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same as mine: a bulge is pulsing at the front of your trousers, and
it's even bigger than I had remembered. You reach to adjust it,
but the subtle look in your eyes sends a message I was hoping to
read. "No, you don't, cowboy, that mustang's mine to tame!" I say,
and, grabbing your soiled red bandanna, I join your hands over your
head, elbows bent at your face, and tie them together to a small
thick metal ring in the headboard. Your look has turned to relief.
Did you really believe I'd fergit the nuances of our needs? Fergit
'em? Hell, I've played each one over a thousand times in detail as
I pleasured myself in this bed! I grab at the legs of your trousers
and you raise your hips as I tug. The leather grabs at the sweat of
your body and it's difficult to pull them off, but slowly they
yield, and your dark blond thatch of pubic hair comes into
view...the pants are caught on the jut of your asscheeks, but a tug
there frees them, and now all that's restraining them is your hard
tentpole. Before I finish my task, I have to stand back to look at
you...deep blond stud, dark wet hairs curling out of your pits,
vulnerable in this position and crying for my tongue. A look of
pleading in your eyes, and gratitued, your nipples standing up
hard, surrounded by occasional blond hairs which look darker
against the pure whiteness of your skin and trail down to gather
around your navel, then spread to the darker bush below. I tug
hard, and you wince, but the trousers at last are off and in my
hand. Your feet and legs look immense--hell, they are!--but more
commanding are the fencepost thrusting up at the center of your
groin and the large, deep pink skinsac below it, bulging with your
nuts like a full wineskin.
Kicking off my boots, I crawl up onto the bed between your legs
and, kneeling, lower my suspenders and remove my shirt. I see your
eyes shift to study how the curly reddish-brown of my beard blends
into a thick mat of the same, burying my nipples and extending
across the flat muscles of my stomach into my trousers. I open the
fly and my hard sex swings out, trailing a thread of clear precum
from my stomach hairs out to its purple, bobbing head. When I reach
in to free my ballsac, your eyes lock there, and a faint, happy
smile crosses between the two furry trails of your swooping
mustache. A deep sigh escapes your lips. Your relaxation is now
obvious! I gently take each leg in hand and, raising them, begin to
move forward between them, trailing my tongue against both calves
and up the inside of your thighs, running it against the lie of the
hairs there and savoring the salty tang of your sweaty skin. I
begin to smell the scent of your crotch, and like a critter in
heat, I have no resistance. I lean forward, putting your legs down,
spread widely, and support myself on my hands while I stab a deep,
probing tongue kiss into your throat. You moan this time, more
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May 24th, 2010 | 
Author: 
Posted in Sex stories