night.
Often-times he might invite them to dinner, smooth any initial impression out with further spark and bluster, to then offer a nightcap, a journey to his hotel room fuelled with the static crackle of fuck-lust and deliberation on their part - and judge the reaction thereafter.
Sometimes a Miss would flat out say yes, and it was those Ladies in particular he knew he could do with whatever he wished.
If he was due to meet a number of women, a later brashness or arrogance could have interesting effects. 
Many a time this lead to an evening of filth with one, who, once fucked and finished was soon shepherded away in favour of a scintillating late night foray with a naughty girl arriving a short time later. 
…
A favourite game was to then strip them completely naked, devouring their reaction with eyes, and transferring that radiance into sumptuous soft kisses over each newly exposed area of trembling skin.
The electric instance of his hand smoothing up a skirt covered thigh, under the material into darkness, brushing dangerously higher and higher. 
Perhaps a fingertip touch over the front of underwear, perhaps not - depending on how just how teasing he was feeling.
The unpick of a blouse revealing an ornate bra, kissing slowly all over it whilst reaching around to gently unpick the clasp.
 Tormenting sighs brushing over hardening nipples, a soft suck, a delicate pinch of teeth. 
Purrs to moans from Miss, a press of thighs together revealing intimately the extent of the rapture in which he had her caged. 
Devious knowledge of her mindset becoming ever more obvious against the cotton of her panties, even if he didn’t steal a glance towards just how affected she truly was. 
A blindfold, a gag, restraining cuffs with belt like clasps and a long, cold chain mocking scintillating tremors over increasingly confounded nerves.
…
He could to take her anywhere at this point - against the hotel wall, over the couch, atop the bed - it drove him wild to take her out into the hallway, or into a supply room and tease her.
One arm restraining both of her hands high above her head. Devious fingers mischievous between her legs.
Début manipulations of an index digit audaciously probing betwixt her lips, dipping inside her just a bit, before jostling her sin over her sensitive, tingling clit.
…
Sometimes language was used - the words, at times, soft and playful - in others far more scathing, luxuriant in mocking the naughty sort who would dare to do such a thing as this. 
A miss bound, gagged and naked in front of a stranger, being finger-fucked by him, yet getting wetter and wetter, now fatally closer and closer to coming against his devious tactility.
Intermittently he chose to let the velocity of silence echo and sing. A Miss alone with thoughts of lust and shame as he enacted his every desire against her wanton cunt.
…
In moments where he and a chosen Miss had been exposed to a hallway, a number of devious instances had occurred. 
Most often than not those folks stumbling upon a suited Sir fingering a naked Miss are too British and polite to say anything, scuttling off to their rooms at first sight of the sort of danger and games their own relationship had lost [or perhaps re-igniting their desires and inspiring quite the fuck!].
At one point a couple had arrived on the floor ready to go to their room. He had no idea if the girl he’s stripped was bisexual, but soon she had a business woman tonguing lavishly over her pussy, the lady herself raising her skirt enough to rub herself feverishly over the red lace revealed.
Both he and her companion unzipped and masturbated tempestuously over the woman’s face and the girl’s clit, soaking the both with hot, sticky sin - as she guided the girl towards a breathless climax. 
The chosen Miss left sobbing with desire against the wall, near paused, as both men licked the spunk from the woman’s face, her partner’s hand moving to finish her off under her knickers, as she sucked the businessman’s cock clean of spunk, and hard again. 
All then headed off to the couples room - the Miss guided along by her chains - and into a den of further deviance. 
The businessman fucking the wife, the partner the naughty Miss - she still gagged, still purring, lost in darkness, so many orgasms, as the tongue of another woman and two hard cocks ravished her.
…
Another time a security guard later admitted to wanking as he watched the camera as the businessman fingered a woman he’d met spilling out of a party. 
She was out with friends, leaving children at home, bored of so much mundanity between her fellow party dwellers.
It was she that had taken control, insisting they go back to his hotel. 
Turning the tables she sucked his cock lavishly, delighting in his moans, his primal thrusts against her mouth ravenously using it as he would her cunt. 
As he was close to cumming she spat against his cock, tightened her grip around it and milked him off all over her blouse, ruining the material, watching his eyes devour her as the cum ran under her cleavage, feeling his shaft twitch as he imagined licking and sucking her tits. 
As he moved to do just that, she pushed him on the bed, loosening his cock from his suit and riding him, her libidinous desires soiling the crotch deliberately. 
Pushing her hands to his chest, she knotted his tie and throttled him, roused by his fight for breath, the delight of her control, he twitched deep inside her, as she fucked him faster and harder.
On the cusp of a shattering climax, she desired his if only to know that she’d stolen him completely, his cry would pushing her shivers and delight to greater echelons. 
As she came, she rolled off him, dressed herself and left. 
He lay there, quivering, cock rising anew. 
But she was gone. And it was all he could do to reach down and tease himself, lost in the blur of just what had happened.
…
He soon showered thereafter, wandering back out into the City seeking a fresh face to charm and fuck. 
But keeping an eye out for the filthy little fuck who turned the tables, and acutely responsible for the restrained ridge throbbing hard between his legs.  

