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Someday, she'll have to break it to him. That this relationship isn't built to last. As sweet as the poor guy is, and as nice as it may be to have somebody willing to grovel and worship at her feet, he isn't the sort of man appropriate for a long-term relationship. Too twig-like, too easy to snap between her hands like the neck of a chicken. She used to do that, back on her granny's farm as a kid. Her little brother was supposed to be the one who did it, slaughter the chickens for Sunday dinner, but he had been too timid so the job had always fallen on her even-then broad shoulders.
He’d been a sweet kid though, like this man before her now, and he grew up to be a sweet man. Him and his boyfriend and their new baby. And Mary, mother of Jesus, why was her gay little brother a parent before she was? The very thought of it sends a horrifying image to her brain of her ovaries drying out and falling off like a couple of dead autumn leaves. Why is she dating a man that makes her flamboyant, wimpy, Jack-Skellington-resembling little brother look like Arnold Schwarzenegger?
Maybe because she can't help herself. She knows what kind of man she wants to settle down with someday. A muscular, confident, forceful man. The type that is strong enough to throw her against the wall of the shower and take her from behind. The type who could carry her over the threshold on their wedding night and fill her full of happy, bouncing babies. A man's man, like her daddy had been before he had died in the war.
Maybe with a mustache.
But then there are the men she likes to play with. The ones you want to squeeze between your hands and watch ooze out between your fingers like Play-Doh. All those grocery store novels with the long-haired men on the cover talk about the women being putty in their hands. Where does a person even find putty these days? No, Play-Doh is better. It feels nicer, softer, and smells amazing. The sort of stuff they have to make sure is non-toxic because kids always want to put it in their mouth.
She thinks of putting her human Play-Doh man in her mouth now, to see if he tastes like toybox and salt and childhood rugs. But that would be too easy now, wouldn’t it?
He hasn’t done anything deserving of such a reward.
“Bon Bon?” a voice, shaking with something akin to fear, asks the silent room.
“What did I say about talking?” Bonquisha demands, delivering a sharp slap to the lily white ass. The man squeals, his hips jumping forward in surprise.
Perhaps their first sexual encounter together shouldn’t consist of her blindfolding the poor guy and cuffing his hands behind his back.
But oh, he makes such a pretty picture like this. Cheeks flushed where his face is cushioned against one of her pillows. Ribs visible as he breathes erratically.
And despite the painful noise he had made, the way his cock had jumped beneath him hadn’t gone unnoticed from her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” David apologizes. His voice sounds ragged already. How could a man his age be so easily agitated? He said this was his first time experimenting with anything at all bondage-like, had only agreed to do it at Bonquisha’s request. Maybe he’s always been a little pain whore at heart and just needed somebody to show him the way.
“Shut that mouth of yours before I gag it,” Bonquisha threatens, but there is no anger or venom in her voice. Just authority, as if she were a teacher threatening detention.
David makes a small squeaking noise and a drop of pre-cum drips onto her sheets. Oh. A gagging fetish. Maybe he has a choking one as well.
It's been about twenty minutes since she first cuffed his hands behind him. Since then, he's been balanced up onto his knees in the exact position she had pulled him. Not fully comfortable, but not unsustainable either. He makes a very pretty picture like this, like a Christmas present just ready to be opened.
But the best part of Christmas is the anticipation.
What fun would Christmas be without the excitement for Christmas morning? What if you knew ahead of time what you would be getting? It would ruin the best part of the gift giving. Ironically, though, Bonquisha knows exactly what is in her present today.
Perhaps David is the one receiving the gift. That would make more sense. But the excitement of seeing how the givee responds is just as exciting as opening the present itself so the point about anticipation still stands.
And oh, is David in for a treat.
Two women. That's how many David has slept with in his life, according to his own stories. Some girl in his grade back when he was a senior in high school, and some chick he had dated for two years in college.
