you say pervert like it's a bad thing?

If you message me a 1 word message it will get deleted! I'm an over 40's owned sub switch, been in the fetish lifestyle on and off for longer than I care to remember. @PowellChief on Twitter. Pics and vids I post are not my own, 18+ NSFW.

[threesomefuntime]

[jukeboxemcsa]

Mandy Needs Her Life Coach More Than Ever

"So let's see how you've been doing on those self-control exercises," Dale said without preamble, patting the couch across from him and giving Mandy an expectant look that did nothing to help the constant throb of lust between her thighs. Mandy didn't normally get off on being submissive--if anything, she thought she liked to top in the bedroom right up until she met the life coach Giada recommended and discovered just how disordered her attitude to sex truly was--but something about the way the older man ordered her around with a warm and compassionate smile on his face just made her pussy straight up fucking leak.

Which was kind of a problem when she was about to show it to him. Mandy awkwardly slipped her sundress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out of it before peeling her bra and panties off and adding them to the pile. She'd hoped Dale wouldn't notice the wet spot on the crotch of her underwear, but he just let out a quiet tsking sound and she knew he didn't miss a thing. "So it looks like you might have had some struggles this week," he offered, even as Mandy sat down on the couch and spread her legs to reveal a cunt so slick and messy it was practically drooling. Something about the way he looked at it made Mandy feel meek and deferential in a way she wouldn't to any other man.

"I, um--I didn't cum," she blurted out, so utterly consumed with the need to please and impress the older man that she didn't even think twice about volunteering the most intimate information to him. There was just something so trustworthy about Dale, so inviting and welcoming and filled with sympathy, that simply looking into his warm hazel eyes made Mandy feel like he was the most important person in the world. Sometimes she forgot how charismatic he was when she left his office, but now she was here and she was naked and she wanted to be the perfect student of his ineffable wisdom all over again. He was… god, he was solving problems Mandy never even knew she had.

He leaned in, pulling apart Mandy's labia and running his thumb over her swollen clit. "But you have been rubbing it a lot, haven't you?" he asked, and Mandy gave a shuddering nod while her hips reflexively bucked into his touch. "Mandy, we've talked about this. The more you rub, the weaker you get and the more vulnerable to manipulation you become. If you're constantly playing with your pussy, your mind is going to turn to mush and someone's going to sucker you into doing things you never intended to do. Being constantly wet like this, it's like a state of hypnosis for someone like you. It makes you gullible and malleable and easy to control." Mandy wished her pussy didn't clench when she heard that. She wished even more that Dale hadn't seen it.

But he did. "Okay," he sighed, his tone still loving but also lovingly exasperated. "I can see we're going to need to take steps to get you away from potentially harmful influences until we can get this issue under control. Mandy, I'd like you to dismiss your current management team, and let me handle your business operations for a while. Just until you're not so constantly horny. Just until we can make sure you're thinking clearly. Does that sound okay, sweetie?" He kept circling his thumb over her clit while he spoke, keeping her pussy constantly simmering on the edge of climax, and all Mandy could think as she stared into his hazel eyes was that if she said yes then maybe she would get to cum. And as unfounded as that notion was, it made her more than happy to agree with whatever Dale suggested.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Michael Points Out the Facts

"I can't help but notice that you let me tie your wrists together," Michael said mildly, as though they were just discussing the weather and his fingers weren't busily sawing in and out of Aurora's wet cunt. "That's kind of curious, don't you think? I mean, you struggled, yes, but you didn't start struggling until I already had your hands bound and the ropes looped around that little hook on the side of the coffee table. The one you asked me about, Rory. Isn't that kind of curious?" Rory didn't answer. She couldn't, not with a strip of duct tape covering her lips and her panties jammed into her mouth.

"And your clothes," Michael continued, his voice bland and pleasant and yet somehow easily audible over the sound of Aurora's muffled grunts. "I mean, yes, I did cut them off you with a pair of fabric scissors, and yes, you did kind of beg me to stop, but--well, it is kind of interesting that you came over to my apartment wearing the cheapest, most disposable outfit you have, isn't it? And they're all new clothes, too. Almost like you bought them knowing they were going to get shredded and tossed in the trash by the time the night was over." Aurora's brow furrowed as she tried to remember her exact process in selecting her clothes, or even just her reason for the visit, but Michael was finger-fucking her very hard and it made holding onto a train of thought something of a struggle.