As an older man the challenge was to find a pretty Miss - in bars, coffee shops, stores - ask a question, apply a little charm with a spark of flirtation, the flourish of conversation pertaining to books, movies, music, or wherever such spoken moments might lead.

The common denominator a cheekiness in insisting he was only in that particular City or town for a single day, followed by a number written on a scrap of paper and pushed forward.

That he’d enjoyed such ebullient discussion, their smile, such a brief moment in time - and would dearly love to spend the evening in their company.

It was their reaction which informed him as to where things might lead, but not always.

Sometimes a blushing rebuttal, that the Miss in question was seeing someone, could light a candle burning for him. Patience leading to a slow, continual melting.

Miss doing something she really knew she shouldn’t. A perfect, dirty crime for a single, sordid night.

Often-times he might invite them to dinner, smooth any initial impression out with further spark and bluster, to then offer a nightcap, a journey to his hotel room fuelled with the static crackle of fuck-lust and deliberation on their part - and judge the reaction thereafter.

Sometimes a Miss would flat out say yes, and it was those Ladies in particular he knew he could do with whatever he wished.

If he was due to meet a number of women, a later brashness or arrogance could have interesting effects.

Many a time this lead to an evening of filth with one, who, once fucked and finished was soon shepherded away in favour of a scintillating late night foray with a naughty girl arriving a short time later. 

A favourite game was to then strip them completely naked, devouring their reaction with eyes, and transferring that radiance into sumptuous soft kisses over each newly exposed area of trembling skin.

The electric instance of his hand smoothing up a skirt covered thigh, under the material into darkness, brushing dangerously higher and higher.

Perhaps a fingertip touch over the front of underwear, perhaps not - depending on how just how teasing he was feeling.

The unpick of a blouse revealing an ornate bra, kissing slowly all over it whilst reaching around to gently unpick the clasp.

Tormenting sighs brushing over hardening nipples, a soft suck, a delicate pinch of teeth.

Purrs to moans from Miss, a press of thighs together revealing intimately the extent of the rapture in which he had her caged.

Devious knowledge of her mindset becoming ever more obvious against the cotton of her panties, even if he didn’t steal a glance towards just how affected she truly was. 

A blindfold, a gag, restraining cuffs with belt like clasps and a long, cold chain mocking scintillating tremors over increasingly confounded nerves.

He could to take her anywhere at this point - against the hotel wall, over the couch, atop the bed - it drove him wild to take her out into the hallway, or into a supply room and tease her.

One arm restraining both of her hands high above her head. Devious fingers mischievous between her legs.

Début manipulations of an index digit audaciously probing betwixt her lips, dipping inside her just a bit, before jostling her sin over her sensitive, tingling clit.

Sometimes language was used - the words, at times, soft and playful - in others far more scathing, luxuriant in mocking the naughty sort who would dare to do such a thing as this.

A miss bound, gagged and naked in front of a stranger, being finger-fucked by him, yet getting wetter and wetter, now fatally closer and closer to coming against his devious tactility.

Intermittently he chose to let the velocity of silence echo and sing. A Miss alone with thoughts of lust and shame as he enacted his every desire against her wanton cunt.

In moments where he and a chosen Miss had been exposed to a hallway, a number of devious instances had occurred.

Most often than not those folks stumbling upon a suited Sir fingering a naked Miss are too British and polite to say anything, scuttling off to their rooms at first sight of the sort of danger and games their own relationship had lost [or perhaps re-igniting their desires and inspiring quite the fuck!].

At one point a couple had arrived on the floor ready to go to their room. He had no idea if the girl he’s stripped was bisexual, but soon she had a business woman tonguing lavishly over her pussy, the lady herself raising her skirt enough to rub herself feverishly over the red lace revealed.

Both he and her companion unzipped and masturbated tempestuously over the woman’s face and the girl’s clit, soaking the both with hot, sticky sin - as she guided the girl towards a breathless climax.