Also, according to her little toy, they had both been very vanilla, with depressingly stunted sex drives. Which makes sense. She can easily imagine this man having little bravery when it comes to approaching a strong woman like herself. She has that little Indian kid to thank for tonight’s unwrapping.
What a fortunate decision it had been, to drive out to meet him that night a couple weeks ago. She has known since the moment she had seen this skinny ass pansy boy standing there before her that she wanted to wreck him.
And if any of her dates had ever needed to be wrecked before it was this one.
She allows him to wait another five minutes in silence, punishment for speaking. That doesn’t mean she has to punish herself though. She sits in her armchair to the side, legs spread, playing with herself. Going gentle and easy, spreading her juices across her engorged clit and rubbing just enough to keep herself aroused but not close.
Can he hear it, from the three feet gap between the chair and the bed? The sound of wet skin on skin? Can he smell her?
She hopes he can. She hopes it leaves him feeling desperate, hearing and smelling her pussy and knowing he's not allowed anywhere near it tonight.
Maybe never. She doesn’t usually allow her toys to play between her legs. Except when she’s feeling generous enough to ride their faces. And while she knows he will be fun to play with she knows she’ll need to cut the cord before he becomes too attached.
Not yet.
When she stands, the thump of her feet on her plush shag carpet, David twitches on the bed. But he stays quiet and folded up as she commanded.
She makes sure to allow the metal buckle of the strap on to clink as she pulls it on and adjusts it. He had no idea what she has planned for tonight. That isn’t to say that this isn’t something he is uninterested in. They have discussed what sort of experimentation they were both willing and looking forward to trying. But Bonquisha didn’t bring up that she had planned on going right to this with their first attempt at intimacy.
But who can resist an ass like that? Boy was built to take something big and hard up that hole. He might not know it yet, but she knows a hungry boy asshole when she sees one.
The dildo is two-sided. When she fits it in place the smaller, more flexible part slips up inside her, touching her g-spot but not stimulating it enough to be unbearable. The rest of the device is long, hard, thick, and bright purple. Eight inches of shining silicon ready to breach a virgin entrance.
But first.
“Keep holding still, baby boy,” Bonquisha instructs, climbing onto the bed. She knee-walks a few steps over and lays a hand on the area between his arched shoulders. Goosebumps immediately pop up on his smooth skin and he breathes deeply, shakily. As if he doesn’t trust himself to know how to breathe correctly.
“Good boy,” she coos, stroking his soft skin like he’s a beloved pet. She trails her hand up, over the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Up further, her fingers entwining in his fluffy auburn hair. Feels like a damn cat. Is this human hair or fur? He melts beneath her, just pressing his head against her fingers the slightest degree. He’s relaxing. Good. She wants him comfortable. It’s hard to penetrate a man who isn’t comfortable.
She's gentle when she winds the hair around her fingers, making a fist. Gentle but firm, pulling his head back, exposing his throat. She tugs down the blindfold. His eyes are wide, liquid with something darkly undefinable. The pleasure of having one's hair tugged at, possibly.
The exact moment when he spots the dildo is heart-stopping. His jaw all but drops, eyes wide. If he were a cartoon character he’d be giving the piece of plastic heart-eyes. Lips slack as a couple pieces of chewed up bubblegum.
No objection from his side. No doubt about it, he wants it.
“Baby boy needs his pacifier,” she says, still cooing. Pulling closer, she brushes the rounded tip of the dildo against his cheek. Wishing she could leave a trail of pre-cum on his flushed skin. Maybe she should have splurged for the realistic ejaculating one instead.
Next time.
When she pushes the dildo between his sinfully plump lips he opens his mouth wider, reminding her of a snake unhinging its jaw. This is a large faux-cock and not one that most people could easily swallow.
And David doesn’t. He gags, eyes watering, but he doesn’t try to pull away. Just breathes through his nose and swallows, again and again. Mucus, spit, maybe vomit. And the plastic shaft, a bit at a time. Bonquisha grins as she slowly, a half inch at a time, works her dildo down his throat. Her vulva presses against his mouth for a scant second, allowing him a taste, before she pulls back. The plastic is wet with saliva and he makes a gagging noise.