"And I mean, it wasn't like you worked very hard to stop me, even with your hands trapped like that," he chuckled, sounding more like he'd just read a particularly amusing joke in Reader's Digest than he did like someone who was pistoning two fingers in and out of his neighbor's sopping pussy. "You didn't yell, even though the walls in this building are pretty thin and someone would probably have heard you, and you didn't kick out at me--you just sort of wriggled and whimpered while I bound your thighs to your calves and tied your legs to the corners of the coffee table to display your cunt to me. What do you think that says about you, Rory, hmm? What does that tell us about where your head is at?"

He lapsed into an expectant silence, one broken only by the sloppy squishing noises of two fingers pumping in and out of a cunt so wet it was dripping onto the floor, but of course Rory could only mewl and whine through her panties so he was forced to continue. "I think it tells me that your deep self wants to be my bound and helpless slut. I think the hypnotic suggestions found something powerful all the way down in the center of your subconscious mind that craves to be dominated, and when I told you what was going to happen the next time you came over you got so wet and horny that you didn't even try to fight it. I think you only forget what happens when you're here because it makes you feel that much more weaker to be surprised by your submission, and you're just going to repeat this surrender again and again for me until you're totally mine. Don't you?"

Rory still couldn't talk. But she could nod, meekly and submissively with her eyes unable to meet his gaze, and that's exactly what happened as she felt another orgasm rip through her brain.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[shinysensations]

[badsam4u]

[whateverithinkitssexy]

Latex model with stop scrolling factor 🖤🖤🖤

[henningholm68]

Mistress Honey Punch.

[kims-blabberings]

Summit Reward

The view from the top was spectacular—rolling hills painted in autumn gold, the distant glint of a lake, sky stretching endless and blue. Mike had to admit, grudgingly, that it was beautiful.

His calves burned. His back ached. And he'd sweated through his favorite hiking shirt.

"You're thinking about how much you hate this right now, aren't you?" Colleen asked, catching his expression as she adjusted her ponytail. A knowing smile played on her lips.

"I'm thinking about how much I love you," Mike deflected, "for dragging me up a mountain at six in the morning."

She laughed—that warm, full sound that had made him fall for her twelve years ago. "Liar. You've been checking your watch since mile two."

He couldn't argue with that.

They were alone at the summit. The parking lot had been nearly empty when they started, and the weekday morning crowd apparently had better things to do than climb three miles uphill. A wooden bench overlooked the valley. A weathered sign pointed toward trails Mike had no intention of ever exploring again.

Colleen stepped closer, her hiking boots crunching on loose gravel. She reached up and brushed a strand of dark hair from her forehead, leaving a faint smudge of dirt across her temple. Even sweaty and disheveled, she looked good. The fitted tank top she'd chosen clung to her curves, and those compression leggings left nothing to the imagination.

"You know," she said, her voice dropping, "I really appreciate you coming with me today. I know this isn't your thing."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. You've been a good sport." She moved closer still, until they were nearly touching. "I think you deserve a reward."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "A reward? Like what, you're buying breakfast on the way home?"

Colleen's smile turned sharp. Something sparked in her brown eyes—playful, hungry.

"Better."

Her hands went to the waistband of his shorts.

"Colleen—what are you—" He glanced around frantically. "We're in public. Anyone could—"

"Then you'd better keep watch," she said, sinking to her knees on the hard dirt. "Consider this motivation for next time."

The ground was probably uncomfortable. Rocks and roots dug into her knees through her leggings. She didn't seem to care. Her fingers worked his zipper down with practiced efficiency, reaching inside to pull him free.

Mike was already half-hard. He couldn't help it. Twelve years of marriage and she still had this effect on him—this ability to turn his blood to fire with nothing but a look, a touch, a suggestion.

She stroked him once, twice, watching him respond in her hand. The mountain air was cool on his exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of her palm.

"Someone could come up the trail," he said weakly.

"Then they'd get a show." She licked her lips. "Or maybe they'd turn around and let me finish."

Before he could protest further, she took him into her mouth.

Mike's head fell back. His hands found her hair—not pushing, just resting, anchoring himself as wet heat engulfed him. She started slow, her tongue tracing the underside of his shaft, her lips sealed tight around his girth. She knew exactly how he liked it. Years of practice had taught her every sensitive spot, every rhythm that drove him crazy.

