Thank You, Kama Sutra Man Part 1/2
Thank You, Kama Sutra Man
A/N: Basically a two part PWP based off of the heavy bondage pic I drew for Pixlegoddess.
This is the first part of the Tale of the Rubber Underwear told from Colin's POV, and if you haven't seen the picture these two ficlets are based off of, it's on my LJ.
Contains adult themes and hot sweaty man sex heavy with BDSM
Enjoy!
-PD&Glyph
Part 1
Colin
I love it when Ryan lets me go shopping for us.
I’ve loved it since that first night more than twenty years ago, when I bought him a case of his favorite beer and helped him drink it to celebrate getting our first apartment together. Somewhere in between the 24 bottles of beer we consumed, talk turned to strange things we’d done during sex. We boasted, of course we did, any red-blooded male would, before we got more daring in the telling of experiences.
In the orchestra pit in high school.
On a trampoline in the backyard.
He threw down having sex on a train with a hot blonde chick he didn’t know in Vancouver last year like a trump card, his grin smug, his whole attitude arrogantly triumphant. My only excuse to blurting out my winning hand was a mixture of pride, alcohol, and curiosity. I admitted to having sex with a man while I was tied up. Ryan gave me the Slow Turn.
You know, the one you always see in a horror movie where the victim knows the killer is behind them with a chainsaw made of steak knives?
I’d flushed a violent red immediately, didn’t have to look at his face, and I made to leave to bury myself alive when he caught me by the arm and asked what it was like to be with a man. I surprised him by offering to show him, and he surprised me even more by agreeing.
I’ve loved it since we had a nicer apartment in an okay part of London in the 80’s. The sun was hidden behind pouring rainclouds, and we were laying on our old mattress, the Magic Carpet he called it, watching the rain carve rivulets in the grey sunlight managing to paint our skin.
That’s when he first tentatively confessed he was interested in the Scene from some of the fetish magazines I’d collected over the years.
I’d given his lips, set in a nervous smile, a sloppy kiss that had him laughing and immediately ran out and bought him a set of rubber-tipped nipple clamps, tied his hands and feet to the mattress, and made love to him on my terms.
He said it was the best birthday he’d ever had.
I’ve loved it since he started asking me about cock-n-ball torture; “Only mild stuff…” he hastened to assure me, as though I’d judge him on it or something equally bizarre. “I’ve seen pictures that would make you queasy,” he shudders.
I had, too, and by then, I’d probably done things that would make him think twice. I’d smiled warmly and pecked his nervous lips until they turned into a broad grin before I dragged him into the bedroom and wrapped his entire organ, balls and all, in black electrical tape. It was something I’d done before, and done right, produces a tight throbbing, the shaft kept at rigid attention.
His once nervous smile turned into a small O of pleasure, his eyes glazed, and his breath was tight.
I didn’t mind a bit as he stripped me of my clothes and threw me bodily onto the bed, slapped a little lube on the both of us and rode my already needy prick until my eyes rolled up into my head, crying out around a mouth-full of his tongue, my hands in his hair, and our tight sighs, groans, and grunts drowning out the creaking of the boxsprings.
After he made me come so hard my toes couldn’t uncurl right away, I peeled away his throbbing cock’s shiny black prison, lubed myself up eagerly and rolled over to lay on my stomach, legs spread wide.
I have never been fucked like that before in my life.
I had nail marks on my shoulders and back for weeks, and my voice was raw for days from screaming his name from the second he slammed inside to when he pulled out and pumped himself, signing his work across my back in thick, hot ropes of his seed with a strangled scream.
I’m hard now just thinking about it, the near-scorching liquid dribbling down the small of my back…
So here I am now, sitting in the parking lot of the studio for a quick promotional Sunday Night Football commercial shoot, having just driven here from a short shopping trip. With a small grunt, I adjusted the new toy I’d gotten for Ryan, currently wrapped around my goods.
For those of you confused as to why his toy was wrapped around my ‘how’s your father’ instead of his, there’s a law in a book every fetishist should have, called The Master and Slaves Bible. It’s a commandment that I always followed to the letter: ‘Nothing shall be done to thine Slave that hath not been done to the Master first.’
