Give and Take

“You might be better starting with something a little smaller,” I said, running my hand along the thick ebony shaft. The fact that he didn’t say anything made me look over in his direction. “What?” I asked, noting the sheepish look.

“Errr… I did start with something smaller.” I felt my heart skip a beat and my stomach flutter.

“So you’ve already tried sticking something in there?”

“Maybe,” he said, somewhat evasively.

“Really?” I was testing the weight of the eight-inch toy. Solid, heavy; expensive.

“I tried your toys.”

“My toys? Which ones?” He made a guilty little face and shrugged. He looked up and rolled his head from side to side. “All of them?”

“All the ones in your knickers drawer.”

“Well, I hope you washed them afterwards!” I hit him on the shoulder with the flat of my hand. I did it as hard as I could, but I wasn’t angry. I was too excited to be truly angry. The only response to my assault was that the bed groaned. I knew that it wasn’t possible to hurt my boyfriend unless he wanted me to; as a rugby prop forward he was 115kgs of bone and muscle – more than twice my weight and he could pick me up with one arm. I loved his muscles, his strength and his power. His bulk comforted me, made me feel protected but with that added spice of danger that comes from being with a man who can trap you if he happens to roll over in the night. I loved submitting to him, to his strength. To lie under him as he pinned my arms above my head and he drove his cock up into me was the most amazing feeling I’d ever had. I’d tried handcuffs before, but nothing compared to being in the bedroom – or anywhere else – with a man who could overpower me, do anything he wanted to me. Martin was the most exciting shag of my life. Or had been.

We still had sex, and it was still wonderfully satisfying – it had just lost its edge; it wasn’t adventurous in the way it had been at the start of our relationship… and I missed that. Having our own place was everything I’d ever wanted but having sex in the kitchen just wasn’t the same when there were no housemates to wander in at an inopportune moment. I remembered orgasming on the kitchen table in my old place while staring into my housemate’s eyes. I could still see the confused look on poor Anita’s face as she came in expecting to drop her shopping bags exactly where I was perched with Martin kneeling between my legs. We’d put something in the oven but he’d said that he couldn’t wait: “I need to eat something now,” he’d moaned.

“Well I suppose…,” I’d said, spreading my legs and pulling my knickers to one side. Martin had looked down at my exposed pussy, picked me up and dropped me onto the table. I’d howled as a fork dug into my bum but that was quickly forgotten as he pushed his face between my legs. My boyfriend could do wicked things with his tongue. My pussy twitched at the memory, at the power of the climax as Anita watched me being licked-out. I hadn’t orgasmed like that since… when we were new; when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I tried to remember the last time Martin had licked my pussy. My stomach sank a little with disappointment as I realised that I couldn’t recall it. When had the lust died? The love was still there, stronger than ever – but the lust? What I wouldn’t do to rekindle that sexual excitement…

Wherever it had been, the lust was back now. Love, trust and all those wonderful elements of a proper relationship. Those solid foundations meant Martin was able to communicate something special with me; a fantasy which he wanted to not just share but act-out with me. My body tingled with carnal passions. The man I loved, looking at me with a complicated mixture of desire and puppy-dog eyes; pleading for understanding of his perversion.

“Do you want me to put it on?” I asked, holding the enormous fake cock against the crotch of my skirt.

“I’d love you to put it on.” There was relief… but also a note of awe. The air was almost crackling with sexual energies as lust and excitement filled the bedroom for the first time in months. He helped me undress. He towered over me, making me feel like sexual prey. Not this time. Big hands moved with surprising grace as he worked my clothes, years of training meant that they automatically hung my work clothes on the correct hanger.

“No – leave them on,” he instructed, as I moved to slip my suspenders off. “And maybe you could put your heels on?”

“Which ones?” I knew which ones he meant, but made him ask anyway.

“The shiny black ones with the huge heels.” I smiled as he confirmed my suspicions – with a four-inch heel, I’d only be eight inches shorter than my boyfriend.

I went to the spare bedroom to collect the shoes and took the black cock and its associated attachments with me. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror, I held it against my crotch, admiring it from all angles. It certainly was a magnificent specimen. Eight inches long, complete with big black balls. I held the thing by those balls and teased it against my lips. I watched myself in the mirror as I pushed it into my mouth, stretching my scarlet-painted lips into thin lines. I looked good sucking on a big black cock. Very good. Sexy. That observation quickly spiralled: a bolt of excitement speared down into my pussy. I wanted it, wanted that enormous toy inside me. My boyfriend had apparently been using my toys, now it was my turn to use his.

