The Bachelor’s Prayer

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“Whatcha got for me, honey?” I whispered in her ear, twining a hank of caramel hair around my fingers.”It’s a surprise, big boy,” she said, freeing my cock from my running shorts and palming it until I moaned.We both finished getting naked as fast as we could, given we couldn’t keep our hands off each other long enough to undo a button or pull down a zipper. But when I tried to push her back towards the couch, she shook her head.”Nu-uh, Charlie. I’m in charge today. We’re going to play.” “Whatcha got for me, honey?” I whispered in her ear, twining a hank of caramel hair around my fingers.”It’s a surprise, big boy,” she said, freeing my cock from my running shorts and palming it until I moaned.We both finished getting naked as fast as we could, given we couldn’t keep our hands off each other long enough to undo a button or pull down a zipper. But when I tried to push her back towards the couch, she shook her head.”Nu-uh, Charlie. I’m in charge today. We’re going to play.”

It’s pretty much same all over the world, I would guess. The Bachelor’s Prayer—dear lord, save us from needy girls, save us from greedy girls, save us from girls that turn into their mothers and save us, most of all, from girls who want to experiment with sex.

Okay, you’re looking at that last clause and I know what you’re thinking. What’s wrong with a little experimentation in the bedroom every now and again? And I couldn’t agree with you more. A little pushing, nudging of the boundaries is a fine thing. When I’m in control of it. But sometimes, a ballsy girl might push you a little too far. Take you out of your comfort zone and lead you along a path you don’t really want to explore…

For example, take what happened between me and this chick, Della. She was hot and when I picked her up, one Saturday afternoon down at Benny’s pool hall, she was wearing the shortest shorts—like, when she bent over the pool table… Well, you get the picture, don’t you? We went back to my place, sunk a few beers and got down to business—fast. She was a girl with a healthy appetite. I banged her brains out three times before Sunday morning and after that we were an item. She would come round to my apartment whenever she felt horny and that was pretty much every day. I began to get worried about the little man, that I’d wear him out or something. And the guys at work—the more exhausted I looked each morning when I came in, the more they laughed.

In other words, for about three weeks she was perfect.

But then, on the twenty-second straight day in a row that she’d come over, she was kind of ornery. We started making out on the couch when she suddenly pulled back from me.

“You know, Charlie, this is getting kinda boring.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My cock, straining up against the fabric of my shorts sure didn’t think so. “What d’you mean?”

“Like, you know,” she said. “Same thing every day. I come round. We kiss, I go down on you, you fuck me. I go home. Same thing each time.”

“You wanna do something different?” I asked. Myself, I couldn’t see the problem.

“Would you, Charlie?” she said. She had the cutest smile when something made her happy. “Would you really let me play?”

“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you want.”

Those are three words that, when you’re talking to a woman, you’d be wise to avoid. That was the lesson I was just about to learn.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ve got a couple of fun toys at home. I’ll bring them with me.”

Then she went down on me and, boy, was I in heaven for eleven and a half minutes.

The next day Della arrived at my place early. As soon as I let her in, she was all over me, kissing me, pulling at my clothes, shedding her own T-shirt on the way through to the living room.

“Whoa, tiger, what’s got you going?”

She held up a maroon canvas bag.

“Remember, you said we could play this afternoon.”

So I did. In a moment of recklessness, I’d told the girl she could do whatever she wanted. Oh boy! Trouble was coming my way.

But I didn’t know that then. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her, marvelling at how soft and warm her skin was, how pliant her lips. She kissed me back hard and I felt the pressure building in my cock.

“Whatcha got for me, honey?” I whispered in her ear, twining a hank of caramel hair around my fingers.

“It’s a surprise, big boy,” she said, freeing my cock from my running shorts and palming it until I moaned.

We both finished getting naked as fast as we could, given we couldn’t keep our hands off each other long enough to undo a button or pull down a zipper. But when I tried to push her back towards the couch, she shook her head.

“Nu-uh, Charlie. I’m in charge today. We’re going to play.”

“What d’you want me to do?”

“Kneel down here,” she said, pointing at the rug on the center of the floor, “and close your eyes.”

I did as she asked and I heard her go over to where she’d dropped her bag. Sounds of a zipper and then rustling reached my ears.

“I’m going to blindfold you,” she said, her voice coming back toward me. “Is that okay?”

I consulted with my cock, who turned out to be firmly in favour of it. I nodded and seconds later felt the soft caress of silk passing before my eyes. Grey became black as all light was blocked by the firm hug of the blindfold as Della tied a knot at the back of my head. She let her fingers trail down my back when she finished.

“We’re going to have so much fun, Charlie,” she whispered in my ear.

She stroked my cock and I grunted in anticipation.

“Stand up.”

She took my hand and led me through the room toward the breakfast area. I followed like a lamb to the slaughter, trusting and thrilled by the way my girl was looking after my pleasure.

“Bend over,” she said, and I let myself be guided into position.

As soon as I realised I was bent over the back of one of the dining chairs she had started cuffing me. Stiff leather cuffs, snaffling my wrists to the chair legs before I had time to blink behind my blindfold.

“Wow!” was all I could articulate. I was so turned on. This scene was superhot and my cock was rammed hard against the back of the chair. My hips flexed as I rubbed it up and down against the scratchy fabric. What was she going to do to me? It seemed I was in a prime position for a spanking and just the thought of it made my balls tighten. I’d never been spanked before but now I discovered that I wanted it. I tried to imagine what she’d use, what it would feel like…

When she had my ankles secured too, Della came up behind me and bent over my back, pressing the whole of her warm naked body against mine.