She pulled back to tongue at the head, tasting the precum already leaking from the tip. Her hand worked the base while her mouth focused on the top, and Mike bit his lip to keep from groaning too loudly.

"Jesus, Colleen—"

She hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. Then she took him deeper, relaxing her throat, and his grip tightened in her hair.

The sounds were obscene—wet, slick noises echoing off the empty mountainside. A bird called somewhere in the distance. Wind rustled through the trees below. And Colleen sucked his cock like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Mike risked a glance down. Her eyes were closed, her expression focused and blissful. A thin line of spit connected her lips to his shaft when she pulled back. She looked up at him through her lashes, and the raw desire in her gaze nearly undid him.

"You're trying to kill me," he managed.

She responded by taking him to the root.

His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing deeper, and she accepted it without complaint. Her throat worked around him as she fought her gag reflex, and he felt the tightness of it, the impossible heat. One of her hands cupped his balls, rolling them gently, while the other braced against his thigh.

The pressure built at the base of his spine. His legs trembled—not from the hike this time.

"Close," he warned. "Colleen, I'm—"

She didn't pull back. If anything, she worked faster, her head bobbing in a relentless rhythm. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, adding friction that sent sparks behind his eyes.

Mike came with a strangled groan, his whole body tensing as he spilled into her mouth. She swallowed around him, taking everything, milking him through each pulse until he was spent and shaking.

When she finally pulled back, she licked her lips and smiled up at him. A tiny drop of cum clung to the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with her thumb, then sucked it clean.

"Still hate hiking?" she asked.

Mike laughed breathlessly. He was still trying to remember how to stand. "Ask me again after my legs work."

She rose gracefully, brushing dirt from her knees. "I'm thinking we do this trail again next weekend. There's a waterfall another mile out."

"Another mile?"

"Think of the reward at the end."

Mike tucked himself back into his shorts, still dazed. The view really was spectacular. But he suspected he'd remember Colleen on her knees a lot longer than he'd remember the autumn foliage.

"Fine," he said. "Next weekend."

Her smile was triumphant. "I knew you'd see it my way."

[thepraline]

belted 🐇

[jukeboxemcsa]

Gilly Has a Problem and Miss Nance Has a Solution

"I, um… I have kind of a problem," Gilly mumbled, practically swallowing her words in her efforts to keep quiet so no one else in the sorority would hear her. It was late at night, and she was out in the hallway even though the door to Miss Nance's room hung open, and she didn't want to make a big disturbance because the problem she had was personal and intimate and she'd die of embarrassment if anyone other than the… the housing director, she thought, stumbling over the colloquial phrase 'sorority mom' even in the privacy of her own head… ever heard about it.

Miss Nance sat up in her bed, her sheet sliding away to reveal a pair of pendulous breasts that immediately caught and held Gilly's gaze, and favored her with a sympathetic smile. "Well, why don't you come in and tell me all about it," she murmured, her voice as soft and sweet as the nectar of a pitcher plant, and she slid the covers aside completely to expose her nude body and patted a spot on the mattress right between her spread legs. Gilly couldn't help letting out a quiet, chuffing grunt of arousal, and she felt like she was moving underwater when she stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her before slipping out of her robe to walk naked to another woman's bed.

"It's, um, I'm--I've got these, uh, urges," she muttered, and she felt the oddest sense of familiarity as the words escaped her lips--it was almost like she'd heard them before, like there was a script inside her head that she didn't know about until she spoke the words and discovered she was really only reciting and not thinking for herself. Her legs spread wider and wider the more she tried to think about it, and she was acutely aware of the warmth of Miss Nance's bare breasts against her back, and she struggled to remember exactly why she thought it would be a good idea to come and talk to her sorority m--to her housing director about a bad case of wet pussy but then the other woman hooked her ankles around Gilly's knees and everything inside her head got mushy.

"Well, I think it's a good thing you came to me, dear," Miss Nance purred, putting her left arm around Gilly with her hand resting squarely on Gilly's breasts and reaching down with her right arm to caress Gilly's slick and messy cunt. "I know you girls get that kind of urge sometimes, and it's so nice to know you trust me enough to bring that kind of problem to me so I can make it all better." She pressed hard over Gilly's clit to emphasize certain words, and already Gilly could feel herself dropping into a kind of fugue state as the arousal she'd been fighting all night simply reared its head and swallowed Gilly's mind whole. She couldn't make herself think, only feel, and it felt so good to listen and obey.

