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farmbitchone 5 years ago
All you need to know about the other guy is that heās a filthy bastard who is all about the fucking. Cocky, in all ways.
Itās always difficult to pinpoint exactly how these things start. My memory jumps from a chilled evening amongst friends to my boyfriend moaning in ecstasy as his friendās cock ploughed his arse deeply and beautifully. Well I say ecstasy, there was more than a hint of pain in there ā as is often the case with anal sex. Not enough to completely stop the action, just enough to remind him that heās being thoroughly violated in the dirtiest of ways.
A range of scenes, feelings, facial expressions and noises go through my mind when I recall that night. The night I watched a man fuck my boyfriend up the arse.
He was told in no uncertain terms to get on all fours. Fingers lubed up his arse entrance ā and I, fascinated, watched someone other than me give my boyfriend such intimate attention. Fingers slipping in and out of his hole ā and that squelching, sexual in-out finger-fuckery giving birth to his first moans and groans of pleasure. Seeing him physically relax into the moment, the feelings, and give his body over for this man to fuck. Face already blissed out, eyes closed and god knows what going through his mind other than fuck me now.
His friend decided my boyfriend was ready enough. I watched, entranced, holding my breath as he expertly re-stiffened his cock one-handed. His other, the butt-filthy and lubed hand, rested on my manās buttock. Holding him, ready for mounting. Like some wank sleeve he was about to ejaculate his pent-up need into.
The tip of his sizeable and impressively hard cock was now exposed, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny head after his quick preparatory tug. Both hands held on to my boyfriendās sides now, as my man remained in position on all fours undoubtedly bracing himself for invasion. His friendās hands pulled his cheeks apart slightly, letting him position his cock tip right on that puckered, lube-coated entrance.
The guy pushed. Not a fast, deep, sudden ramming. Just a gentle nudge to get the tip of his cock inside my man. It was then I heard my boyfriend cry out for the first (but definitely not the last) time that night. A strangled, conflicted cry combining all the pain, horror and aghastness of oh-my-god stop with all the sweet delight, satisfaction and need of for fuckās sake, donāt stop.
The filthy bastard just smiled. The wicked and evil smile of a man who knows he has his prey right where he wants him, and heās going to squeeze out & enjoy every ounce of perverted pleasure.
He pushed some more. I saw my boyfriendās hands, then. The flash of skin as his nails clawed into the pillow, which he also used to muffle his second piteous, and clit-tingling, cry. His body betrayed him though. Moans escaped his lips; louder then, as he couldnāt help but throw his head back as the slow-but-certain arse fucking continued.
Itās always difficult to pinpoint exactly how these things start. My memory jumps from a chilled evening amongst friends to my boyfriend moaning in ecstasy as his friendās cock ploughed his arse deeply and beautifully. Well I say ecstasy, there was more than a hint of pain in there ā as is often the case with anal sex. Not enough to completely stop the action, just enough to remind him that heās being thoroughly violated in the dirtiest of ways.
A range of scenes, feelings, facial expressions and noises go through my mind when I recall that night. The night I watched a man fuck my boyfriend up the arse.
He was told in no uncertain terms to get on all fours. Fingers lubed up his arse entrance ā and I, fascinated, watched someone other than me give my boyfriend such intimate attention. Fingers slipping in and out of his hole ā and that squelching, sexual in-out finger-fuckery giving birth to his first moans and groans of pleasure. Seeing him physically relax into the moment, the feelings, and give his body over for this man to fuck. Face already blissed out, eyes closed and god knows what going through his mind other than fuck me now.
His friend decided my boyfriend was ready enough. I watched, entranced, holding my breath as he expertly re-stiffened his cock one-handed. His other, the butt-filthy and lubed hand, rested on my manās buttock. Holding him, ready for mounting. Like some wank sleeve he was about to ejaculate his pent-up need into.
The tip of his sizeable and impressively hard cock was now exposed, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny head after his quick preparatory tug. Both hands held on to my boyfriendās sides now, as my man remained in position on all fours undoubtedly bracing himself for invasion. His friendās hands pulled his cheeks apart slightly, letting him position his cock tip right on that puckered, lube-coated entrance.
The guy pushed. Not a fast, deep, sudden ramming. Just a gentle nudge to get the tip of his cock inside my man. It was then I heard my boyfriend cry out for the first (but definitely not the last) time that night. A strangled, conflicted cry combining all the pain, horror and aghastness of oh-my-god stop with all the sweet delight, satisfaction and need of for fuckās sake, donāt stop.
The filthy bastard just smiled. The wicked and evil smile of a man who knows he has his prey right where he wants him, and heās going to squeeze out & enjoy every ounce of perverted pleasure.
He pushed some more. I saw my boyfriendās hands, then. The flash of skin as his nails clawed into the pillow, which he also used to muffle his second piteous, and clit-tingling, cry. His body betrayed him though. Moans escaped his lips; louder then, as he couldnāt help but throw his head back as the slow-but-certain arse fucking continued.
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