“Feel good, lover?” she said.

I shimmied my ass to show her my appreciation and she laughed.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Do you want to know or do you want to find out as it happens?” she asked.

That’s probably the most difficult question I can ever remember anybody asking me. I faltered and she wasn’t hanging around for an answer.

“I think it’s better if you just find out,” she said.

She peeled herself off me and I heard her rattling around in her bag of tricks again. Was she looking for a paddle? I braced myself, ready to take the first blow, aching for a taste of this new experience. Boy, had I hit the jackpot the day I picked up Della.

“Aghhh! What the fuck?”

Cold, wet lube.

In a place where I didn’t think it should go.

“What the fuck? Stop, Della! What are you doing?”

“Something up, babe?” she said, all the while her fingers smoothing that lube up and down my ass crack.

“You were supposed to spank me.”

“Spank you?” Her voice was all innocence. “I don’t remember that. And anyway, spanking guys does nothing for me.”

I jerked against my restraints as hard as I could, desperate to break free.

Della slopped more lube onto my ass and massaged it up and down with practised fingers.

“Relax, hon, just relax. You’re gonna love it.”

I was not going to love it. But I was starting to feel a little more turned on by each slippery pass she made along my crack. However, that didn’t mean I wanted any of her fingers burrowing their way up inside me. Hell, no, I wasn’t into that idea at all.

“Stop, Della, okay. This is me using my safe word, right. Please stop what you’re doing.”

Only we hadn’t picked a safe word when we’d started our play and the tremor in my voice seemed to be telling her a different story. Her fingers moved faster and my hips bucked against the chair. And when one of them ever so gently pressed against my hole, it felt so good I had to moan. I was conflicted—a big part of me, namely my brain, was saying no. But, and no one could be more shocked than I was, my butt was saying yes. Go for it. Go ahead, baby, do what you gotta do.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Della pushed a little harder against me and my traitor ass pushed back. When she used both hands to part my cheeks more widely, my muscles clenched and I whimpered, but another gentle stroke of lube helped with the relaxation. So did the occasional brush of a breast against my back. God, how I loved a puckered nipple and Della knew it.

She played around the edges for a bit and then finally I felt her assault on my inner sanctum. Just her pinky, I think, gently nudging against my tight ring of muscle. Each little push sent a tremor through me and my muscles first tightened up and then relaxed, wanting to welcome her in.

I was moaning loudly, still not really sure if I wanted this—at least mentally. Physically, it seemed my body had taken over. I pushed my ass out toward her and my muscles went soft as putty as her finger probed inside. The feeling was indescribable and my cock was banging up against the back of the chair in a hot frenzy. She drew her finger out and then pushed back in hard, making me yelp. For the next thrust, she used a bigger finger and all thoughts of spanking were forgotten.

“Oh, man, Della!” I whimpered.

“See, I told you you’d like it,” she said, finger fucking me with renewed vigor, until the chair started to march across the floor as I flexed my hips in response.

“Mmmm, I think you’re just about ready.” Her voice was like honeyed velvet in my ear.

Ready for what? Wasn’t this the main event? I was about to burst, any second, so there would be no point in reaching for the paddle now. She’d done her work and there wouldn’t be any going back.

She slicked more lube up and down my crack and the cold shock made a delightful contrast to her hot hands. She was very clever at lulling me into a false sense of security. Truly, this had been okay so far even when I thought, just for a moment at the beginning, things were going to get hairy.

And then they did. Things suddenly got a whole lot more hairy.

I didn’t know what I was feeling at first. Something hard and cold pushed up against my ass. Ran up and down my freshly lubed crack.

“Della?” I yelped.

“Honey, this is going to be great,” she purred.

The thing—and I knew it was a giant strap-on dildo even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself—pushed up hard against a hole that was now puckered up tighter than Fort Knox.

“No, baby, please,” I whimpered.

But my butt was still treacherous. It held nice and still as Della gently used the end of her dick to soften my ring. She just worked it softly, pushing and drawing back, pushing again and making a circle, pressing along the crack. And I felt my muscles start to uncoil. I was starting to open up for her. I wanted to open up for her. And she wanted me to, so badly. She kept pushing away, gently, gently, and then she must have been able to tell when she’d reached just the right point. Because all of a sudden the thing was in me, pushing up inside me, stretching my muscles, ripping into me with pain and pleasure in equal measure.

I cried, I shouted, I whined as Della fucked me with her great big dildo. I came all over the back of the chair, hot spurts of jiz spattering the tweedy material, sticking it to the front of my thighs as I yelled out my pleasure. Behind me, Della was moaning and groaning as she pushed into me and drew out. Looking down I could see how hard her legs were braced against the floor. Man, this chick was all boy, through and through, when she had that thing strapped onto her. Harder and faster she pumped my ass and as the spasms of my climax died away, she hit her own, grinding her hips against me to give her clit the pressure it needed.

“Fuck, Charlie, that was amazing!” she said, slumping hot and sweaty against my back.

I was flopped over the chair, burning with heat, exhausted, scratched and sticky at the front and on fire where her cock was still crammed tight up my ass.

“Was it good for you?” she said, as she finally pulled it out.

I think my yell said it all.

So remember, the Bachelor’s prayer. Lord save us from girls who want to experiment with sex.

But, hey, Della, will you bring that thing of yours back round next week?



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