But it only fully clicked into place when Miss Nance cooed, "Mommy always makes it better, doesn't she, sweetie?" and Gilly let out a strangled whine of pure ecstasy as she came on the older woman's fingers. She was being trained, she realized, hypnotized and conditioned and programmed to obey, and she knew she wasn't alone in her submission because she'd seen the other women in her sorority walking out of Miss Nance's bedroom with their faces flushed and their eyes glassy. But she always forgot, because her brainwashing made it easy to forget, and she was going to end this night forgetting everything all over again beyond the unswayable conviction that she needed to be a good girl for her sorority mom.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[sakurapandaa]

[henrikas-diaries]

[kims-blabberings]

The Locker Room Queen

Becky reigned supreme over the freshman class, and she made sure every single one of them knew it. The locker room was her kingdom—a damp, tiled domain where she held absolute power. She'd perfected her routine over years: waiting, watching, selecting her prey with the patience of a seasoned predator.

Today's victim had caught her eye weeks ago. A mousy little thing with auburn hair that stuck to her flushed cheeks after showering. The girl always rushed through the locker room, shoulders hunched, eyes darting nervously—exactly the kind of vulnerability that made Becky's pulse quicken.

Becky stripped slowly after her own shower, letting the humid air kiss her bare skin. She didn't bother with a towel. Why would she? Her body was a weapon, toned from years of swimming and volleyball, and she wanted everyone to see exactly what she could do with it.

She positioned herself by the row of lockers where the freshmen changed, pretending to dig through her gym bag while tracking the girl's movements from her peripheral vision.

There.

The girl emerged from the shower area, a thin towel wrapped around her small frame. Water dripped down her legs, pooling on the concrete floor. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her locker combination, the metal clicking uselessly under her nervous fingers.

Becky watched her remove the towel.

The girl bent over to retrieve something from her bag—shampoo, maybe, or a brush—and that's when Becky moved. Fast. Silent. Predatory.

She slammed the girl against the lockers with a wet smack, their naked bodies pressing together as Becky pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. The cold metal bit into the girl's shoulder blades, and she let out a sharp gasp that echoed through the tiled room.

"Shh," Becky whispered against her ear, lips brushing the shell of it. "Don't make a sound unless I tell you to."

The girl's eyes went wide—pale green and swimming with tears already. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Just short, panicked breaths that made her chest heave against Becky's.

"You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" Becky's free hand slid down the girl's trembling torso, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip. "I've seen you scurrying past me in the hallways. Looking at your feet like a good little mouse."

Her fingers found the junction of the girl's thighs—smooth, freshly shaved, still slick from the shower. Becky cupped her pussy possessively, feeling the heat radiating from her core despite the cool air.

"This belongs to me now."

The girl whimpered, a broken sound that made several other students freeze mid-change. Heads turned. Eyes widened. But nobody moved. Nobody ever moved when Becky was feeding.

Becky's middle finger slid between the girl's folds, finding her entrance and pushing inside without hesitation. The girl's body jerked, her back arching away from the lockers as much as Becky's grip would allow.

"Look at them," Becky commanded, nodding toward the small crowd that had gathered at a safe distance. "Look at everyone watching you get your little cunt pumped."

The girl's face flushed crimson, tears spilling down her cheeks as she turned her head. A group of sophomores stood frozen near the benches, towels clutched to their chests. Two juniors watched from the mirror above the sinks, their expressions caught between horror and fascination. Even the freshman who'd been brave enough to glance over quickly looked away.

"Please," the girl whispered, her voice cracking. "Please stop."

Becky added a second finger, stretching her open with deliberate slowness. She curled them upward, finding the rough patch of her front wall and rubbing it in tight circles.

"Stop? But your body doesn't want me to stop." Becky's thumb found the girl's clit, swollen and peeking out from its hood. "Feel how wet you're getting? Your pussy's crying even more than your eyes are."

The girl sobbed openly now, her body betraying her with each stroke of Becky's fingers. Her hips twitched involuntarily, grinding down onto Becky's hand despite her obvious shame.

