I must be getting brave: here is another piece of erotica featuring people who at potentially going to read it. This isn’t the story I expected to write tonight, but right now – when I’m a little bit tipsy and very horny – it’s the only one I can think of…
Tonight, you won’t come in and find me like this on your sofa. You won’t see me trussed up, a present for you, a toy to be used. My gag in, my mouth forced open and drool spilling down my face. My hands tied together, cuffs just a little too tight, so I can’t touch my clit. And the dildo – the big, thick dildo that scares me a little – you won’t see it’s tip pushing just inside me, and see me wriggle as I try to get more of it into my cunt.
Tonight, you won’t tease me. You won’t inspect me, pinching and prodding at my flesh. You won’t laugh together, discussing how I should be used. Planning what you’re going to do to your little toy. There won’t be sharp smacks to my inner thighs when I buck and twist under your hands; a warning that a greedy little toy will get punished, not fucked.
Tonight, one of you won’t pull the dildo out entirely, making me groan, and use your fingers to test how wet I am. One of you won’t hold out those dripping fingers for the other to see, and they in turn won’t take them in their mouth, looking at me as they suck the juices of your fingers. You won’t see how much I wish I could speak, so I could beg for your touch, for something – anything – in my aching cunt.
Tonight, you won’t ram the dildo into my cunt, not caring if the strangled moan I make is of pain or of pleasure. You won’t pull it out, delighting in the drawn out whimper I make as my cunt clenches around nothing. You won’t take turns to thrust it in and out slowly, watching my yearning expression, the other twisting my nipples and saying how cute I look when I’m squirming and desperate for something on my clit.
Tonight, you won’t use me. You won’t share me between you, seeing what sounds you can draw from my gagged mouth as you cause sensations in my bound body. There will be no games, no taunting. You won’t call me a pretty little fuck toy, a greedy little slut, as you play with me. There will be no fingers or cocks fucking my cunt, or pushed through the ring of my gag so I can taste my own arousal.
Tonight, the one of you I had it with won’t remember the conversation we had all those months ago. the messages you sent but I remember clearly even now because of how much your words made me squirm. You won’t tell the other I admitted that I wanted you both to use me as a fuck toy, one you take on holiday. You won’t describe how I’d have to sleep naked between you, ready to be sleepily played with in the middle of the night. You won’t whisper to each other, your delighted grins giving away where I’ll be sleeping tonight.
Tonight, I won’t get FUCKED.
Tonight, you won’t see the wet spot on your sofa, where I made a mess when I came, thinking about. At least – I hope you won’t…
Tonight’s post is brought to you by the fact I really wish there was a plural word for ‘you’ in English. Apart from when specifically specified, I am using the plural form throughout this post. Image, as always, sourced through Pixabay.