If this was a real cock it’d probably feel great, the convulsing around her cock.
But she's more interested in the view than the sensations so she pulls back until about half of the chunk is plastic is visible in the air and lazily fucks his mouth with her dick substitute. The pull of his lips and the way he stares up at her are intoxicating.
He coughs again when she pulls off completely. A trail of spit trails off the end. It snaps, the drool falling in a rope down his chin and throat. He looks debauched.
“Pretty boy,” she laughs, stroking his face affectionately. His lips look indecently swollen and she wonders, for an instant, what they would look like suctioned around her pussy. “Look what you did to momma’s toy, you got it all wet. Are you going to apologize for getting your spit all over momma’s toy?”
“Sorry, momma,” he rasps.
“It’s okay, baby boy, momma’s toy is waterproof.”
Not oil-proof though. That’s why the instructions said to only use water-based lubricants. She found a good one though, a nice self-warming one that smells like cinnamon. Bonquisha pours some of the cinnamon-scented lube onto her fingers before she rubs at the hairless pink hole in the back. Not going right for entry because she’s done this enough to know that a virgin manhole needs time to acclimate.
The fact he clenches and pulls away from her is not at all unexpected.
“Just hold still, baby boy, momma’s going to make you feel good. See, just giving your little hole a massage. That’s a good boy. Goooood boy.”
He’s leaking so much, his pathetically small dick oddly cute where it is nestled on his thigh. Not something worth putting inside of her, but adorable in its own way. Like a puppy you maybe want to scratch behind the ears.
He’s easy to open. Tight, but nonresistant. He actually pushes back as she slips the first finger in, obviously eager for more.
There’s no way he’s never at least fingered himself. He seems too ready and too willing to urge her on. When she slips the second in she begins to shallowly thrust them in and out, more just to hear the scandalous squelching noise they make than anything else.
He convulses around her on the third finger, sweat beading along his hairline and lower-back. But he takes it. He doesn't try to pull away or beg to stop, his body stiffens but he pushes back, trying to open himself further.
Such a good little whore. This will be fun.
“Momma’s baby boy has a hungry little asshole,” she laughs, pulling her fingers out with a wet sucking sound. She wipes them on the dildo then draws a line down the top of it with the clear gel. It already feels hot when she spreads it across the shaft and tip.
She uses a hand to guide the glistening object to his entrance and presses in slowly. He opens around her, flaring beautifully like flower petals opening towards the morning sun.
But the sound he makes, a low keening in the back of his throat, is more beautiful than any shrubbery. His entire body is wound tight, tighter than the guitar strings he plays those sappy songs for her on. He feels as hot beneath her as if she had smeared the cinnamon lube all over his body. Wouldn’t that be fun? Covering him something with edible and licking it off? Maybe when he was cuffed to the bed and whimpering in humiliation.
She doesn’t stop pushing into his body until her hips are flush against him. He’s taken it all, all eight inches, as if it were nothing.
Pressing her face into the middle of his back, right above where his hands are bound, she laughs deep in her throat. He’s nearly hyperventilating, his skin all goosebumps and sleek sweat.
“How’s that feel, baby boy?”
“Good,” David gasps out, the words barely escaping his lips. They sound strained, as if somebody were gripping him with a hand around the throat. He smells better than Play-Doh, like innocence and nature and virgin rolled into one.
“Gonna feel better,” she promises.
There's a compromise between sensation and appearance. For the first few minutes, appearance wins out. She sits up and thrusts half-heartedly, just staring at the space where they're connected, watching the purple disappear and reappear in a predictable rhythm. The pink hole, pulled so wide around the silicon, seems obscene. She could watch it stretch and pull around her faux-cock all day. David whines beneath her, wiggling as his hard cock lies beneath himself and the sheet, neglected. Good. The pale little ass, cheeks spread, look even better with a bit of a jiggle to them. She gives them an odd slap, just to enjoy the show.
