domination #1

I’d been reading the craigslist personal ads for shits and giggles, looking to see how many of the men posted photos of their cocks in their ads. One in particular caught my eye … half hard, with an aluminum can next to it, as a favorable comparison to its girth. I shrieked with disbelief, and showed it to my sister, who agreed it was preposterously huge.

“I know a girl who fucked a guy like that … she said it was EXACTLY like fucking a goddamn beer can!” We laughed, and made jokes about sending him to meet someone with a horse.

Then I saw an ad, no photo, entitled “Dom Male seeks true Sub female – m4w – 29″. It said, “I’m not heavy into pain but I am heavy into pleasure.” I wrote back, intrigued.

.  .  .

As I drove to meet him on the army base, my heart pounded and my throat was dry. I pulled my truck into the vistor’s parking area, and sat for a moment, as wildly aroused as I was terrified. I almost turned around and left.

.  .  .

We’d been corresponding by email and IM since I’d answered the ad. I’d asked him to send a photo, and he sent a snapshot of a huge man standing next to a truck, bald and smiling. I sent him a link to my flickr self-portaits.

I asked for a photo of his cock.

He sent the beer can photo I’d seen on craigslist.

A week and half later, I was laying half naked on my truck’s bench seat, parked on a snowed-in back road on an army base, and he shoved that massive cock up my ass.

.  .  .

My first email had asked him what his D/s likes and dislikes were … He didn’t fuck around. There was no “let’s meet for coffee and see if we click.” There was no pat-on-the-head reassuring chatter about the deeper spiritual meaning of domination games. There was no unspoken apology for wanting a woman to follow orders.

“…as for what I like to do with my subs […] I like a sub who enjoys having sex when and wherever I want. […] I want them to be willing to strip for me, play with their pussy how I say. I do like to tease them by making them wait to cum. I want my subs to enjoy trying to make me hard. […] I like a lot of teasing. I want to see my sub so hot and so horny that she is begging for my cock. Now I have and also enjoy telling my subs what to do. I will get into more detail after I hear back from you. Tell me what your likes are.”

.  .  .

I walked in to the visitors center to get my base pass. He looked up from behind the plexiglass barrier. Our eyes met for a moment and I tried to act casual, as my heart raced madly. I listened to him talking to the guys ahead of me in line, in a stern Texan voice. He was exactly what I don’t go for in a man … barrel-chested, Southern and military. A thick, black MP armband circled his bicep. For some reason, that really turned me on.

He’d already instructed me to come get my base pass, and then walk out and wait in my truck. No underwear, no bra. He would come out to meet me in the truck. My pants had to be loose enough to fit his hand down them. I unbuttoned them as soon as I got back in the cab.

.  .  .

I’ve never gotten off on “cybersex”. I could never take it seriously enough to stop laughing and get turned on.

After exchanging a few emails with him, I asked if he had IM …

him: are you naked?
me: I’m laying in bed naked, with my biggest toy inside your pussy.
him: did I say you could fuck yourself?
me: No.
him: get that toy out of my pussy
me: Sorry. I stopped.
me: The toy is on the foot of my bed.
him: good
me: Thank you. And I’m sorry.
him: you will be. remember that is my pussy now I let you fuck yourself for my pictures
me: OK, I understand.
him: I will let you rub your clit
him: THAT’S IT
him: I want my pussy unfucked by anything the night before you try and earn my cock

I don’t really understand how, but after five minutes online with him, I was more desperately aroused than half an hour of regular hands-on foreplay.

.  .  .

I felt exactly like I had years ago, the day I went skydiving, as I looked down at the ground from 10,000 feet in the air, knowing there was no turning back.

I waited in my truck, looked at my phone, filed my paperwork away, pulled my shirt down over my unzipped pants, glanced around the parking lot, and wondered how unusual it was for someone to sit in their truck in front of the visitors center for five minutes. Then he walked out of the building, stalked across the small lot, wrenched the door open and jumped in the passenger seat.

“Did you bring me what I wanted?”

I nodded. He scowled, put his hand down my pants and calmly shoved his fingers into me. I gasped for air, and forgot anyone might be looking.

“You’re a good little slut, aren’t you?”

He reached up my shirt and grabbed my breast hard, pinching the nipple while I bit my lip and whimpered.

That was the first time we met in person.

.  .  .

“How much time do you have?”

“I have to be out of here at five.”

“OK. Drive on to post.”

.  .  .