My pussy tingled as I thought about it stretching me open. Sliding the crotch of my knickers to one side, I guided the thick black rod up between my legs. It looked enormous as I held it between my thighs. Was I really going to do this? The anticipation of trying it, of what it would feel like was absolutely delicious. I teased myself with it, allowed the anticipation to build. I imagined resting it on the floor, crouching down over it, guiding it to my pussy and sinking down, impaling myself on the plastic treat, making my every nerve fire in ecstasy.

My body was pulsing in anticipation as I dug a couple of fingers inside my pussy, stretching, helping my hole to juice-up. I was ready. Through the cold surge of an adrenaline rush, I felt my smouldering need explode. His toy, inside me. As the hard surface pressed in bluntly, I wondered at what I was trying: it was truly gigantic. But even as I thought that, the tip of the fake-cock eased inside my pussy.

I rubbed my clit, horny – not just at the dirty thing I was doing to myself but the fact that my boyfriend was waiting patiently just across the hallway. The stretching continued, and I felt a deliciously satisfying feeling of being full. I rubbed my clit harder and heightened my pleasure by tugging the base of the dildo back and forth. I imagined Martin coming looking for me, finding me impaled on his new toy. I looked to the mirror and was shocked to see that over half the dildo was ‘missing’ – buried inside my cunt. I never used the ‘c’ word. Martin wouldn’t let me; he said it was vulgar. But it felt right to use it now, with his stolen toy buried deep inside me.

The combination of pleasures was intense and the whole cock was getting slippery with my juices. My clitoris started throbbing, the first stage of an explosive orgasm. I was aching to come, my pussy stretched well beyond its normal dimensions, far beyond what was needed to accommodate my boyfriend’s cock. Could I do it quietly? Would he hear – come looking? The blend of fear, excitement and physical pain and pleasure twisted into a complicated burst of elation as I made myself come. I screamed-out silently as I fought to contain the mixture of intense feelings. It seemed to go on forever, each orgasmic wave firing ecstasy in my throbbing clit before a delicious echo of agony followed as my pussy tightened around the enormous dildo. Only gradually did the waves subside and I was left with a deep glow of sexual satisfaction.

As I woozily pulled at the dildo’s attachments, I wondered at how I was supposed to attach the tangle of straps to my crotch. Eventually, a harness materialised, looking like a safety attachment from a climbing wall. I laid it on the floor, stepped into it and pulled it up like a pair of wire-frame panties. By yanking on each buckle in turn, I felt the straps tighten securely around the cheeks of my bum and between my legs. It took a moment to fiddle the sticky cock into place but I was surprised at how secure and sturdy it felt. I turned to admire it in the dressing mirror and immediately burst-out laughing. For the first time in my life, I had a cock pointing-out from my crotch. The fact that that it was black with and bright-pink knob on the end made it look ridiculous. A skinny, little white girl with an enormous black cock?

I suddenly stopped laughing – I was going to fuck my boyfriend with this cock. Swivelling my hips from side-to-side, I watched the way it swung with my body, as though it was a part of me. I loved the way it took a moment to react to my changes of direction, just like a real cock. It looked odd sticking-out like that… I think I preferred it when it was sticking in… my pussy clenched as it remembered what it had felt like inside me. Did Martin really know what he was doing in trying to stick it up his ass? I wondered… would it fit? “Only one way to find-out,” I thought to myself as stepped into my shoes, turned away from the mirror and headed back to our bedroom.

The landing carpet is thick and I made Martin jump as I followed the black cock into the bedroom. He was on the bed, naked, stroking his cock. His eyes were glued to my crotch, or rather at the black cock bouncing in front of it. His cock, already hard, seemed to swell a little as I gripped mine and pointed it towards him. I didn’t say a thing as I stood in front of him but with a surge of excitement, I realised that he was waiting for me… and that I was in charge.