If you can’t handle it, chances are your slave might not be able to either, unless agreed upon. So now I was wearing a pair of white rubber tighty-whities with strategic holes for my balls and cock. A dual cock ring, if you must, and god help me, the feel of the rubber was like a second skin, with a slight slide of the powder inside, and the tightness around the base of my organs just made me sit there, hands at ten and two, and shudder, gasping like a wounded fish.
When I’d finally calmed myself down to where I wouldn’t look ready to have a heart attack, I pursed my lips, pondering if I really needed to be wearing my second pair of underwear when the reason why I probably should bent down in front of my driver window. I rolled it down, smiling up at my handsome lover.
He returned it tenderly before his eyes grew dark and his grin turned predatory. “Hey Col, how’d the shopping trip go?”
“Honey, may I go shopping for us?” I’d asked earlier that morning, oh so innocently.
He’d given me a funny look over his coffee before his broke into a dark, knowing smile, curiosity burning in his aqua eyes. He had a tendency to enjoy my shopping trips for us. “Gonna tell me what you’re buying?”
“No. May I go shopping for us?” I repeated, smiling back.
“Please do,” he purred.
“It went wonderfully, I think you’ll like it, but you can’t have it just yet.”
“Are you trying it first?”
“Yes.”
“Cool,” he leaned into the window completely and sucked on my earlobe and the spot behind it, before delving into my ear and making me shudder violently. “They’re waiting for us in the C building.” He murmured over the wet skin while his hand wandered over my nipples, and he came down to give my lower lip a playful nip before his hand coasted over my erection, quiveringly hard now in its barely-confining prison of tight rubber, Fruit of the Looms best, and loose tan slacks. “My god Col, what are you wearing?”
“Can’t tell you,” I moaned, biting my lip as his dexterous hands explored my aching organ. I grabbed his hands just before he tugged up my shirt to work at my pants buttons and waggled my finger. “You aren’t allowed to see it yet. Not until I’m done testing it.”
His eyes widened as I took a deep breath to steady myself and got out of my car, and he followed me closely as we walked into the studio. I could get used to this if Ryan cooperated and didn’t get me too hot and bothered. “You’re wearing it into the filming?” he gaped, stopping me.
“Is that alright with you?” I raised my eyebrows. He was, after all, still my boss.
“What’s it doing to you?” he asked, frowning.
I shrugged. “I supposed you can know that, to make sure I won’t hurt the show.”
“Or to make sure that you don’t get hurt, but if you’re feeling like a martyr today, that works, too,” he rolled his eyes.
“Shut up. It’s kind of like a ring. I can handle it for the promo as long as I don’t do anything stupid or get too out of hand. Hopefully I can just stare at Drew if I get too excited,” I laughed, but he wasn’t laughing with me.
No, his eyes were glittering with a wicked light that told me one thing. Ryan wasn’t going to play nice. His grin turned downright evil. “You mean… if you get hard-”
“It’ll be very difficult to concentrate, Ryan, and I might have to punish you if I don’t earn my paycheck to my satisfaction,” I said sternly, as though I actually cared about that stuff. He gave me a pouting look, completely ignoring my warning glare, because we both knew what he was going to do already.
“Fine, I’ll be good, I promise,” he sighed.
I grinned as we walked inside. Liar.
He wasn’t good at all. He teased me with endless touches, dark smiles and darker glances, bending over to grab the football, his long legs packed into shining leggings that hugged his plump ass and his cock to perfection and he knew it. I knew absolutely nothing about football, had never wanted to, but I was seriously considering buying his costume off the studio, plus the referee’s uniform they had on me.
It was something to do with the vague image of Ryan with black streaks under his eyes and wearing naught but his leggings, socks and cleats as he sucked me off that appealed greatly. It sounded like a start to a fun evening, really, but I already had plans for tonight.
At that point I was so hard it was sweet agony, my cheeks pink with the effort to breathe normally and not fling Ryan onto the craft service table and screw his brains out.
