Gap Year Experience Pt. 04

(This story continues directly from Gap Year Experience Pt. 03, so it is probably worth reading the previous chapters first for context. Thank you to Mike as always for his tireless editing - and patience!)

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My relationship with Andrew continued to develop.

I went to his house every Friday evening and often stayed until Monday morning. We fucked incessantly. A mixture of plain "vanilla" and increasingly "kinky".

My anus was much more used to his cock by now and he was regularly fitting it all inside me, which was quite an extraordinary experience.

I felt that I daren't move when it was inside me in case I split open, but the feeling of being "taken" every time was profound.

I was completely fascinated by his cock. It was still the only one I had seen erect in real life other than mine, and I felt quite "proprietorial" over it. I would happily play with it for hours. Licking, sucking, stroking etc., until finally it would explode in thick strings of semen, usually in my mouth, on my face, or all over my hands.

I loved swallowing the thick cum, the taste and feel of it over my tongue gave me a deep sense of debasement.

His cock was spectacular and at the time I knew no different, but since Andrew I have had quite a number of lovers, and none has been the size of him. On reflection, I have to say that in a regular lover I actually prefer a slightly smaller penis. There is definitely something in being "rent asunder" by a huge cock, but in practice, for day-to-day sex, something a bit smaller, but skillfully employed, is much more relaxing and, therefore, gives me better orgasms. I guess it just isn't quite as frightening!

Anyway, that realisation came later. For the moment, I didn't know anything different and it was great!

One morning, a few months into our relationship, as we lay in bed on a Saturday morning, relaxing in a post-coital snooze, he pulled me towards him with his strong arms and kissed me on the lips.

"You know that I am not seeing anyone else, don't you?" he whispered quietly.

"Well, I don't know that, but I would like it to be true."

"Well, I'm not. I think of you as my boyfriend."

I was startled. For a moment I felt that I couldn't breathe.

"Do you? Am I?" I whispered, thrilled at the idea.

"Yes. I do. I want you to be my boyfriend."

I didn't really know what that meant. Or rather, I didn't know what would be different about the relationship. But I wanted it. I wanted it to be true. I felt a surge of love, or lust, at the idea, and gripped him with my arms, crushing my smooth chest into his rough, hairy one and kissing him hard on the mouth.

"I'd like that."

I didn't quite know what else to say. I didn't want to say anything that would make him change his mind.

"What does that mean?"

Bizarrely, I started to fantasise about setting up house with him. Living as an acknowledged couple.

"It means that we don't see other people."

I wasn't going to anyway.

"And it means you can stay every weekend, and maybe during the week too. You can leave some things here, like a toothbrush and spare clothes."

"OK"

"And, we can stop using condoms." he said, looking me in the eye.

"But what about?" I started.

"No, don't worry, we'll both get tested, so we'll know."

"Ok, great." I was relieved. I wasn't sure where he was going with this and, for a brief moment, I worried about his motives. I also reflected that, as I'd never slept with anyone other than Andrew, it wasn't really necessary for me to be tested, but I suppose the point was that we'd both start from a clean sheet of certainty, rather than just probability.

"We should go today. This morning."

So, after a leisurely shower together, during which he washed me, perhaps with even greater tenderness than usual, and breakfast, we drove into town to the local walk-in sexual health clinic.

I was suddenly mortified with embarrassment at the idea of going into the clinic together. Fortunately, he also, perhaps more from professional discretion, suggested that we park in the town centre car park, and I wait in the car while he went first, and then I go separately once he had returned. It seemed like a sensible plan, and I quietly sat in his car, reading a book, while I waited for him.

After about an hour he returned and explained the process to me. Even though he had briefed me, I was still nervous, particularly when I had to answer questions about my sexual history and practices.