"That's it. Ride my hand like the desperate little slut you are."

Becky pumped her fingers faster, the wet sounds of her thrusting filling the locker room. Squelching. Obscene. Unmistakable. The girl's inner walls clenched around her knuckles, gripping her like she was trying to pull her deeper.

"You're going to come for me," Becky announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Right here. Right now. And when you do, you're going to scream my name so everyone knows who owns this tight little freshman cunt."

The girl shook her head frantically, but her body told a different story. Her thighs were trembling, her stomach clenching, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Becky could feel her walls fluttering, feel the telltale tightening that signaled her approaching orgasm.

"Say it."

"I—I can't—"

"Say it, or I'll bend you over that bench and fuck you with my whole fist until the entire school hears you screaming."

The girl's eyes darted to the bench in question, then back to Becky's face. Her lips parted, trembling.

"Becky," she whispered.

"Louder."

"Becky!"

"Good girl." Becky slammed her fingers in deep, grinding her palm against the girl's clit. "Now come. Come for your queen."

The girl's orgasm hit her like a wave. Her whole body seized, back arching violently as her pussy spasmed around Becky's fingers. She let out a broken wail—half sob, half moan—that bounced off the tile walls and filled the room. Her juices gushed over Becky's hand, dripping down her wrist and splattering onto the floor below.

Becky didn't stop pumping until every last tremor had passed. Only when the girl went limp against the lockers, held up only by Becky's grip on her wrists, did she slowly withdraw her fingers.

She held them up to the girl's face—glistening, coated in her release.

"Clean them."

The girl hesitated for just a moment before opening her mouth. Becky pushed her fingers inside, watching as the freshman tasted herself, her tongue working between Becky's knuckles.

"Good girl," Becky repeated, pulling her fingers free and wiping them on the girl's cheek. "Now get dressed and get out. And tomorrow, you'll be waiting for me by this locker after practice. Understood?"

The girl nodded frantically, tears still streaming down her face.

Becky released her wrists and stepped back, letting her crumple to the floor. She grabbed her gym bag and walked toward the exit, completely naked, completely unbothered.

The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea.

[kims-blabberings]

The Massage

She'd just stepped out of the shower when she heard the knock. Her brain felt fuzzy from the hot water, thoughts moving slowly through her head like honey. She wrapped herself in a towel and opened the door without checking who it was.

He stood there holding a bottle of lotion, smiling in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Got a special delivery for you," he said. "Full body treatment. Complimentary."

She blinked at him, water still dripping from her hair. "Oh. Um. Okay."

She stepped aside to let him in, not questioning why he had lotion or how he'd known she'd just showered.

"Here's how this works," he said, guiding her toward the bed with a hand on her lower back. "You lie down. I apply the treatment. Very simple."

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

She settled onto the bed face-first, and he pulled the towel loose but left it draped over her. His hands started at her shoulders, working down her spine with practiced efficiency.

"You're very tense," he observed. "Don't worry. I know exactly what you need."

His voice had an edge to it, but she couldn't quite place what was wrong. Everything felt soft and warm and nice.

He pushed the towel up without asking. Her bare ass was exposed to the cool air, but she didn't protest. It felt normal somehow. Like this was just what massages were.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Just relax. Don't think."

His hands worked down her legs, then back up her inner thighs. Each stroke pushed her legs wider apart. She let them fall open, staring blankly at the headboard.

"That's it," he said. "So obedient."

His thumbs brushed between her legs. She felt a strange warmth building but couldn't articulate what it meant.

"You're getting wet," he observed, his tone amused. "Your body knows what it wants even if that pretty head doesn't."

He stood and removed his pants. She watched him over her shoulder, eyes unfocused.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, words slurring slightly.

"Getting more comfortable," he said. "Need better access for the deep tissue work."

He straddled her thighs, his hard cock pressing against her ass through his underwear. His weight pinned her to the mattress.

"See? Much better."

His hands returned to her body, kneading her ass with deliberate pressure, spreading her cheeks apart. She felt exposed and vulnerable but couldn't summon the will to move.

He leaned forward, his chest against her back, lips brushing her ear.

"I've been watching you for a long time," he whispered. "Watching you walk around in those short skirts. Watching you bend over. Watching you forget to close your blinds."

She shivered beneath him.

