June 17, 2011

A Few of Her Favorite Things

Posted in stories tagged at 2:52 am by littlesubmissions

“Most of your clothes… they’re in the way.” She wiggled her fingers, a shooing motion flicking at the cloth over his skin.

“Most?” He frowned, looked down, paused, started to pull his shirt over his head. “Just tell me when to stop then…”

The thin cotton muffled the sound of her laugh. “If you pull your skin off, I’ll be very surprised.”

“Me too.” He slid his pants down and nodded.

“Kneel in front of me.” She slid the hood over his face, smoothing it, fussing with it, black nylon erasing his features, turning his eyes into two large, flat pools of smooth black cloth. Fussing with it, pulling it down over his nose, erasing his face and obliterating his identity. “I want you to just be an anonymous thing tonight.”

She looked at him, felt the nagging sensation of empathy melting down her body, a warm flush on her skin. “Back up, down on all fours.” The words were more curt, short and terse.

The wood and steel became just another part of this thing to her, spinning the wing nuts around the bolts, metal cold on warm fingertips. “Spread more.” Dragging his balls back between his legs, positioning the wooden jaws over them, tightening it until the humbler held them back and away from his body. Just a modification to a thing, a wooden stitch altering a displeasing hem on his body.

She looked down, and he was more of a thing. Balls dragged back between his legs, the skin of them pulled tight enough to show dimpled flesh turning a darker color. Her own jeans hit the floor, and she shrugged her panties down.

It was hard to look away from the thing in front of her, this bestial abomination forced to crawl on all fours, blind and without a face. The plug slipped into the wall, the buzzing running through her arm as she sat on the bed, propped one leg on the things shoulder, and spread her legs.

“Look up.” The black sphere raised up, unseeing. No emotion written on the blackness, an anonymous thing crouched on her floor, a piece of meat for her to jerk off to. It was a long, slow fuck, pushing the vibrations through her cunt, twisting her nipples, rocking her hips, forcing her eyes to stay open and look down at the trembling neck muscles and the pitch black hole on top of them, filling her up with lust, orgasms, and some of her favorite things.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

4 Comments »

  1. Anon said,

    Your stories always hit the right buttons. And I wish I could write like you.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Thank you very much.

  2. Mike said,

    You leave me hungry for lots more. There is so little good erotic writing out here. Thanks.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      It’s good to be hungry. 😉 And you’re welcome.


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