The chosen Miss left sobbing with desire against the wall, near paused, as both men licked the spunk from the woman’s face, her partner’s hand moving to finish her off under her knickers, as she sucked the businessman’s cock clean of spunk, and hard again. 

All then headed off to the couples room - the Miss guided along by her chains - and into a den of further deviance.

The businessman fucking the wife, the partner the naughty Miss - she still gagged, still purring, lost in darkness, so many orgasms, as the tongue of another woman and two hard cocks ravished her.

Another time a security guard later admitted to wanking as he watched the camera as the businessman fingered a woman he’d met spilling out of a party.

She was out with friends, leaving children at home, bored of so much mundanity between her fellow party dwellers.

It was she that had taken control, insisting they go back to his hotel.

Turning the tables she sucked his cock lavishly, delighting in his moans, his primal thrusts against her mouth ravenously using it as he would her cunt.

As he was close to cumming she spat against his cock, tightened her grip around it and milked him off all over her blouse, ruining the material, watching his eyes devour her as the cum ran under her cleavage, feeling his shaft twitch as he imagined licking and sucking her tits. 

As he moved to do just that, she pushed him on the bed, loosening his cock from his suit and riding him, her libidinous desires soiling the crotch deliberately.

Pushing her hands to his chest, she knotted his tie and throttled him, roused by his fight for breath, the delight of her control, he twitched deep inside her, as she fucked him faster and harder.

On the cusp of a shattering climax, she desired his if only to know that she’d stolen him completely, his cry would pushing her shivers and delight to greater echelons. 

As she came, she rolled off him, dressed herself and left.

He lay there, quivering, cock rising anew.

But she was gone. And it was all he could do to reach down and tease himself, lost in the blur of just what had happened.

He soon showered thereafter, wandering back out into the City seeking a fresh face to charm and fuck.

But keeping an eye out for the filthy little fuck who turned the tables, and acutely responsible for the restrained ridge throbbing hard between his legs.  

(Source: appartengo, via agoodsubishard2find)

Photoset

As her husband grew ever more distant, she wondered if he was having an affair, else if her worst nightmare was coming true - that the arrogance she’d loved about him during their younger years was become ever more bitter and vicious.

Bewilderment turned to anger, anger became pleasure as she bought more toys and started to explore erotica, videos, the sort of mindset that existed beyond anything the two of them had done.

It was confiding in this to a friend which lead to her being invited to an ‘event’. The sort of thing she’d never dared attend prior to this - and given that the whole adventure was kept secret from her for the most part, she may not have attended otherwise.

Laying on the floor was a young man, still, expectant, obedient even. It was then she noticed the marks across the boy’s body, over his back, his chest and stomach. His form trembling, emitting faint sobs.

A million emotions flooded through her, from pity to empathy, of wanting to undo the binds and free him. Yet she delighted in seeing his flayed purring form, and realised just how wet she’d become from watching him. She shivered. She ached. She was transfixed between shamed and aroused.

The silence was broken with her friend handing her a whip, instructions whispered to her that she should take out all the frustration she was feeling from her husband, all of that anguish, out on the writhing teen in front of her. 

Nerves at first, then more cajoling. A first strike, somewhat light and reluctant, the boy cried, purred, moved again. As he turned into the light slightly she noticed his rock hard cock against the floor. She noticed a dirty jewel sticky amidst the tip. She hit him, harder, more. 

She licked her lips as his cries grew louder. Subsequent strikes blistered harder, cracked previously pink marks into bruises. Further hits, doused in venomous language blushed the purple into streaks of shimmering red.

He ached and throbbed and turned. Track marks cried deep red tears. His cock was harder, more delicious than anything she’d ever seen. She wanted to suck him, ride him. Smooth her hands and fingertips over every inch of his ache, hear his most primal cry and she made cum cum over and over and over. 

But she wasn’t allowed. “He’d been a very, very bad boy” and deserved far deeper punishment than she was allowed to give him.

Watching on she saw as other took her devious illustrations and took them in new directions, and paints of pinks, purples and crimson took on new forms. Wax was poured over the wounds and the man-child sobbed. Yet as her eyes misted up over the hurt, his cock continued to throb, he bit his lip with pleasure, purred within the aftershock of each spontaneous strike, of every new soul pouring language and violence upon him.

Before she knew it the room had blurred, her fingers were fevered over her jeans, rubbing herself through them - and it was only on the cusp of climax she realised how wanton she’d become. Wanting him, devouring the abuse, yearning for his cum.

Names were drawn from a hat as to whom finished him off, in a way of her choosing. She lost, but watched the most handsome businessman tighten a harsh fist around the young man’s cock, pushing his fast and hard, inserting a finger into his bottom and inspiring the most vivacious and shuddering orgasm she’d ever known.