"Didn't think I noticed, did you?" His hand slid between her legs. "But I notice everything about you."

His fingers pushed inside her. She gasped, body arching.

"So tight," he groaned. "So fucking wet. You don't even understand what's happening, do you?"

She shook her head slowly against the pillow.

"Perfect."

He removed his underwear and positioned himself at her entrance. She felt the pressure but couldn't form words to ask what was happening.

"Last chance to say no," he said, though his tone suggested he didn't care either way. "Tell me to stop."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her thoughts swam, unable to grasp the situation.

"I thought so."

He pushed forward, burying himself inside her in one brutal thrust.

She cried out into the pillow.

He fucked her with deliberate cruelty, each thrust designed to remind her of her helplessness. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back.

"This is what you're made for," he growled against her ear. "Being used. Being filled. You were built for this."

His other hand reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles as he pounded into her.

"Come on my cock like the dumb little toy you are."

Her body responded before her mind could catch up. She came with a broken moan, clenching around him as pleasure crashed through her empty head.

He followed moments later, burying himself deep as he came inside her.

He pulled out slowly, leaving her trembling and confused on the mattress.

"Same time tomorrow," he said, already dressing. "Be ready for me."

She nodded weakly, still face-down on the bed, his cum leaking out of her.

"Good girl."

The door closed behind him. She stared at the wall, unable to understand what had just happened or why she was already anticipating tomorrow.

[kims-blabberings]

Kitchen Encounter

She padded barefoot into the kitchen, the cool tile against her soles the only sound in the dark house. Her boyfriend's oversized t-shirt hung loosely on her frame, barely reaching mid-thigh. She'd stayed over plenty of times before, but something about tonight felt different.

The refrigerator light spilled across the floor when she opened it, and she bent down to grab a water bottle.

"Thirsty?"

She gasped, spinning around. Marcus stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, wearing nothing but basketball shorts. His eyes traveled down her body slowly.

"Marcus, you scared me." She pressed a hand to her chest, laughing nervously.

"Sorry." He didn't look sorry. He stepped closer. "Tyler's out cold?"

"Yeah. He sleeps through anything."

"Good."

The word hung between them. She should've moved. Should've gone back to the bedroom. Instead, she watched Marcus approach until he was right in front of her, trapping her against the counter.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek. "He doesn't appreciate you."

"That's not—"

"It's true." His thumb traced her jawline. "I see how he looks at his phone more than you. How he checks out other girls when you're right there."

She blinked. She'd noticed that too, but she'd never admitted it. "Marcus..."

"I wouldn't do that." His hand slid down to her neck, gentle but firm. "I'd look at you. Only you."

Her pulse raced. This was wrong. Tyler was sleeping twenty feet away. But Marcus's touch made her skin tingle, and his words made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in months.

"You're his roommate," she whispered.

"I know." He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "That's why I've waited so long. Watching you walk around here in those tiny shorts. Hearing you through the wall." His grip tightened slightly on her neck. "I can't wait anymore."

His mouth found hers, and she melted into the kiss. He tasted like mint and something darker. His hands dropped to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt how hard he already was through his shorts.

"Marcus, Tyler—"

"Can't hear anything." He lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her spread thighs. "He's passed out. Trust me."

His hands pushed the t-shirt up her hips, revealing she wore nothing underneath. He groaned at the sight.

"Fuck, you're perfect."

She whimpered when his fingers traced her slit, already wet. He teased her opening before sliding one finger inside, then two, pumping slowly while his thumb circled her clit.

"You're so tight," he breathed against her neck. "Has he even been taking care of you?"

She shook her head, unable to form words. It had been weeks since Tyler touched her like this.

Marcus pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean, eyes never leaving hers. Then he shoved his shorts down, freeing his cock. It was bigger than Tyler's, thicker, and she stared at it with wide eyes.

"Touch it."

She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly. He groaned, head falling back.

"Good girl."

He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside in one smooth thrust. She cried out, and he covered her mouth with his hand.

"Shh. Gotta be quiet." He started moving, hips snapping against hers. "Can you do that? Can you stay quiet while I fuck you?"

She nodded against his palm, eyes fluttering shut. The counter edge dug into her back as he drove into her repeatedly, each thrust deeper than the last. His free hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.

"You feel so good," he grunted. "Better than I imagined. So fucking wet for me."

