Next there was her hand pulling a silver flask from the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She drank, handed it to me, and as I drank she reached forward and tipped the flask up with just her two fingers. It was sweet and strong. I closed my eyes and let it fill my mouth until she pulled it away. Warmth coursed through me, right down to the tip of her boot. I looked up and tried to speak but she caught me with a sharp, open-handed slap, just hard enough to get my attention. My head was light but I could feel the pressure of her boot and the beginning of an even buzz in the base of my brain.
“Get up.”
She stepped back and after a short battle with equilibrium and my legs, I stood. I looked at the space between her knees, the hem of her skirt just short of midthigh, and the narrow heels of her boots. She pushed me toward the door, which I opened and held for her.
I followed a step behind her as we walked to her car. It was a small kind of SUV, black, with leather seats. Once we were inside, she kissed me, hard and deep, then she made me kneel on the floor facing the seat and it didn’t occur to me to object until I was already on my knees. I heard the glove box open behind me and then there were handcuffs around my wrists. She slid the seat back up and I found I couldn’t move. She leaned down and whispered in my ear.
“Either I’m going to take you home and do what I like with you, or you say no and I’ll let you out of the car right now.”
I wanted her. I kept quiet. She pulled my head toward the dash by the short hairs at the back.
“Give me permission, then. Say yes or it stops now.”
I turned my head up toward her and her hand caught my cheek again. It was more than I’d felt in months. I couldn’t raise my voice above a whisper and I couldn’t move.
“Yes.”
She didn’t answer and I thought maybe she’d lost interest.
“Please yes.”
She blindfolded me then and I felt a kind of relief. If I couldn’t see her anyhow, I didn’t have to try to look anymore. I let my weight fall forward onto the seat but she pulled my head back again and pressed what felt like a rubber ball into my mouth. I accepted it like the mouth of the flask earlier. It was another few seconds before I realized it was a gag. As she pulled it tight I could feel my lips spread and my tongue press into the floor of my mouth. She let go and I let my chest rest on the seat again. The car lurched forward.
When the car stopped again I had no idea how much time had passed. For months I hadn’t even been able to masturbate successfully, and for however long she’d been driving I’d been closer than anybody’s best effort since my last relationship started to go south. The seat slid backward and I went with it. I heard her car door slam shut and for a little while I was alone, then the door next to me swung open.
She dragged me out of the car and I fell on the pavement, somehow not hitting my knees or elbows. I heard the muted sound of what remained of my voice squeeze out around the ball gag and I felt the toe of her boot push in under my face. For the first time since she’d put the gag in place, I wished it wasn’t. She helped me roughly to my feet, put some kind of collar around my neck, and took a step away. I felt a tug and realized she’d put me on a leash. I followed her, stumbling blindly on steps, doing my best to keep my feet. I heard a key in a door and heard it swing open. She led me in and, I thought, through a couple of rooms until I found myself face to face with a wall. There was a click and I knew she’d taken the leash off. The handcuffs were next. I wanted to rub my wrists but I stood still, waiting.
She pulled my jacket off and tossed it across the room. Her slow, even, breath made my heart sound loud and fast. She came closer and I could feel the heat of her body through my thin shirt right before she pulled me backward, off balance. I tried to keep my feet, I think just by reflex, but she dropped me easily and smoothly to the floor. She told me to take off my boots and I fumbled, loosening the laces just enough so my socks came half off with my boots. Her voice was low and quiet and, as she directed me to undress completely, I was so focused on listening that I barely noticed what I was doing. The evenly spaced slats of the wood floor were cool under my bare ass but the room was warm. Everything was still. I heard her boots crossing the room and I felt like I was breathing in time with the even clicking of her heels against the floor.
I tried not to move, unsure of where to put my hands, wishing she would touch me again. A dull throb had started in my clit and seemed to radiate out, turning my body into a single pulsing organ. I was sure she was watching me. I heard her boots take a few steps followed by the sound of something scraping across the floor and stopping nearby. I couldn’t identify the next several sounds but when I turned my head, trying to capture something more, she put a boot down on my chest just above my breasts and pushed me down. The other boot came to rest just above my pubic bone. She must be sitting down.
I felt more naked than I’d ever felt before. I heard the unmistakable sound of a cigarette lighter sparking to life, and for a moment the light-headed onrush of adrenaline blocked out everything else. I didn’t even know why. As the wave of it passed over and out of me I realized she was sitting in a chair smoking, using my body for a foot rest. I became aware of my body then, beginning with the skin her boots rested on. I could feel the exact shape of them and the distribution of her weight. There was a slight draft in the room and it made me more and more aware of the growing wetness between my legs. Once I started to feel that, it held all my attention. I was sure she must see it, must be staring at it.
Suddenly her boots were gone, the chair slid back, she stood. I wanted to move toward her, my body ached to be touched. She made me get onto my hands and knees, walked behind me, and stopped there. I heard a rustling sound followed by a small snap. I felt her gloved hand on the inside of my thigh and I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid any movement might make her take her hand away. She slapped at my thigh, forcing me to spread my legs further. The muscles in my lower back tightened and I felt my ass trying to push itself higher. She moved her hand forward across my swollen labia, teasing my clit with a fingertip, letting me feel how slick I was. I felt an involuntary moan trying to escape but I closed down on the gag.