I knew how I wanted it to start: I’d pictured it in my head as soon as I’d strapped myself into the harness and looked down. I wanted him to suck my cock. It might not have been real and I wasn’t going to get any physical pleasure from it but I wanted him to do it, wanted to make him do it. It was his turn to suck cock. I smiled as I pushed it towards his face. “Suck it,” I instructed.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied instantly, and leant forward, looking me in the eye as he took the tip in his mouth. Whether he recognised the tang of my pussy juices on the plastic was impossible to tell, but he sucked with greedy enthusiasm. My boyfriend took the head and then some of the shaft, making slurpy gagging noises as he took it deeper. I knotted my fingers in his hair and pushed forward. He did well… a little too well.

“Oooh, you like that, don’t you?” I cooed. “You like it when I push my cock deep into your mouth.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The voice was muffled but understandable.

“I’m wondering how much you can take… at least another inch,” I said, pushing forward again, while holding his head in place. I wanted him to feel what I felt when I took him deeply but knew that the plastic wouldn’t compare to the pulsing heat of a real cock. It looked goddam sexy seeing my boyfriend sucking down on my cock – but I was eager to get down to business. “You’re a good little cock-sucker,” I said, extracting my cock.

“Thank-you, Mistress.” I found that I liked the ‘Mistress’ thing – it actually empowered me, as though I was playing a character with the authority to fulfil my desires.

“Show me your arsehole.” I’d never seen an arsehole before, not in real life – only in pornos and even then they’d belonged to girls. My blood was rushing as my boyfriend rolled onto his back and hooked his thick wrists behind his knees. There it was; a dark knot of muscle hiding in the hair below his ball sack. It was shiny.

“Have you been playing with it?” I asked sharply.

“No Mistress. I just cleaned and lubricated it, Mistress – for you Mistress.”

‘This is really going to happen – he’s really going to let me do it,’ I thought to myself. I left him in the rolled-up position and went to my drawer, bending from the waist to give him a full view of my stocking-clad legs and the straps biting into my bum, holding my cock in place. I recovered my lubricant and my largest vibrators. “Have you used this one?” I asked, holding the purple cylinder where he could see it.

“Yes, Mistress.” Fuck! I almost asked him to show me but caught myself at the last moment. I was in control here. I worked my way onto the bed, kneeling between his splayed legs. Martin’s eyes were on stalks, flicking their focus from my cock to my fingers as I squirted a line of clear gel along my index finger. My heart was thumping out of my chest as I brought it down to the unexplored region between his buttocks. He jumped when I touched him and I saw both testicles leap out of the way within their protective sack. I rubbed my fingertip over the rough knot of flesh, marvelling at how hairy he was down there. And then I pushed. Just the fingertip at first but even that was a momentous occasion. I’d crossed a threshold. Not many girls got to stick their finger up a boy’s bum.

It was smooth and velvety inside – soft but with a hard muscular crush. His bumhole was already wet and slippery with lubricant and I pushed again, meeting no resistance beyond the tight ring of muscle guarding the entrance. It felt like empty space, my finger in a void as it slipped in further and deeper. It looked so dirty; my knuckle, small, smooth and white pressed against the darker hairy buttocks of my boyfriend, knowing that my entire finger was inside his bum.

“Hmmmmm.” Martin fell out of character as I fingered his arse. “I can’t believe you’ve got your finger up my arse.”

“Me neither,” I giggled. “Do you want another one?” One finger was never enough in my pussy – enough to tease but never enough to satisfy.

“Oh God, that’d be wonderful,” he groaned. I took my index finger, paired it with my middle finger and twisted them through my boyfriend’s arsehole. It looked and felt exquisite as I coiled them up inside him, worked them deeper and parted them to stretch his flesh. “Hmmmmm… I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” he murmured, wriggling towards me. I’d never imagined being allowed to do anything like this to anyone – but it seemed like there was a whole new world of opportunity to explore.

I didn’t warn him as I picked-up the larger vibrator and slid it in under my finger. The tapered point instantly dilated my boyfriend’s arsehole and as I extracted my fingers, the vibe sank in over four inches without any effort at all. He jolted as I twisted the base to activate the powerful motor. I pushed it in and out – fucked him with it – as I gripped his erection and wanked it with my slippery hand. Martin groaned, a deep note speaking of the intensity of the sexual pleasure I was giving him. My pussy ached to be touched – but even more than that, I ached to fuck him with my cock.