Her hands were undoing her jeans, thrusting into her knickers as she watched, biting her lip as he cried out, spunking so hard over the businessman’s hand - as she imagined it was her wanking him, else riding the boy’s face as he screamed into her cunt.

She came like crazy against her fingers, lost  .. so utterly fucking lost. Transfixed by the witchcraft of the brand new world she’d discovered, and wondering just how far the rabbit hole lead downwards.

(Source: derekisme, via harlowtheswitch)

Photo
Sir always treated her with kindness and grace.
She could speak to him after lessons and tell him about all the things people were saying about her - the filthiest of things, which she told him were not true.
Except they were all true, she loved cock, and wanted her Teacher’s more than anything. Something about the maturity, the suit, the way he spoke made her effortlessly wet in class, and inspired her to fingerfuck furiously from the mere thought of him.
Sometimes it was directly after the lesson, if she felt she couldn’t make it home - thinking of Sir stolen away in the bathroom stall with her, lifting her skirt, pushing his fingers into her knickers and frigging her to dirtiest climax.
That he always listened and never acted upon things heightened that he was good man, but that made her want him more. One night she imagined him going home, undoing his belt, the zip on those finely tailored trousers and punishing his shaft thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her, but couldn’t, shouldn’t. 
Of the fountains of spunk flooding from his cock, over his hand, staining his suit. Such a delicious mess inspired her fingers, had her licking her tongue against the roof of her mouth wanting to swirl it around his spasming tip, to suck down every last drop of the sin she’s inspired so devilishly.
It was coming close to the last day of school, ever - and she wanted to say goodbye. To find out the truth about any self-tease she’s inspired, to blushingly confess her masturbation, and of what a filthy little fuck she truly was.
Take Sir to the place she’d teased so many boys, take off her blouse, and let him gaze at her breasts as she touched him for the first time. Feeling the ridge she’d made, unzipping it, taking it deep in her mouth. Milking Sir lovingly, feeling him throb in her hand as she spat gently down his cock, before rubbing and sucking him anew.
She wondered if he’d dare lift her skirt, go down between her thighs and lick her over the cotton of her knickers. See for himself just what she thought of him, and how much. Push the material around over her clit and make her cum. The delicious thought of his fingers inching inside her. Of laying back on the picnic tables, looking back and watching as he fucked her.
For all her filth and bravado, she was nervous. The butterflies in her tummy twisted just how wet she was between her legs. She new she needed to make a decision, and then ..
The last bell of school rang out.  

Sir always treated her with kindness and grace.

She could speak to him after lessons and tell him about all the things people were saying about her - the filthiest of things, which she told him were not true.

Except they were all true, she loved cock, and wanted her Teacher’s more than anything. Something about the maturity, the suit, the way he spoke made her effortlessly wet in class, and inspired her to fingerfuck furiously from the mere thought of him.

Sometimes it was directly after the lesson, if she felt she couldn’t make it home - thinking of Sir stolen away in the bathroom stall with her, lifting her skirt, pushing his fingers into her knickers and frigging her to dirtiest climax.

That he always listened and never acted upon things heightened that he was good man, but that made her want him more. One night she imagined him going home, undoing his belt, the zip on those finely tailored trousers and punishing his shaft thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her, but couldn’t, shouldn’t.

Of the fountains of spunk flooding from his cock, over his hand, staining his suit. Such a delicious mess inspired her fingers, had her licking her tongue against the roof of her mouth wanting to swirl it around his spasming tip, to suck down every last drop of the sin she’s inspired so devilishly.

It was coming close to the last day of school, ever - and she wanted to say goodbye. To find out the truth about any self-tease she’s inspired, to blushingly confess her masturbation, and of what a filthy little fuck she truly was.

Take Sir to the place she’d teased so many boys, take off her blouse, and let him gaze at her breasts as she touched him for the first time. Feeling the ridge she’d made, unzipping it, taking it deep in her mouth. Milking Sir lovingly, feeling him throb in her hand as she spat gently down his cock, before rubbing and sucking him anew.

She wondered if he’d dare lift her skirt, go down between her thighs and lick her over the cotton of her knickers. See for himself just what she thought of him, and how much. Push the material around over her clit and make her cum. The delicious thought of his fingers inching inside her. Of laying back on the picnic tables, looking back and watching as he fucked her.

For all her filth and bravado, she was nervous. The butterflies in her tummy twisted just how wet she was between her legs. She new she needed to make a decision, and then ..

The last bell of school rang out.  

(via makindaddyproud)