Friday, July 10, 2015

The Butterfly Chronicles - the Hunter Strikes

Your kiss, lethal to the touch. Your lips intoxicate me, weakening my resolve. When we met, I was the hunter; the one in control. Silly me. I was so distracted by your tongue searching the inside of my mouth that I didn't feel the cold steel of handcuffs that encircled my wrists, binding them to my bedpost until it was too late. Hunted by seduction. I should have seen it coming. I'm powerless, putty in your hands.

So, what will you do now that you have me as your prisoner? Oh, I see. You've decided to pull off my pants and underwear. My cock was ready for you to command at will since our first kiss. All 8 throbbing inches burst out as the stretched band of my underwear releases the head from its constraints. 

You gasp, then smile. You lick your lips, the saliva lubricating your plump lips. The salivate over what you're going to do with it. Shall you sit on it, giving it the pleasure that is your sugar walls? Not just yet. First, you have to pleasure your mouth. You love the taste of a hard throbbing cock. You crave it. You know that to control a man, to bring him to his knees, a dog at your whim, you will bring all of your oral skills to light.

Your first weapon will be your eyes. You study me, gauging my reaction as your mouth dances in rhythm up and down my throbbing member. You never lose eye contact through it all, except when studying my cock. You stare intensely, watching the large vein pulse with excitement. You smile, knowing that you're the one making me feel this way.

Your teeth drag up and down, feeling every bump in each vein. You increase your rhythm, stopping long enough to go further south to lick and suck on my balls. I try to resist. I think of everything else to not unleash my load. I can't let you win. I had plans of conquests, not to be captured, my cock being used as a fuck toy. 

Then, you find my ultimate weakness. Your fingers go south, crawling on the crack of my ass until they find their ultimate destination. You insert a couple fingers into my asshole while you continue sucking my balls as your hands stroke up and down my shaft. My resistance becomes futile. My breathing becomes heavier. You laugh, knowing you're going to make me cum soon. "Cum, baby, cum" you repeat over and over again. I thrust my hips up and down, bucking like an out of control bronco. My heart pounds heavier, my breathing more erratic, my moans and grunts become louder.

I can't help myself. You have me. You control me. I can't stop this. You're a pro, a succubus sent to have your way with me, then leave me a broken shell of a man, discarded, pleading for more. My volcano starts to flow upwards. Suddenly, I cry out in painful pleasure as my creamy lava erupts into your waiting mouth. You suck in every drop, tasting my cum on your lips and tongue. 

Once you're done milking me, I notice that you haven't spit, nor have you swallowed. Your body moves upwards. Your lips come to mine. You start to kiss me, only I find that you're spitting my cum back into my mouth. I swallow, sharing your reward for your job well done, as our tongues intertwine. I am yours. You have won. You laugh. You knew you were going to win the entire time. The hunter became the hunted, captured, bagged, tagged, torn, broken, spent, as it should be.

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