She had me crawl across the floor a little way, then she stopped me and got me up onto a bed, laying me down on my back. My body seemed to sink into the softness of it after the cool hardness of the wood floor. She ran a hand over my breasts and my back arched toward it before I could stop myself. She laughed quietly and pulled her hand away. I tried again to hold as still as possible while she fastened a restraint around my right wrist, then my ankle, and then the other side, stretching me across the bed. All my attention was on whatever part of me she happened to be touching.
She slapped my clit just hard enough to make my whole body jump and I realized how little I could move. My arms and legs tensed. There was a steady hum inside my head. I whimpered around the gag. The muscles around my clit twitched and spasmed. She tapped lightly, teasing. She tickled, she rubbed, she pushed her fingertips between my labia, just barely inside. I tried to thrust my hips toward her and I started to feel my whole body rising off the bed. If I hadn’t been gagged I would have pleaded with her. I stopped trying to control the sounds coming from deep in my throat. I stopped trying to struggle and I stopped trying not to. Everything was slick and wet. I could feel her slowly stretching me open wider, pushing my resistance away. Her mouth was on my clit, sucking, nibbling, grazing me with her teeth. I wanted to spread my legs further apart, I wanted to pull her to me. I felt the wave of orgasm begin to sweep through me and then I felt the last piece of resistance give way and she was inside me. I felt the widest part of her hand slip in as I came. My body held her inside and she held me, suspended inside the wave of my orgasm. Nothing else could feel like that. Her whole fist filled me in places I never knew were empty. The universe was reduced to the places her two hands touched. Time was gone, the sunlight was fresh and warm.
Soon my arms and legs were free, the gag and blindfold were gone,
and I was curled against her naked breasts. I felt like a child, completely safe. She kissed my forehead and pulled a blanket over me and I slept. In the morning she told me her name.
Fags Like Us
Zane Jackson
We were standing in a small room enclosed by bars, dyke/ trans night in a club more frequently used as a gay men’s sex club. He was a big stylish bear of a butch with a genderqueer streak a mile wide and a foot deep. The way he kissed reminded me of the way I’ve seen gay leatherboys kiss at the Ramrod, the older Daddy leaning up against the bar, pulling the half-naked and quite a bit younger boy up on his toes, to make their mouths meet.
Leathermen kissing is all about tongues meeting, slowly sliding over one another, feeling each other up. Not in the privacy of their mouths but shamelessly stretched out and rubbing over one another in the air between them. Kissing that looks more like cocksucking than kissing.
His tongue worked my tongue over, in a bar backroom sort of way, running the tip of his tongue around the end of my tongue like it was the head of my cock, slow and deliberate.
He was big, a good half a foot taller than me in his big black boots, and I was on my tiptoes, with my back pressed against the wall. I felt little and hungry. He pulled my tongue into his mouth with his teeth, sucking the length of it in and out of his mouth, kissing like fucking, as he worked the underside of my tongue, pressing upward and dragging his teeth across the top. He stopped ever so briefly to lick slowly around the tip before his lips were pressed firmly against mine in the hungriest kiss I’ve ever been involved in.
We were fully clothed and it felt obscene. Tongues and lips stroking each other like simultaneous blow jobs. Deep soul cock kissing. Kissing that comes as close as I’ll ever get to knowing what his mouth would feel like wrapped around the cock I don’t have.
Between kisses, under his breath, he told me about the showers downstairs where fags whip out their dicks and piss down each other’s pants, where leather Daddies make good boys kneel and drink piss from their cocks. Pressing his knee and thigh into my crotch and taking my chin in his hand, he asked if I might be one of those kinds of boys.
He made me shiver but I looked him right in the eye. Short-cropped black hair, a strong square jaw, and dark brown eyes with a gleam that made my dick hard. I smirked.
“Bring it on, gorgeous.”
He laughed out loud and roughly shoved me into the wall with all his weight, digging his fingers into my upper arms hard enough to bruise me and covering my mouth with his, in a kiss that was more like breath control than kissing.
Lightheaded, I struggled against his lips, squirming on his thigh, when he stepped back and abruptly dropped me to the floor. The release was so sudden I laughed out loud from the adrenaline rush of falling to my knees, and when I looked up at him, he had his hands on his hips and there was a slight smile on both our faces.
He stepped slowly out of the way, to give me room to get up. I rose slowly, holding his gaze the entire way up, pausing for some indication of what I should do now that I was on my feet. He gestured toward the hallway, smiling. I did my best brazen femme fag turn-on-my-heels maneuver, making sure to walk out of the room with straight shoulders, so that my shoulders would look as broad as possible, and giving a little strut to show off my narrow hips and boyish ass.
I could feel his eyes on me, and I could feel other eyes on us as we crossed the big open play room. I took the initiative and walked straight to the stairs leading to the basement. I didn’t turn to see if he was behind me. I could hear the sound of his heavy boots on the concrete floor.