This was the first time I had admitted to anyone, other than Andrew, that I was gay - or at least had sex with men - and it was actually quite difficult for me. Fortunately, the young nurse was polite and poker-faced. I guess she had heard it all before. After that, it was plain sailing. Just a little prick on the finger for a blood test, and home to await the results. Andrew smiled as he saw me approaching the car.

"How did it go?"

"Fine." I smiled and got into the car. After a quick check to make sure no one else was around, he leant over and kissed me. On the lips. It was a fairly perfunctory kiss, but it was a kiss on the lips, and this, I realised, was not only the first time we had been out together in public, but also the first time the nature of our relationship had been hinted at to the wider world.

OK, nobody was there to see it, and he wouldn't have done it if anyone had, but it still felt special. I did feel like his boyfriend.

He was acknowledging our relationship to the world, and it gave me a warm and sexy feeling inside. He then put his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze before starting the car and driving us back to his house.

His car was an ancient sports model. A Triumph Stag, a relic of the seventies. It was his pride and joy, and he lavished a lot of care and attention on it. At the time, I thought it was pretty cool, in a "vintage" sort of way, and it certainly felt cool for my older "boyfriend" to be driving me home in his sports car. Those readers who know anything about the Triumph Stag may sympathise when I say that I am not, with hindsight, entirely convinced about how cool this really was, but at the time it felt pretty good!

I was emboldened by the step we had taken. It left me feeling a little more secure and as he drove, I suddenly reached across to put my hand on his thigh.

"What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing."

I gradually moved my hand further up and onto his inner thigh until I was brushing against his crotch. I could feel a promising bulge, which suggested my ministrations weren't wholly unappreciated. Then I brazenly put my hand on the bulge and started to massage it.

"Hey, watch out, I'm driving!"

"Oh really, then you had better pay extra attention." Brattily.

And with that I leant over and, with my other hand, started to unzip his trousers and unbuckle his belt.

"Shit, I need to stop."

Frantically, he scanned the road and, a little way ahead, saw a lay-by. He pulled over, as far away from the road as he could, and stopped the car.

I took this as acquiescence to my dirty plan and continued to unbuckle and unzip his trousers to allow his magnificent cock to spring out. Leaning across I, took it in my hands and started to wank him. Up and down, watching his reaction through the corner of my eye.

He was staring fixedly ahead, both hands on the polished wooden steering wheel. Gripping tightly, knuckles white, breathing shallowly.

I chuckled to myself and bent over further to put my head into his lap (not an easy feat, by the way, in a Triumph Stag), fed his cock between my parted, breathless lips. Filling my mouth with the gorgeous cockhead. I sucked him and wanked his shaft with my hands as he sat, now with his head back, eyes closed and mouth open, but hands still firmly on the steering wheel.

I teased him. Nibbling, biting, sucking, blowing. Shallow as my tongue explored his glans, then deep as I attempted to take him into my throat. Gratifyingly for him (I suspect), this always resulted in my gagging as I failed to accommodate him.

Once or twice, I released him from my mouth and hands, leaving him waving in the breeze as my hands explored inside his shirt and I kissed him primly on the cheek.

"Do you think it is very naughty of us to be doing this?" I teased.

"Probably." Gruffly.

"I wonder what would happen if a hunky policeman caught us?" I was having fun with him.

"Do you think we would get away with a spanking? I laughed.

"Or maybe I would have to blow him off as well, to get us off (so to speak)."

"Shut up and finish the job before we do get caught!" Stern now. Cock ready to explode, but also conscious that we were really in rather an exposed and vulnerable position, and the consequences of getting caught in flagrante would actually be pretty serious.

I laughed again, enjoying my bratty role, but complied and bent my head to the task at hand - and mouth.

It didn't take very long before he finally moaned, his cock swelled and twitched, and my mouth was suddenly filled as he pumped me full of his hot, salty, delicious essence.

I held him in my mouth, pumping and milking him clean. I kept his cum in my mouth while I sat up and opened my mouth wide to show him my prize, before swallowing.

