Under the Billionaire's Shelter - Jamie Knight Page 0,17
wasn’t too hard to get out of. Leif had had it designed with hooks up the back that held it together, without which it would literally fall off. I hadn’t worn any underwear that evening, knowing what was coming next.
“Good girl,” Leif purred, seeing the buttplug firmly in place.
I felt proud of myself for being able to keep it in me so long. I wasn’t sure that I would be able to, but I was willing to try. He had been putting me through anal training the last week or so and it had been the final test.
Preparing me with his tongue, his cock already quite hard, Leif put me in our favorite position, my legs over the edge of the bed, and slid his beautiful cock inside me, making me feel it as he entered me. His hot cock throbbed deep inside my pussy, our heartbeats falling into sync.
We came together, Leif pulling the plug out in time to get his head in instead, unloading inside me. Leaving his cock inside me, his giant load warming me to the core, he started pushing in further.
I moaned but didn’t stop him, wanting it as much as he did. We were on our honeymoon and I wanted to give him my anal virginity.
Leaning down to kiss me, he started moving gradually faster. My moan sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.
I knew what was happening, but it didn’t seem real. I felt like I was standing beside the bed, watching as Leif lovingly took my asshole for the first time. I wrapped myself around him as he pumped.
My legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, grounding myself, bringing us close together. As he came inside me again, I let out a sigh of joy. I was his, he was mine, and we would never be parted again.
The machines made their music. The industrial cacophony echoed over the dark water. Long Island wasn't Manhattan, though it could be like herding cats to convince people of that.
I focused on the crank and grind, trying to make a song out of it. I had been a fan of Industrial back when it was first popular. But I hadn’t been old enough to actually go to the shows. Taking the aching thrum as a base, I added the guitars and vocals in my head. It was difficult not to hum along.
I already wasn't super popular at work, even though I had been there a good decade longer than most of my co-workers. I tried not to think about it. Easier thought than done, though. No matter how hard I tried to push the thoughts out of my head, the more they came rushing back. I guess it only made sense that it would be hard not to think about him. He was my son, after all.
I hadn't seen him in nearly two weeks. He was 12 and able to make his own decision about such things, even if his dad did just appear out of the aether after letting me do all the parenting for just over a decade. He always was a selfish prick.
Even so, he was also a determined prick. If I fought him, we would end up in court and, since the lawyer I had consulted with said I wasn’t likely to win when the courts allowed children 12 and over to weigh in on what they wanted to do, it wasn't worth the upset. Especially not to Duncan.
I did my best to let it go and convince myself that a boy needed his father, but I didn't believe it was true in every case. A father figure, perhaps, but not necessarily their biological father. Especially one like Dave.
The whistle added its contribution to the tune, bringing the movement to a definitive end. The dull few dozen marched in conditioned unison toward the punch-clock. The lockers had a rhythm all their own. Clunks and clicks accompanied by high squeaks.
The drawing that was hung above the clock was surprisingly good. I had never suspected that there might be budding artists among my colleagues. The spurt of cum was a bit much, but the cock had been rendered in vivid detail, the black sharpie standing out against the industrial orange of the locker.