The basement was darker, with the flicker of candles in iron holders making shadows on the stone walls. It looked like an old wine cellar, except for the shower and a large steel walk-in freezer at the bottom of the stairs. People were fucking in all sorts of nooks and crannies, light flickering on naked bodies, with plenty of onlookers in the darker shadows and back corners.
I barely made it off the last step when I felt his body brush up against my back. I braced myself to be pinned against something, but he just kept slowly walking into me, inching me forward until I was standing chest against the steel freezer door.
His body was warm pressing up against my back and legs, the club was warm, and I was beginning to break a sweat. His arm curled around my throat from behind, and I got ready but he applied no pressure. I waited.
He just held me firmly in the crook of his elbow, while his other hand wandered all over my body, massaging my shoulder, pulling skin and muscle up off my bones, first sliding flathanded across my bare skin and then grabbing handfuls of my flesh and pulling hard. First shoulders, then upper arms, and then forearms. Pain alternating with an almost gentle affection. We were getting to know each other.
His hand came to rest on my ass, fingers curled between my legs, stroking my asshole with his thumb. I pressed the side of my face into the cold steel door, and pushed my ass back into his hand, moving against him because I was hungry to feel his cock in my mouth, maybe his hand on my dick. He reached around me and cupped his hand over my crotch, massaging my packing dick, and pressing firmly enough to stroke my real dick. I closed my eyes. The side of his face came to rest against my face as he continued to work my dick through my jeans.
“You’re my baby boy, aren’t you?” he rumbled into my ear.
I could barely breathe.
“Yes, please—”
He turned me around by the shoulders. I kept my eyes turned down. His thick, beefy arms braced against the door on either side of me, and he leaned down and pressed his mouth against mine, kissing me slowly, and repeatedly as if pulling me toward him with each kiss of his mouth.
My boldness was wearing off rapidly. I was beginning to really feel submissive, my hands started getting cold, and my nose started itching, always signs that I’m about to totally go under for someone. He reached down and grabbed me by the front of my jeans, his hand wrapped around my belt, his fist resting against my packing dick, pulling my jeans up into the crack of my ass. I took a deep breath, because I knew we were about to get started.
He turned abruptly and walked away, dragging me roughly by the front of my jeans as I struggled to stay on my feet. I no longer felt my usual cocky coolness at a play party. This boy was at least twice my size and twice as strong, and people turned to watch the big boy drag me across the basement to the shower area.
I had wanted to be a fag before I even knew that girls could grow up to be boys, before I knew I could be a boy. And as the grimy tile floor of the shower room was getting closer and closer, all I could think was that I was finally going to get to kneel for a big butch fag, a big butch fag who was a fag like I am a fag, and that I was going to take whatever he dished out.
He turned and pushed me first into the shower stall, and for a moment we just stood there looking at each other. He reached into his front pants pocket and flicked a condom at me. I didn’t catch it, I never do, and it landed on the tile between us. As I was leaning down to pick it up, I heard him start to unbuckle his belt, and the sound made it hard for me to breathe.
I took my time reaching down, embarrassed to look up and catch his eye, trying rather unsuccessfully to play it cool. I love cocksucking so much it makes me painfully shy. I lifted my eyes just enough to see him unzip his pants and adjust himself in his underwear. My face was hot, and I was sure I was blushing furiously.
Standing with his leather pants unzipped and his dick hard and pressing against his boxer briefs, he put one hand on the top of my head and pressed me down to my knees in front of him. He began stroking the back of my head, running his fingers up the buzzed back of my hair. Holding the crown of my head in his hands, he rubbed my face roughly into his crotch.
“I bet you like sucking cock, eh, boy? Little cocksucking faggot.”
Sweat was running down my back and pooling at the base of my spine. I could smell him. He smelled hot and wet and strong like sex, his hard dick pressed up against my face. I had to close my e
yes for a second when he pulled his boxers down and grasped his cyberskin dick in his hand. When I opened my eyes he was fondling himself, pulling on his dick, and stroking the tip against my closed mouth. He smiled and I closed my eyes again.
“Condom?”
I looked down and the package was still in my hand.
He laughed.
Hands shaking, I ripped open the red foil package and spread the condom over the tip of his cock, stroking it slowly all the way down to the base. He took a step closer, holding his cock and running his thumb firmly in circles over the slit in the tip. I swallowed hard.
I could tell that he was worked up, and it made my dickhead throb in my pants. Holding his dick in his hand he stroked the head against my closed lips, rubbing the tip across my skin, teasing at first, stroking the side of my face with his other hand. Then slowly but insistently, he pressed the head of his cock against my lips. His face was intent, serious even, with just the slight smirk of someone about to get his dick sucked.
“Open your mouth.”
I opened my mouth, and he dragged the tip of his cock against my tongue. He held my chin in his hand. He stroked his dick along my outstretched tongue, repeatedly, deliberately, very much in control of this blow job. I curled the tip of my tongue up against the underside of his cock, very slowly dragging my tongue out to the tip of his cock, feeling hungry for dicksucking and wanting to give him the best blow job of his life.
Best Lesbian Erotica 2005 Page 12