As I primly put his cock back into his trousers and zipped him up, he turned to me and said, "Fuck! You, young Daniel, are a very naughty boy! I think I shall have to give you a sound spanking when I get you home."

I felt a surge of excitement and lust in the pit of my stomach, flowing through to my loins, as I joined in the game.

"Where would you spank me, Sir?"

"On your bottom!"

"Would you make me take my trousers down?" I teased.

"Yes! Trousers and pants! I am going to spank your bare bottom!"

"Will it hurt?"

"I shall certainly try to ensure it does!"

"Mmm, I moaned theatrically. I can't wait!"

He finally laughed and I felt a real bond between us. It was odd, but the silly "age play" game, although on the face of it, ridiculous, was actually indicative of a new level of intimacy and understanding between us. We felt we could expose ourselves to each other's possible ridicule, without fear of it actually happening. I settled back into my seat to look at him as he drove home.

When we arrived he was as good as his word.

"Right, young man, time for your spanking."

We hadn't even made it to the bedroom and were still downstairs in the living room.

"Trousers and pants off!"

I'd already taken my shoes off when we entered the house, so I quickly unbuttoned my trousers and dropped them, swiftly followed by my underpants. I lifted my T-shirt over my head, briefly exposing myself full frontal, reveling in my nudity. I could sense him admiring my fit young body. My body that was now saved for him, exclusively.

He sat on the sofa and called me over.

"Right, now lie across my lap."

I positioned myself on the sofa and lay down, crushing my rapidly stiffening cock against his groin.

He ran his hands over my naked flesh.

"So beautiful. So Sexy. But so naughty!"

He sighed in what I took to be both satisfaction with what he had in front of him, and his anticipation of what he was going to do with, or rather, to, it. He again ran his hands over my back and arse, appreciatively. I luxuriated in the touch of his large, strong, hands. possessing me.

"Now, repeat after me. 'It is very dangerous to give blow jobs when someone is driving.'"

I complied, continuing with my slightly 'bratty' tone of a recalcitrant youth.

"And what punishment do you think you deserve?"

It was already established what he thought I deserved, as I was naked over his lap with my arse at his mercy. He'd already told me I deserved a spanking, but he was clearly enjoying the scenario, so I continued the game.

"I deserve to have my bottom spanked."

"That's right! Naughty boys get their bottoms spanked, and maybe," as he slid his fingers along my arse crack, "something else."

My cock stiffened further as I had a pretty shrewd idea of what 'something else' might entail.

"Yes, sir." I responded meekly.

"Right, are you ready?"

"Yes, sir." Once again.

And immediately the first stroke landed. He didn't start gently, as he often would. This was hard, with a crack like a rifle shot. Shock and pain flashed through my body, as it always did at the beginning of a hard punishment.

This time there was no counting. No "Thank you, sir" after each stroke. He held my wrists behind my back with his strong hand, and smacked my bottom ferociously, grunting with the force of each blow.

As usual it wasn't long before I started to feel woozy, as my bottom warmed up and his blows started to flow into each other like waves.

All the time, I knew he was studying my bottom. Watching the way it rippled under the strokes and gradually reddened as the blood flow coursed into the afflicted area.

I found this sort of punishment incredibly relaxing, and I felt great waves of affection and, dare I say it, love, for Andrew flowing through me as he administered it.

I became increasingly aroused too, and he could tell by the sounds I was making - moaning and mewling - as well as my now rock-hard cock pressing against his trouser-covered lap.

He paused, and I felt him probe my anus with his finger, slipping an inch or so inside, but I guess he could tell from my response that this was very likely to result in a nasty white mess on his trousers, spurting from my engorged cock.

He was getting hard too, but, as he had already climaxed into my mouth in the car less than half an hour earlier, he wasn't quite ready to penetrate me with his cock as he might usually.

I was disappointed, but he solved this problem by telling me to get up off his lap and stand in front of him.