He might not have been ready… but I was. I squirted lubricant on both hands and revelled in the dirtiness of wanking two cocks simultaneously. Mine might have been bigger and harder but his was more eager. It was throbbing with barely-contained excitement, ready to explode at any moment. It was a long time since I’d felt it like that. Kneeling on the bed, I eased the two cocks together until they were almost touching, before dipping mine down into his anal cleft at the last moment. This was it – the moment of truth. I pressed forward and watched in awe as my cock appeared to shorten. The head disappeared completely as the shaft penetrated, forcing it further and further inside my boyfriend’s bottom. I shuffled forward and repeated the process, eliciting a shocked gasp. “Fuck; that feels so big!”

Martin was still gripping the backs of his legs, splaying them wide, leaving himself entirely at my mercy. I dragged my hips back, watching as the cock lengthened again before shoving them forward. It wasn’t a natural movement, although I quickly found that I could maximize the thrust by curling my lower back. “Oooh, fuck!” Martin groaned, as I drove it into him, deeper and harder. He wanted it, and I gave it to him. “Try doing it with longer strokes,” he begged. It took a moment to work-out the logistics but by resting my weight on his uplifted thigh I achieved better leverage, balance and control. I could fuck him properly – like he did to me.

I fucked him with the long deep strokes which he had begged for.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” he whimpered. “You’re hitting-off something inside me.” I took hold of his cock with my right hand and wanked him with the same long strokes with which I was penetrating his arse. He tensed and looked down at his cock, just as it started leaking juices. It wasn’t like a ‘normal’ ejaculation; there were no distinctive contractions, no spray of spunk; it just leaked from his cock in a steady, unrelenting flow, like a wounded pot of yoghurt. The flow went on and on and on… as did the associated pleasure. “Don’t stop,” he begged, even as his erection faded. “I need to cum again.” It was a desperate plea and he took over, pinching his flaccid cock between fingers and thumb. “Fuck me, hard and fast this time.”

My arousal level went off the chart. My boyfriend was begging me to fuck him as he wanked. I needed to do something, anything to stimulate myself – but my entire pussy was covered, out of reach. Nasty primitive instincts took over and I grabbed the unused vibrator, twisted the base and guided the tip onto my arsehole. I needed something inside me and I didn’t care what or where. As I thought about what I had instinctively done, I realised that I wanted to feel what he was feeling, share the anal onslaught with my gorgeous boyfriend.

I fired a messy, inaccurate salvo of lubricant over my lower back and smeared it between my buttocks, before hopelessly trying to jam the vibrator inside my arse. I’d never done it before and it was impossible as my bum thrust back and forth as I fucked Martin. I paused but still found it surprisingly difficult to penetrate my arse. It was so tight that it took both hands for force it in. But in it went, immediately giving me a very odd sensation. The distant buzzing of the vibrator passed into my pussy, transferring through both the hard base of the strap-on and the adjacent walls of soft flesh inside. It was hard to concentrate as I fucked my own bum with the vibrator while simultaneously driving my cock into my boyfriend.

There was some wonderful stimulation and my pleasure built quickly. It so different to ‘normal’ sex- physically, in terms of what I was doing – but also in the psychology of it – I was the fucker, not the fuckee. It was intensely erotic and listening to my boyfriend moan and gasp as I drove into him gave me a sense of power and control which I had never felt before. It was thinking about what I was doing as much as actually doing it that finally sent me over the edge.

The orgasm was cataclysmic; wild and uncontrolled as my neglected clitoris throbbed and my empty pussy contracted desperately… but an inch away, my bum sang with ecstasy as I threw my head back and laughed. It was primal; an utter loss of control, a final release of physical and emotional tension, replaced first by sexual ecstasy and then by unadulterated joy; my God, it felt wonderful. Martin’s body writhed as I buried the fake cock fully up his arse and he let out an elongated sigh of satisfaction, his proud erection spurting jets of cum up onto his chest.

“I reckon I could take something a little bigger,” he said, flicking his eyebrows at me. I reckoned that my cheeky boyfriend could take something a little bigger too. This one had been a too easy for him.

“Perhaps I should come shopping with you next time,” I said, lying on my back, holding my unrelenting cock in the air, imagining an even bigger one rising from my crotch. When it came to anal games, if he was willing to take; I was more than willing to give.