My last master only wanted to humiliate me, so I let him. But it wasn’t what I wanted, what I needed. He wanted me to be an object, an empty one. Why didn’t people try to fill you up any more, why were they all queuing up to pour you out?
But he was different. I wore my favorite dress, not one he picked out, he just asked me to wear something that would make me feel good. It was dark blue. “Like your eyes,” he said. I shivered. My cock pressed against my pants and I had to distract myself.
He picked me up and we went to dinner. His eyes brushed over me, but he was careful for them not to linger. He was delicate like that. Besides, he knew that I had been used. He had been very clear he didn’t want to use me.
I’d told him my experiences, blurted it all out over a cocktail. All we’d done was hold hands, had that one mind blowing kiss. I’d had to tell him who I was, where I was coming from, where I wanted to go. I was tired of being someone’s slut. A disrespected whore. Cum swiped from the sole of a shoe. I could feel myself vanishing. Consumed by the appetites of men who would fuck me until bored. Devour me until sated. Use me until I was empty.
He had stroked my hand, then lifted my chin, looked in my eyes. “You shouldn’t be afraid. It isn’t right. You don’t need to be, not now.”
Overwhelming words. He looked into my eyes. His own were dark, his face slim, chiseled, so earnest. “You want to be valued,” he said, “we all do.”
The second kiss came then. His lips lingering on mine, tongue rubbing gently over the bottom lip, probing ever so softly. Enough for me to need more.
I loved dressing up. I guess I’d become pretty convincing over the years, but it wasn’t until he kissed me again, and I felt the press of him, the need stirring, that I truly felt like a woman. He let me go, smiling, realizing we had both been overtaken by the moment.
He’d asked me out for dinner, and here we were. Him in his black suit, me in my shiny dress. We went hand in hand to our table. When had our hands joined? I wasn’t even sure, it had just been natural. “You look pretty,” he said. “And happy.”
The fact he noticed, the fact he cared, and the fact it was true, made it hard to react. I just smiled, mumbled a thanks. But he smiled back. He understood me, or so I dared hope. Was it too much to ask for?
I want to be a princess, if only for a day. Not a slave. Not something gaudy. I don’t want to be forced to my knees. I want to float down.
I found myself trying to project these thoughts, these wishes. Foolish. But then I’d always been foolish, where had it got me?
We finished the meal, the wine buzzing in my stomach, a comfortable silence growing between us. So many little looks, though. He invited me back to his apartment. There was no sense of expectation, no pressure. He just wanted to be with me. To continue looking at me with the gentle awe I had begun to detect.
I accepted, knowing already I wanted to give him more than he would probably ask for. I was ready.
After a quiet journey, full of ore little touches, little smiles, we arrived. We sat on a dark leather couch, my skin shivering pleasantly with each and any contact. His hand found its way to my knee, which was just below the hem of my dress. He stroked it lightly, waiting for my response. I thought about tugging my dress up a little, giving him a flirtatious look. But no, I wanted him to want me, to show me that he wanted me. Seduce me, I thought, show me what I’m worth.
I just looked at him, expectantly.
He studied me. He took my hand, didn’t stroke it just held it. “I want you to know I think you’re special.” The words took my breath away. “I think that you’re beautiful, and I hate that someone didn’t-” I kissed him then, before the past could sully any of this. His hand stroked my cheek. “We could go upstairs, if you like,” he smiled.
I nodded, heart racing. I had never felt seen like this. As if naked while fully clothed. “Okay.”
He took my hand, and then he led me to his room. My thoughts began to blur. Inside, he pulled my closer and kissed me deeper than ever. This continued for longer than I had ever known. Was kissing always supposed to be like this? I felt so happy, I almost felt sad I hadn’t known till now. His hands brushed my face, my shoulder, my arms. Feeling, caressing. Never too much, never firm, never presuming. We parted, and he pulled his tie free. I hesitated for a moment, then he threw it to one side and unbuttoned his top button. I relaxed. This was different, I told myself. I was different now. He sat down on the bed, and pulled me down next to him. We kissed more, then we adjusted ourselves, lying on the soft bed together. Our limbs were all brushing each other. Legs stroking legs, bellies rubbing close. Everything was locking together at once, two objects vibrantly aware of each other. Two flowers, I thought, opening. Or was I being foolish again?
He caught the second of hesitation, and paused. “We can stop, it’s fine.”
I smiled, then kissed him some more. My hand fumbled for his belt, and he laughed. “Slow down, let me.” He gently pushed my hands away, and moved himself on top of me. He brought his hands down and gently lifted my dress. This wasn’t about him, I realized. I shivered. Oh god. I needed this so much.
My knees were almost trembling. He pulled my dress up to my waist, then lowered his face, and kissed the material of my white panties. I closed my eyes. My fists found handfuls of sheet to clench. I wanted to arc my body up towards him, but restrained myself. Slow down, I told myself. His breath was warm against the material. I felt his fingertips find the edge of the panties, and begin to tug. He paused for a moment, with just the slightest skin revealed. He found this sliver of skin that he had never seen, and kissed it keenly. I tried not to make a sound that would expose my eagerness. But the growing bulge before him would do that soon enough. He stopped kissing, fingers back at the thin material. “I’m going to pull these down,” he said, voice softer than I’d ever heard it before, “then I’ going to kiss your velvet skin, top to bottom.”
I opened my eyes long enough to see the hunger in him, long enough to show him the hunger in me. He smiled, then I lay back, eyes shut, and let him explore.
The panties slid down, and the sudden cool rush of the sheets against my skin was delicious. I moved to let him pull them freely away, and realized, with a blush, that with my dress around my waist, I was fully exposed to him. His lips were at my thigh, planting soft kisses. They walked slowly up my body, to where my hips curved towards my sex, then he followed the line. I had shaved, not for him, for myself, because I love the sensation of soft skin so much, and his mouth followed the curve all the way.