He admired my bright red cheeks, stroking and kissing them with a proprietorial air.

Turning me around to face him, he touched my cock. Bobbing erect in front of his face as he remained sitting on the sofa. Just starting to ooze at the tip. He gave it a quick kiss, and I pushed my hips forward, ready for the hoped-for blow job. But no, he withdrew.

"You have been a naughty boy, remember. Naughty boys don't get rewarded like that. You can wank yourself off."

I was slightly nonplussed.

"Here in front of me. I want to watch." He smiled a wicked smile.

I had masturbated in front of him before, but there was something especially degrading about having my bottom spanked and then being told to masturbate - that most private of acts - in front of him, in his living room, as he sat on the sofa, watching.

However, I complied. I took my cock in my left hand (it was always the left hand for me) and started to massage it up and down. I watched him as his eyes narrowed, enjoying the sight of his nubile, spanked, young boyfriend wanking himself off at his command. I confess I hammed it up a little, but only a little as I was genuinely so aroused by this debased, degrading scenario that I didn't really need to pretend.

Indeed, I was so aroused already that it didn't take long for me to feel the surge in my loins as the, by now unstoppable, orgasm gathered pace.

I came copiously, spurting cum an impressive (if I say so myself!) distance across his hardwood floor. I kept massaging and milking until there was nothing left. Then I stood there panting, sweating slightly, naked and depleted.

He looked at me carefully through hooded eyes, and said very quietly.

"Now lick it up!"

I knelt down and, maintaining eye contact, knelt down, naked, and started to lick my own cum from his floor. A dirty cum slut.

As I did so, he unzipped his own trousers and took out his own cock, wanking it slowly back to life.

As always, it was an impressive sight, and at his summons I crawled over to kneel in front of him and took him in my mouth...

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The rest of the weekend was delightful but uneventful.

We waited through the week, in slightly nervous anticipation for the results of the tests, which arrived the following Thursday. I had, as expected, received a clean bill of health.

We didn't see each other in the office that week, as he was involved in some off-site meetings, so we didn't have a chance to discuss the results until Friday evening when, as usual, instead of going to my bedsit, I headed over to his house.

He welcomed me at the door, and I went inside, discreetly, closing the door after me.

"So?" He demanded.

I pulled out my piece of official NHS paper with my results.

"Clear!"

He grinned and thrust a similar piece of paper at me.

"Ditto!"

"Come here!" He pulled me into a hug, and a kiss.

"Now that is good news!" he said, smiling.

"Do you know what that means?"

"I think so."

"It means I can fuck your pert little bottom with my naked cock to my heart's content. I can fill you up with my cum in your bottom as well as your mouth. How does that sound?"

"Mmmm, it sounds rather appealing, actually." Smiling coquettishly.

Feeling emboldened by our new status, I knelt down in front of him, still in the hallway, and unzipped his trousers to release his gorgeous cock.

I took him in my mouth as usual, and by now rather skillfully, fellated him to a full erection. I licked up and down the shaft. I tongued his urethral opening, pulled back his foreskin to reveal the shiny glans. I nipped him with my teeth, playfully, all the while massaging him with my left hand. With my right hand I reached through to massage his perineum and anus.

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" he asked.

I looked up at him and smiled.

"Because you haven't undressed me yet!"

"Stand up!"

I did, and he quickly unbuttoned my shirt, stripping me naked to the waist. I kicked off my shoes as he undid the belt of my trousers and the fly button.

"Take them off!"

I wriggled out of my jeans - sexily, I hoped - and stood there in only my boxer shorts.

He pulled them down to mid-thigh, releasing my cock, which sprang out, ready for action.

He smiled and stroked it gently, then knelt to pull my boxers all the way down, and I stepped out of them.

I was naked and he was still fully clothed. I always thrilled at this situation, and the implicit power dynamic. I was naked, and I was naked for him.

"That's better! Oh, one more thing: I have a little something for you."

