Hello Miss Tumblr. As I lay here in bed on a Saturday morning with a hard cock in my hand (hey, he likes to wake up before me), I look forward to my next adventure with your body.
Did I say “your” body? I think we both know who owns it now, don’t we? Let’s stop kidding ourselves.
I have not been writing as often as I’d like recently and it’s hard to say why. Maybe it’s this hard dick in my hand? Hmm. Tends to get in the way when I want to jot down my thoughts – both mentally and literally – if I think about it.
Yep. This hard, beautiful, circumcised, one-toned, well-proportioned, not-huge but big enough to make it hurt, presently stiffened cock that is currently filling up my left hand.
Painting a picture for you yet, Miss? You really should see it, Miss Tumblr.
God, this feels good. If I have to be totally honest, it just feels so good to hold this cock. The morning wood shop opens early on weekends, or so it seems, and under no circumstances do I want to leave this lonely California King with navy blue linens. There is all this room right next to me, and Miss, well, umm, anyways…
You know what I was thinking, Miss Tumblr? You really should try holding it sometime, you know, for science. You’d agree that it feels amazing – you know – to hold. It’s like a science thing. Testing it’s feel and girth. Hardness. You know. Just to hold it, of course. For science.
You’d probably want to put it inside you at some point, just out of old habits, but I never said you could do that, now did I? No, I definitely did not.
But what was I saying? Oh yeah.
As I lay here, there just happens to be a brand new one in my closet that I ordered this week. Wishful thinking, I suppose. Like the old Walt Whitman adage goes, “All these fucking collars with no necks.” Ah, could have gotten that wrong. Public schools in 1980s weren’t exactly “top notch”. Chalk that one up for the Gipper.
Anyways…this leather studded collar I have here…
Would you mind if I put it on you, Miss Tumblr? I need to see if it will fit, after all. You know, for fuckin’ science. Would you mind? Well, would you?
Would you mind if I propped you up on the mattress on your knees, over these navy linens, in your sexy lingerie, all “pouty face” like?
You know the lingerie, Kitten? Yeah, Kitten. You know. That is exactly the lingerie I want to see. That black lingerie.
I really want to see you in that lingerie, but now in a collar. I want to pull you to the ground, slowly walk you around, just like a pet.
Not far. Just enough paces to straddle the line between submissiveness, servitude, and questionable humiliation. Marginal disgrace. To bring you into the mental space of “what just happened”? Just there. For a brief moment.
Then I reassure you that I ache for you.
That I worship you.
In my bones.
Then I shove this hard cock (yeah, the one still in my hand), right into your little slutty face hole, with anger as I do it. I call you a “whore” when I foist this thickness into your mouth, watch you well up, and see discomfiture begin to settle into your rational thought, but only so long for me to witness it before you do, and then to pull that leash upward and fucking kiss you like I would kill the entire world in order to safeguard your happiness.
Because I would.
So let me collar you. Let me fuck your face like a whore.
Let me kiss you like the rest of humanity doesn’t matter anymore.
Feel me. Just fucking feel me. Feel this. This thing in my hand. Squeeze.
Just feel me.