His pace quickened. The kitchen filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing. She bit her lip to keep from moaning too loud.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Her eyes snapped open. His gaze was intense, hungry.

"Who's fucking you right now?"

"You," she breathed. "You are."

"What's my name?"

"Marcus."

"Again."

"Marcus—oh god—Marcus!"

He clamped his hand over her mouth again, muffling her cries as he pounded into her. The pressure built in her core, tighter and tighter until she shattered around him, body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

He followed seconds later, burying himself deep and spilling inside her with a guttural groan. His forehead dropped to her shoulder as they both caught their breath.

When he finally pulled out, his cum dripped onto the counter. He watched it with satisfaction.

"Next time," he said, tucking himself back into his shorts, "I'm bending you over the table."

She sat there, legs still spread, t-shirt bunched around her waist, thoroughly fucked and already wanting more.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, grabbing his own water from the fridge.

She nodded weakly.

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead like they were a normal couple and walked out.

She stayed on the counter for another minute, heart pounding, wondering how she'd explain the bruises on her hips to Tyler—then realizing he probably wouldn't even notice.

[thepraline]

I love the flash of titty popped out

well, here's the throw-away gif from the drafts 🫣 (I had planned to bounce the other one completely out, but the strap was squeezing too tight !)

[loserslife666-deactivated201206]

[alexandhissubmissivepet-deactiv]

-Pet

[cakeneat]

Two hours into the session it was clear that she’s never been more desperate for a man to fuck her..

He was only getting started though; he wanted her to break.

He wanted to own my wife.

[jukeboxemcsa]

Emily Watches From the Floor

"Suh… Sabrina?" The moment Emily spoke, she knew it was a mistake--Sabrina didn't react to the sound of her voice, at least not in any way Emily could see, but the handsome Black man who was busily fucking her face turned to look at Emily and something in his eyes made her realize she was about to wind up just like her prone and stupefied friend. The costume Sabrina wore was mostly on the floor, and Sabrina kept staring cross-eyed and befuddled at the cock halfway down her throat, and Emily knew her well enough to know that none of this was normal for her. Which meant this man, this stranger was somehow able to manipulate her into--

She didn't even finish the thought before the man pulled out of Sabrina's mouth and sprang across the room in three swift strides to put his right hand on top of Emily's head while his left hand gripped her wrist. "You must be Emily," he said, beginning to swing her arm from side to side while he rotated her head in small, lazy circles, gently but firmly until her entire body began to feel like a doll being played with. "She told me about you, she said you were weak and drowsy, weak and drowsy and limp and just look into my eyes and SLEEP." He yanked her forward as he intoned the final word, and Emily's overwhelmed brain took in the massive amount of multi-sensory stimulation in a single flood and simply collapsed into his arms as it all became too much for her. She sagged into his grip, and from there he took her and pulled her limp form over to the bed where Sabrina waited for them.

"Eyes open, still deep," he growled, and Emily's eyelids fluttered open to find that her new supine position on the rug gave her a unique perspective on Sabrina's sloppy blowjob. She could see the thick shaft sliding back into her best friend's mouth, watch it pushing in and out as the stranger towered over her heavy, immobile body, and notice every detail of the way his balls quivered and bounced with every urgent thrust. Sabrina's tits hung over the edge of the bed, her puffy pink nipples broad and stiff, and Emily discovered there was something so fascinating about the entire tableau to her hypnotized mind that she couldn't stir herself from her trance enough to really think about what was happening. Every time she tried, the motion simply captivated her, and even the spattering of drool that landed on Emily's forehead every few seconds wasn't enough to wake her now.

"Deeper and deeper, deeper and… nnhhh… deeper," the man chanted, and Emily's lips moved thoughtlessly to recite the words right along with him. She felt impossibly passive, weak and drowsy and helpless, and what made her even more vulnerable was the knowledge that he could have put her on the bed and she would have swallowed his cock the same as Sabrina. He chose to place her beneath them, though, to demonstrate to her just how subordinate she was in the new hierarchy they'd established, and Emily sighed languidly in the sure and certain knowledge that her friend wasn't going to be able to swallow their Master's entire load. It was going to gush out of her mouth and onto Emily's face, cementing her subjugation once and for all… and to her shock and dismay, Emily realized she was looking forward to receiving it.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)