He handed me a gift-wrapped box.

"For me?"

"Of course! A celebratory gift!"

I was touched.

I opened the box and saw it contained, wrapped up in tissue paper, two items. I looked up at him quizzically.

"What are they?"

"Take them out!"

I opened the larger one first. It was a black leather collar, with a small silver or nickel "O" ring attached to the front.

The leather was clearly of high quality. Supple and burnished.

"Put it on!"

"What is it for?"

"Just a little something to mark our change of status."

I looked at him.

"You are mine now. I want to mark you as such."

I was too slow so he took the collar from my hand and fastened it around my neck, buckling it at the back, just tight enough that I definitely knew it was there.

"I want you to wear this around the house when you are here."

He paused and looked at me.

"Apart from the collar, I'd like you to be naked at all times."

"What, all the time?"

"Yes, all the time."

"Do you think you would like that?"

I actually wondered, rather prosaically, whether it might be a bit cold, but then quickly realised that this wasn't the point.

"Open the other one."

I did, and out fell a matching silver nickel dog leash, with a clip and a black leather loop handle.

Andrew clicked the leash onto the collar's O-ring and pulled me into him.

No explanation, apology, or equivocation. Just action.

I was shocked. Where did this come from? I thought we were celebrating our freedom from condoms. I hadn't expected this!

Yet, I felt the familiar sense of submission come over me. I wanted to do what Andrew asked me - told me - to do. I wanted to do what he wanted. And if he wanted this, then that was what I wanted also.

"Hmm, so sexy. You look quite the little slave boy, don't you?"

He turned me to look at myself in the mirror on one of the walls.

He stood behind me and kissed my ear as he ran his hands over my body up and down my flanks, over my hips and thighs, stroking my buttocks and gliding over my cock.

"How does it feel?" he asked, looking me in the eyes in the mirror.

I sank to my knees, and looked up at him with a smile and took him in my mouth again.

I was amazed how far I had come in a few short months. Here I was naked except for a leather collar, on a leash, mouth filled with an erect penis attached to a 45-year-middle middle management executive, and with a hard-on like I had never experienced before.

I was doing what he wanted, what he desired, and what I was starting to learn about myself to was that it didn't really matter what it was he wanted me to do; if he wanted me to do it, and especially if it was somehow "taboo", it was a huge turn-on for me.

I also realised the implications of this; there really wasn't anything, within the sane limits of consenting adults, that I wouldn't do for him. That revelation made my insides spin as I realised the possibilities this opened up.

I was also excited by how much it made him lust after me. I felt different, and he acted differently. He was almost crazed with lust.

I wanted him naked. I wanted his body. I wanted to feel his skin on mine. As I fellated him, I reached to undo his trousers. To get him naked.

I wanted to tear off his clothes.

"Careful now!"

He seemed amused as I wrestled his trousers down, then having to undo his shoes to get them off. Tugging his trousers off, I pulled down his underpants to free the important bits. Then I ran my hands up inside his shirt, lifting it up, frantically unbuttoning to free him until he was naked - more so than I!

"Hmm, that's better."

I kissed my way up his belly to his mouth and deeply French-kissed him. I felt slightly deranged by desire. I wanted him inside me. In my mouth, in my bottom. I wanted to be possessed by him. The extreme kinkiness of the collar and leash had sort of switched something in my brain.

"I want you to fuck me. Fuck my arse, fuck my cunt. Fill my tummy with your cum. Make me pregnant (yes, I know, crazy!). Use me as your dirty fuck slave."

He was amused, but hugely aroused, and he grasped me in his strong arms and pulled me into his hairy chest.

"I think we should go upstairs and see what we can do about that, don't you?"

"Yes, please! Sir!"

He took the leash in his hand and led me upstairs, naked. Following my Master to his bedroom, to his fuck chamber.

Or maybe now it was OUR bedroom. OUR fuck chamber. I didn't really know anymore.