I drove through the base with his left hand down my pants, while he stroked himself with his right. I glanced over, and saw how massive he really was. He fingered my clit so perfectly my toes curled involuntarily. I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He directed me around the base, had me stop the truck on a side road.

“You can look at it.”

“Not while I’m driving,” I laughed nervously.

“Well you can look now.”

I glanced at his face, he smiled faintly. I looked down, and caught my breath.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

.  .  .

I’ve never been a size queen, especially with anal. My ex husband only fucked my ass a handful of times, because he was “too big” for me. All the anal toys I bought were small. And now, suddenly, all I wanted was to feel was this giant cock, fully hard, sliding into me without any hesitation.

When we first talked on IM, he told me to take my biggest dildo and start getting ‘his’ ass ready for him. I got my lube and eased it in, pulled back, nudged it the tiniest bit further … it took 5 minutes to work it all the way in. I almost came, but I wasn’t allowed to. I waited until the rush passed.

Within a few days, I could push my largest toy all the way inside in one smooth stroke. Within a week, I used it to warm up before I worked two medium size toys inside at once. The day I first met him, I spent 15 minutes fucking my ass with two dildos before leaving the house, slipping into a heavy trance, forgetting how afraid I was.

.  .  .

We finally pulled down a small, snowed-in road … more of a trail, really. Narrower than my truck, slipping in the snow, working my four wheel drive for all it’s worth. He told me to park between two trees. My hands shook on the steering wheel as he took off his overshirt, and pulled down his pants.

He told me to suck his cock … rested his hand on the back of my head, as I tried desperately to take it all in my mouth. I gagged hard and apologized as I sat up. He grabbed my face, pulled me towards him, told me to start jacking him off.

With one hand around my throat, and the other shoved down my pants, he kissed me harshly.

“You want that cock?”

“Yes”

“You think you deserve that cock?”

“I don’t … I don’t know”

“Well, I *know* you don’t deserve it yet, but you’re gonna get lucky today, ’cause you don’t have much time.”

He pushed me away and told me to take off my pants.

.  .  .

I sat on the edge of the bench seat, he stood between my legs, rubbing his cock up and down against my lips, pushing ever so slightly inside. I was gasping, not daring to meet his eyes. He stopped. I looked up.

“Wouldn’t it be mean if I just pulled out now?”

I laughed weakly, “… yes.”

“I wonder what I should do?”

My eyes dropped, and I tried to steady my breathing. As I glanced back at his face, he slammed his cock into me. I fell back, grabbing the seat to hold myself up. He was bigger than any toy I owned, and fucking me harder than anyone had in years. My head rolled back, and I looked out the back window, down the snowy trail.

“You keep those eyes on me. You’re my slut now. It doesn’t matter who sees you.”

I lifted my head again, my breath hissing between my teeth. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me harder onto his cock, pounding into me mercilessly. So overwhelming, I barely heard him when he told me to lay down.

“You want to come?”

“God yes.”

“You’d better ask right.”

“Please …”

I could feel myself so close to the edge, gasping, hanging on to the seat belt buckle with white knuckles. I didn’t hear what he said next.

“What?”

“Tell me you’re a cock whore.”

“I’m a cock whore …”

“That’s right.”

“… can I come?”

“Yes,” and he fucked me even harder. I closed my eyes and tried not to scream as the orgasm tore through my body.

.  .  .

He pulled himself out. I started to sit up.

“You get back down,” he growled, “My cock is soaked with your cum … now it’s going in your ass.”

I turned my head, remembered fucking my dildos that morning, and bit down on a mouthful of my leather jacket sleeve. He shoved himself into my ass in one long, slow stroke. I bit down harder, choking on each breath.

“I’m only half hard now. If that’s too much for you, you’re going to have to work on that ass some more.”

I moaned through my teeth, grabbed the steering wheel with one hand. My head was spinning as he started pumping faster. Nothing could have prepared me for ut. I felt myself almost coming again, but I couldn’t actually speak to ask permission.

.  .  .

“Now get up here and open your mouth.”

I sat up, looked down to see his cock in his hand. I bent over, open mouthed, and felt cum hit my lip. With my mouth over his head I swallowed the rest down as fast as it came. As I straightened up, I wiped my lip and licked the last of it off my finger.

“That’s just a little taste of what you’re in for,” he said, with a laugh in his voice.

I grinned, shook my head, dazed, and looked up at him. He smiled, a sweet boyish smile.

“Get your pants on now, and you can still make your time.”


 
 
 

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