I wasn’t gonna think about what I was doing. That would be a fucking waste of time because no matter what, I wasn’t changing course now. I had been feenin for him all day.
I kept seeing those gray blue eyes everywhere. There was something about his pale, cream colored skin that had me wondering what it would look against the dark brown of my own. I was curious about the texture of his hair. It looked like it would feel so soft.
He followed me out of the bar. I told him where we were headed and waited while he walked to his car. My condo was in the center of downtown and it only took us a few minutes to get there.
When I let him into my apartment, he stood in front of me, hands at his side, and eyes lowered. I grabbed his chin and raised his head.
“Undress me,” I told him.
“Yes, Sir,” he said.
“When I want you to call me Sir, I’ll tell you to,” I said.
“Yes, Sss….I mean, ok,” he said.
After he removed my clothes, I went over to the couch, sat down, and told him to crawl to my side. I watched him make his way over to me, unable to take my eyes off of him as he crawled over to me, somehow making the awkward movements graceful.
“Stand up and take your clothes off,” I said.
He obeyed immediately.
He was finely made but I could tell that he didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who took a lot of pride in his appearance. He didn’t have that ‘look at me I’m so cute’ body language that some guys who look like him have. He stood there with the quiet confidence of someone who is comfortable in their own skin.
There was a thin line of hair that started at the center of his chest and stopped at his groin. It looked so soft that I was reaching out to touch it and see for myself if it was as soft as it looked before I realized what I was doing. He inhaled sharply and flinched. His breathlessness made my cock even harder.
I could tell that he was trying not to look at me. He was trying to be what he thought I might want him to be, but he wasn’t sure what exactly that was. I was glad that he was trying to pick up clues but not being pushy and assuming that he knew what I wanted. I hated playing with someone who had a generic script in their head about how things should be, or with someone who had read a manual, BDSM 101 or worse yet, some novel they had picked up at their local bookstore.
“Kiss my feet,” I said.
I love being touched and kissed and caressed. My entire body is one large erogenous zone. There is no area of my body that is not turned on when the touch of another rests upon it. That’s gotten me into trouble more than once.
He pressed his lips to my foot and I could feel the imprint of them upon the surface of my skin. Soft, warm and moist. My body is wired so that the nerves in my foot have a direct connection to those in my cock.
He pressed those soft wonderful lips against my foot again and again. He covered every square inch of my foot. He moved slowly, deliberately and as if he would kneel at my side, kissing this foot, for the next twenty years as if I so desired.
“The other one,” I said.
Incredible as it may sound, my other foot was even more sensitive than the one he’d started with. Each warm, moist kiss felt as though it were landing directly upon my dick. As his mouth traversed my foot, he varied his kisses and licks.
Sometimes there were sweet pecks, sometimes he would rub his open mouth across my foot, back and forth back and forth. Other times he would open his mouth and rub his tongue across my foot, lashing at it and sucking at the same time, like he would do if were kissing me or sucking my cock.
He licked and kissed my feet as though he were eating his favorite dessert. He was totally focused on my foot in his mouth. When he opened his mouth wide and slowly lowered it onto my big toe, raising and lowering his head in tiny increments, my head fell back and I groaned. He echoed the sound. I put my hands on my thighs and dug my fingers into my skin.
He very, very, very gently nipped at my big toe and I groaned again and thrust my hips upward. He removed my toe from his mouth and began kissing my foot frantically. I fought to keep from grabbing my cock.
“Stop,” I said.
He stopped immediately, his entire body trembling with the effort.
He knelt there in front of me on all fours, chest moving up and down rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. He licked his lips, sucking on them and I wondered if he was searching for the taste of me. His eyes were lowered to the floor.
“Touch me,” I said.
He crawled onto the couch and knelt at my side. To my surprise, he started to touch my face. His touch was light and gentle. He caressed the contours of my face as if he was trying to imprint my features upon the surface of his hands.
When his fingers crossed my lips, involuntarily my lips pressed against them. He leaned closer to me, so close that I could feel his breath across my skin; his nose was almost nuzzling mine. I could feel the yearning in him.
Nah. Uh unh. No kissing. Fuck that.
He backed away a little. I looked at him but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. His hands stroked upwards and buried themselves into the tiny twists scattered all over my head. He pulled on them and grabbed at them carefully with an innocent fascination that told me he had wanted to do this for a very long time.
His hands slid down towards my hairless chest. He circled my small nipples with both thumbs until they were hard and erect and I was struggling not to cry out. Almost bashfully his hand worked its way down to my hard cock, which was unbearably hard and lying flat against my stomach. He brushed his hand against it.
My eyes closed and I arched my back. Shit. It had been so long since I had been touched by any hand other than my own. The sensation was so exquisite that tears sprang to my eyes.
I resisted the urge to keep his hand right there, pressed against my aching flesh. He explored my cock curiously, measuring it with both hands, attempting to wrap his fist around it and not succeeding. He stroked it up and down, playing with it.
I could feel his eyes on me, attempting to gauge my response to what he was doing. He scraped across the slit with the tip of his finger, back and forth a couple of times and the groan I had been holding back surfaced against my will. I pressed my head against the back of the couch and grabbed his wrist.
“I’m thinking this isn’t such a good idea,” I said hoarsely.
He said nothing. He really didn’t have to.
I had started this after all.
I fisted my hand in his silky hair. God. It was as soft as I thought it would be. I yanked his head back, hard and it was as though I pulled a string.
His mouth opened. “I’ll do anything you want,” he said.
A smack to the head couldn’t have been anymore startling. My cock heard the words and processed them before I did. It lurched and a thick drop of precum formed on the tip. His hand was still resting lightly upon it and he whimpered.
“You want it too bad,” I said to him.
I think I was really talking to myself.