But whatever it was, it was where he was going to defile me. To use my bottom for his pleasure. And I knew I wanted that.

I dutifully followed him into the room, whereupon he immediately, and peremptorily, turned me around and forced me face down on the bed.

He put a pillow under my hips to elevate my pert arse and forced my legs wide apart.

I adopted the position I so loved; the abject submission to a strong man. Knees spread, arse up, cheeks spread. Ready to submit to him. To allow him to take me. Thoroughly, deeply, totally.

"I am going to force my naked cock into your pretty bottom. I am going to do it hard, so that it hurts."

He poured some lube into my crack and massaged it into my anus, sliding a finger inside to ensure full coverage of the interior.

I then felt him position the head of that huge cock, naked for the first time, flesh on flesh, against my anus. He put one hand on my shoulder, the other guiding his member into me. I heard him grunt, and his muscular body stiffened as he forced his penis against my yielding hole.

I felt an overpowering sense of connection as his naked, unsheathed penis forced its way into me. Forcing me open, as always, wider than I would think possible, feeling his actual naked, hard velvety flesh slide inside me. Without the physical and emotional barrier of the condom. No rubber, just the feel of my lover's body.

Then the familiar sense of fullness. Impossible fullness. Only accommodated by a conscious relaxation of my muscles to let him in. Once in, a pause, to savour the feeling, before withdrawal. Not all the way, just a bit, then back, then a bit further and back again. Building up to the mechanical pistoning as he fucked me. Tempo increasing, force increasing.

All the while I was gritting my teeth and moaning and mewling quietly as I accepted his sphincter-straining incursion.

He moved both hands to my shoulders as he found his rhythm. Then he gripped my hips, pulling me back towards him onto his cock. Grinding brutally into me. Hurting me. Trying to hurt me. Digging his nails into me. Into my buttocks and hips. Owning my body and making me his. I moaned and gurgled. I don't think it was a sexy noise, but it was all that would come out.

For his part he was puffing and grunting. We weren't talking; we were just caught in the sexual, sensual, physical moment. He released my hips and pushed me down onto the bed. Smothering my body with his. Gripping me. Fingers thrust into my mouth, pulling and twisting my head back so he could force his tongue into my mouth as well. His other hand gripped my nipple, squeezing and twisting, hurting me more. Punishing me.

Then, agonizingly, he withdrew, leaving a gaping void in my belly and behind as that huge cock was removed. I think I squealed in anguish at the sudden loss. But not for long, as he rolled me over onto my back. He positioned my hands above my head.

"Hold on to the bed frame, or I will have to tie you."

Whilst the idea of being tied was actually rather appealing, I didn't want him to stop to go and find some rope, so I complied, gripping the iron bars of the bed, knuckles white.

"That's better, you little slut."

Then he spread my legs wide, pushing my knees up and out, opening me up for his access.

I was hard. He briefly grabbed my cock and his in one hand and rubbed them together, thrusting against my cock in the narrow opening of his hand. I could feel the slime of lube on his cock rubbing against mine.

Then he let me go and positioned his cock at my still gaping anus.

"Open yourself up for me."

As I was still wide open and receptive, this was a mere formality and he slipped in without obstruction, the only difference being the curve of his cock in the opposite direction inside me, probing me in a subtly different way.

With his hands on my knees, pressing and pushing me wide apart, painfully, he thrust deep once more. This time he could look me in the eyes as he took me. I was very conscious of my leather collar and leash He was drinking me in, eyes slightly glazed and mouth open. Breathing raggedly as he fucked me.

"Do you like it when I fuck you? Does my pretty slave like being fucked?"

My frantic nod of agreement was superfluous as my hard cock, offered silent affirmation and he took it in in one hand and started to wank me also. Gripping my cock in his large, strong hand

"Good. Very good. Can you feel my cock in your pretty arse?"

"Yes, yes." I gasped.