But there’s something to be said about feeling the reactions as well. And nothing makes her feel more powerful than crushing one of her toys in her arms as she jackhammers into him with quick, powerful thrusts. And that’s what wins out in the end.
His hands are still confined behind his back, pressing against her stomach, but she squeezes her own breasts into his shoulders as she takes him as harshly as she can. Driving into him, the sound of his asshole wet and sucking her in, makes her own leaking pussy spasm around the matching purple mound inside her. Reminding her that she has yet to turn on the vibration of their little toy. She pauses for a moment to reach down and press the button on the base. The vibration is instant and shocking. Strong.
David yelps as the dildo, stilled but shoved deep up inside him, buzzes insistently against his prostate. His entire body jumps forward, the bedframe smacking against the wall.
"Yeah," she groans, driving in as deep as she can, grinding the hunk of plastic into his guts. "Your hungry boy pussy enjoys that, doesn't it? Scream for momma." He does, eventually, but not yet. Instead, he moans, low and long, almost unending. It just seems to keep going as she thrusts repeatedly into him. Every shove of her hips shaking his entire body as if he were a rocking chair, something light and easy to push, not a grown man who is more bone and limbs than muscle and fat. She fucks him. She fucks him thoroughly and unrelentingly and mercilessly until he begins to sob and bites at the pillow to apparently attempt to hold it in. Which he shouldn't be doing. She wants to hear him cry. She wants him to cry through his first anal orgasm; even better if she can get him to cum without touching his dick.
She sits back, grabs him by the hair and pulls his head back again, away from his pillow, and enjoys the sight so much she pulls back even more and presses a hand into his lower back, pulling him back like a bowstring. There's drool on his chin and sweat on his face as he sobs hysterically, still wiggling beneath her. She presses harder against his lower back, pressing his stomach down and his ass up. Better angle. Switching her technique, she thrusts in, out, in, out, in rapid succession. The slap of skin on skin is better than any artificial high. The bed squeaks beneath them, sounding as if it's about to fall apart.
"Please," David begs, voice wet, desperate. "Let me cum, I gotta cum."
“Then go ahead and cum,” she taunts. She tilts her hips at just the right angle and grinds against his prostate. “Come on baby boy, momma’s not stopping you.”
He sounds like he's dying. The way he sobs on her cock. He presses forward, trying to grind against anything, trying to find some friction, but then he presses backward again, wanting more direct contact of silicon against gland.
The movement is ridiculous and resembles nothing more than a fish flopping around on a river’s edge. But it’s also desperate and needy and oh so satisfying to watch.
She hugs him once more, crushing him in her arms so hard she can hear the wheeze in his voice as he tries to draw in breaths. Not helped by the loud weeping that accompanies each breath. The crying turns into a sort of staccato when she cants her hips up and begins to fuck into him rapidly. Her own cunt pulses, her thighs wet, and she knows she needs to finish him off. She needs to cum almost as badly as he does. The vibration hums between them, almost strong enough to numb.
Pressing her weight down on him entirely, she slows, then grinds. Deep and steady, applying a persistent press against his prostate and concentrating the pressure of the vibrator against her own g-spot.
He cums before she does. And he does scream through it. It sounds almost like a scream of surprise. And maybe it is. If he’s never had an anal orgasm before it may have taken him by surprise. Bonquisha unstraps the vibrator and reaches between her legs to finish herself off. She’s so close she only needs to rub against her own clit for maybe ten seconds before she feels the familiar pulsing sensating and lets out her own quiet groan.
Much more dignified than David’s high-pitched scream had been.
He cries afterward. Not desperately, like during sex, but a long, drawn-out session where he keeps wiping his face and apologizing and saying stupid shit like "I don't know why I'm crying, I'm sorry."
She’s guessing no woman has ever been good enough to give him a crying orgasm and she feels proud of that.
But she also wishes he’d shut up and get out of her trailer.