Unfulfilled longing

“Unfulfilled Desire” was written for BDSMforyou.nl by B -liever

He smelled of his cigarette. The last one. She saw him coming back. Back from the bar. Coke and a Camel filter. His gaze not fixed on her. But on that other person, on others. He saw everything that moved. His gaze too eager. His body already older, experienced—what you’d expect from anyone over forty. He felt an unfulfilled longing.

Suddenly she was standing next to him. “Quitting smoking would be better for you,” she said softly. His reply was too sharp, too quick, too unexpected: “If you were a Mistress, I might consider it.” She wanted to hit him. Slap him across the face, kick him in the balls. So viciously with her nails that the tears would come to his…

Frozen

She caressed him. Her hand flat and over his hair. Down his shoulder and his arm. Then she did it again. He seemed frozen. Cold as ice, almost petrified. She smiled as she looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the gray at his temples, the eyelashes that trembled softly when she touched him again. “Good,” she whispered, and he enjoyed it.

So she stroked him there. Between his legs. Cock and balls. Balls soft, cock rock hard. Then her hand flat again, from head to neck, shoulder to forearm. The belt undone, button open, zipper down, and she eagerly reached in. He stood proudly erect. She didn’t hear him, not when he said it was impressive for an impotent man. That he’d only come for the show. The people on stage.

Playfully nibbling

She placed her finger on his lips. He didn’t whisper, didn’t stop talking, didn’t look back, and didn’t even nod. His tongue slid along her finger. His lips nibbled playfully. Slipped far too eagerly over her finger, and her grip tightened around his cock. She held on too tightly. For a moment she twisted, the mean bitch that she was. She looked at him, smiling. He looked up, his eyes raised because her finger was lower, and he bent deeply so as not to miss the pleasure of her sucking.

Then her gaze hardened. She pulled her finger out of his mouth and jerked his cock much harder in a slow rhythm. Pulling, firmly from the shaft, her fingers closing slightly tighter. Then loosening and back. She repeated this, pumping the blood to the dark red glans. Then there was a little lubricant. Her hand now more rhythmic, faster, quicker; she saw him jerk, his eyes rolling away, his head thrown back.

Rotten Mandarin

She squeezed hard. Like a rotten mandarin that had to be squeezed out. The fluid sprayed everywhere. On her, on others. They didn’t notice. It was just the way it was. He knelt, licking the semen from her black leather pants with his eyes closed. She felt him. His head nuzzling against her crotch. She ignored his actions. She said scornfully that this wasn’t bad for an impotent slave.

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Source

Text: B-liever
Image: 123rf.com