I was so hard. Oh god, it almost hurt. He was just looking at me, I could sense it. I needed a touch, anything. Why was he waiting, when was he going to-
He licked. From base to tip. One quick wet flourish. It took everything I had not to cum just there and then. My waist lurched upwards. I felt primitive. “Oh god,” the words escaped me.
His mouth was back then, as if urged on by my sounds. He was licking me, slowly, but firmly. Up and down. down and up. Leaving slick trails he would then pause and blow against. It was torture. It was ecstasy. It was all for me. My hands left the sheets, and found his hair, I clutched at it, pulling and stroking. I whimpered, I pleaded. I said yes more times than I could count.
Suddenly he stopped, I looked at him, my mouth dry from the strain I felt all over my body. He looked at me, a little saliva hanging from his lip. “Turn over, baby.”
I nodded, unable to form words right now. I hustled around for him, pulling my dress up until it was just below my bra. My bottom was exposed, and he quickly kissed each cheek. I shivered, but then his hands were on them, pushing them gently apart. Now his tongue alone was kissing me. Up and down the crack, long leisurely strokes. Oh god. I bit the pillow before him, moaning like someone who wasn’t used to such worship. And Jesus, that was what it felt like. He took so much time. Probing, flickering his tongue in and out, listening for moans, sensing the way I twitched and flexed. Oh, I needed more. Eventually he stopped, and I heard the belt loosen. I bit the pillow, silently begging. I reached around and pulled myself open. Surrendering eagerly. His hands stroked the exposed part of my back, I tingled at the touch. They moved down to my hips. Oh god. Then I felt him move closer behind me, felt something hard at the wet passage.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. He bent down, until his face was by mine. He kissed my neck, my cheek. “I wont hurt you, okay?”
I nodded. No words. There were were no more words. He understood, leaned back, and I felt him steady himself. He tried a finger first, up to the knuckle. I took a deep breath, released it and shivered. I felt as if my whole body were going to start shaking. “I can take it,” I told him. “Please.”
He didn’t need to hear any more. He took the finger out, braced himself with his hands on my hips, and then got ready. I could hear him lubricating himself, and felt the cool chill of something wet, before something hard kissed me. My lover. He was inside me, deep, fast. Just like that. Like my body was ready before I was, like it had been opening slowly since the first kiss. I thought again of being a flower. Foolish girl. I smiled into the pillow as he rested, stroking my hips. “Oh my god,” he sounded strained, “oh my god that’s good.”
I murmured in agreement. My hand reach back and stroked his. He placed his hand over mine, trapping it in place while his hands used my hips to get purchase. He gripped me, then started to rock back and forth. My lover was gently fucking me. no- making love to me. Oh god, it was perfect. It had never been slow like this. Equal. I rocked back with him, getting into the same motion. I could feel his grip loosening and tightening, as if fighting himself, trying to control himself. He was going to cum in me, and that was fine, that was good. Natural. I bounced back against him, as he entered me even deeper. He wasn’t too big, just the perfect size. God, the things I would do with that dick once I got my mouth round it. I laughed. Everything felt so good. “I love it,” I said.
He laughed. “You’re perfect.”
His hand clutched mine, I clutched back. We rocked together. I bit the pillow while he thrust himself deeper and deeper. I took it for him, enjoyed every inch and second of it. When his knees began to feel the strain, I felt him pushing me down, but my cock was pressing into the sheets. I mumbled something, and he adjusted so that we were spooning. He thrusted into me some more, then reached around and stroked me. I reached back and got a handful of one of his buttocks, pulling him deeper into me, urging him ever onwards. We were a writhing mess. I laughed, delighted, and he joined me. Soon we were kissing again, and then he drove into me deeper than before, eyes locked on mine. “I’m going to cum,” he whispered.
I nodded. “It’s okay.”
His hand was on my hip, and my hand over his. Our eyes never left each other, I drank in how overwhelmed he was, how drunk on me, my body. I absorbed him. He tensed, and suddenly he hand was gripping me tight. I felt him cum deep inside me, a thick warm spurt that made my legs shake at the intensity of it. I came dry, as his cum continued to spurt, and my body drove back into his, I found myself trembling, shaking. He finished with a final frantic motion, then pressed himself into my back, his face in the crook of my neck, his cheek against mine. He groaned, and I rubbed his hair. He had lost his shirt at some point and was naked. I glanced at his chest, the hairs on his belly, his arms. My man. I felt him still inside me. He tried to pull out, and I returned my hand to his buttocks, pressing him back. “Stay.”
He looked at me, eyes drowsy, heavy. He nodded, then returned his head to nuzzle my cheek. He had a wonderful weight, a solidity that was reassuring. His arm was round my waist, and he pulled me close.
His hand came down to stroke my cock, but I lightly brushed it away. I didn’t need it. “I came,” I muttered. My voice was hoarse, whispery, was it more feminine than before?
“I felt it,” he said, “your whole body went tight, can’t explain it…”
I just smiled. I studied his face, wanting to burn it into my eyes, then my face fell back into the pillow. My hair was long, shoulder length, he hadn’t grabbed it once, but now he brushed it back over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and smiled.
We lay like this, glued together. “I see you,” he whispered into my back.
2 thoughts on “Gay Love Is So Tender”
Hey,somebody!! Do that to me! I’ll let you!! Oh, my! That is so sweet, !Yes indeed ,oh my , YES!!
Mmmmm sweet date with a 🔥🔥🔥🔥 💕💕💕💕💕 scene.