"That's where it belongs isn't it? In your pretty boy arse. Not for anyone else. Unless I instruct it (what did he mean by that? I wondered, on another plane).

"You are my cum dump. You exist for my pleasure."

Yanking on the leash and tightening the collar around my neck, slightly restricting my breathing.

"My naked, collared, slave boy."

As he talked, he fucked me harder and harder

I wondered about his slave boy fantasies. Whether I was his first slave boy. I didn't know. I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to know.

I just wanted to be in the moment. The debased fuck slave of this strong virile man, using my anus like he owned it. Which, as far as I was concerned, he did.

Finally, with a guttural moan, and helped by the verbal articulation, he came. I loved the fact that he was coming inside me. Straight into me. Hot spasms of semen filling me up. His cock, still hard, continued to pump in and out, slowing but firm and strong, mixing his cum into a cocktail inside my arse.

Finally, he withdrew from me, his softening, naked cock slipping out of my arse. Slimy with cum and lube. He turned me over again, once more face down to the bed, and pulled my hips up, so I was on my knees, and started to lick my arse, around and inside my anus. He was licking his own cum out of me. It was an extraordinarily intimate act, and I spread my legs as wide as possible to allow him access.

Then he stuck his fingers into me and scooped his cum out of my arsehole. Reaching to pull back my head, he presented his fingers to me, forcing them into my mouth, making me lick his fingers clean, and then wiping them over my face.

Finally, he pulled me up to my knees, twisted my head round to face him, and pulled me into him, kissing me deeply on the mouth. Tasting each other in the process. Luxuriating in the heady aromas of my arse and his cum.

But I wanted one more thing. I turned around and bent forward to reach his cock with my mouth. Softened now, but still alive and twitching. I took him in my mouth and licked him clean, rolling him around my mouth. Seeing if I could make him hard again - but he was spent.

I, on the other hand, was still hard. Sometimes Andrew had the evil habit of cumming and then not letting me cum. Keeping me hard but frustrated. Fortunately, not this time. He lifted my head from his cock, smiled, and said, "I think I had better help you here."

He gave me a quick kiss, then pushed me back onto the bed and spread my legs once again so he could take me in his mouth. He caressed my erection with his hands. His lips. Before gradually taking me down into his throat.

There was an intimacy here I had never felt before. He had used me, a vessel for his pleasure, but now he was gently, thoroughly, looking after my needs too.

As he sucked and licked he massaged my inner thighs, my balls, and my anus. I defy anyone to withstand this sort of treatment for long, and soon I also came, thoroughly and noisily into his mouth and he milked me clean.

Then, sated, he took me in his arms and kissed me again. We swapped my cum from mouth-to-mouth until we had, between us, swallowed it all.

As we lay there, embracing, he continued to kiss me, gently, on the lips and face.

Then he whispered." Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes." Which I thought was obvious.

"What did you enjoy about it?"

I liked your fucking me.

"Yes, but this," he said, caressing the leather collar I was still wearing. "What did you think of this? How did it make you feel?"

I struggled to answer. Objectively, I couldn't understand what it was.

"I don't know. It felt hot?"

"But why was it hot? How did it make you feel?"

And I realised.

"I think I felt submissive. Owned. And desired."

Odd words to use. But they were the right words. I realised what a turn-on being submissive was to me. I wanted to submit. I wanted to be desired. I wanted to be owned by my man. My boyfriend. It felt amazing. It felt naughty and I felt objectified And I realised, with a sudden sense of comfort, that I liked that.

"Well, you are certainly desired. And owned. You are my slut slave. My fuck boy. Your gorgeous body is solely for my pleasure. Your entire purpose is for my pleasure. Does that make sense to you? Do you agree to that.

I snuggled in to his body and kissed him. "Yes. Yes it does. That makes complete sense to me".

And it did. It was all so clear.

And with that thought, we fell asleep in each other's arms.