Instead, I settled for dragging him home, and ordering him to strip. His eyes glittered with burning sensuality, a sight that never failed to make me want to stop, drop, and worship him as he stood, naked and beautiful in our warm, roomy bedroom. Instead, I settled for tugging off my jacket and shoes from the padded bench at the foot of our bed, not watching him watch me.
“You were a very bad slave today, Ry,” I murmured, rising and approaching him slowly, fully clothed in the warm, dim lighting of our hodge podge of lamps. I didn’t even bother to conceal how much I needed him right now. My hands shook as they held the handkerchief, and there was the smallest tremor in my voice. “We both know you did it on purpose.” I looked up at him, licking sweat from my upper lip.
His eyes were wide and greedy on the black scarf in my hands, and behind it, the significant bulge in my pants.
“You know what I’m offering. Do you want it?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he whispered back hoarsely. “God yes.”
I slipped the scarf around his eyes and put him on his knees on the bed, no pretenses, no foreplay for me, I didn’t need it. The only thing I did do besides the blindfold was cuff his wrists above his head to the headboard, so he was resting more or less on his knees and elbows.
I undressed quickly, shaking now at the sight of him spread out for me, and grabbed a lubricant from the drawer of it, and slid in behind, keeping my turgid organ away from him as I prepared him, a part I’d always loved. Whether it was for vanilla sex or for hard playing, preparing Ryan’s asshole was always a sweet treat, one that I took my time with just to hear all of the little noises he can make.
He was only ready for me when he was begging, his cock dripping onto the sheets below and his back covered in a dew of salty, sweaty musk, his hands clenching at their bonds. I’d swelled so much that I couldn’t hide the small sounds I made as I coated it with lube, and when I pressed inside, I didn’t even bother. Ryan’s wails filled my ears as I pressed shaky kisses up and down his spine, my eyes dark, my head spinning.
Another inch.
I gripped his hips tightly, keeping him in place as his body began to buck and fight all on its own as I sank another inch. He was growling under my hands and pulling the chains, the headboard creaking as he struggled to touch me. “More, damn you!” he moaned, a string of curses following quickly after.
I took him at his word and gave him all of it. I felt myself slide into the dip just before the end of him, a perfect fit, my raging need fully sheathed in his sweetly spasming body, and we let out a moan that could probably be heard for miles.
I didn’t even give him a chance to do more than take a breath before I gripped his beautiful hips, the perfect handles for any number of positions, and pulled him back on my swollen need. Sweeping a free hand up his slick back, running shaking fingers through his hair and tugging, biting my lip as he let out a hoarse cry every time my hips flew to meet him.
I pulled out suddenly, Ryan’s gasp hiding my whimper as I rolled him onto his back, pulled his knees over my shoulders and sank back home.
Oh, god his face, even half obscured by the blindfold. His head was thrown back, body rocking, jerking every time our skin slapped together. His stomach was smeared with precome, his back arched at this new angle of invasion, and he let out a scream that would turn any man’s head as I brushed his sweet spot again and again and again.
“So beautiful,” I said, I think to myself, and reached down, smearing my hand through the cooling precome on his belly, through the soft curls above his enormous sex. His stuff was slick and copious between my fingers, like it always was, and when I gripped him tightly and worked his shaft in a blur of motion, it took seconds before he was jetting onto his stomach and my hand with a shout of my name, coating us.
I thrust as I pulled at him, feeling his body spasm deliciously, the rubber slick with sweat now, my balls thick and tight, and so fucking ready to fill him. Only when he begged me by my name did I erupt inside of him, making me scream his name now, god it felt so good…
I thought I’d never stop.
We came to a little while later, sweat gelling as it cooled on our overheated skin, our bodies sticking together with various fluids, and with a flick of the finger on the catch, his hands were released.
Immediately, they searched me out and pulled me closer, ignoring the blindfold in favor of giving me a kiss that had me believing in god all over again, even as I softened and slipped free of him. “I love it when you go shopping for us,” he whispered, not out of desire for quiet but because his voice was ruined for a time.
I did my job well, and I smiled the smug smile of the intensely sated and well loved. “We haven’t used what I bought on you yet.”
He whipped the handkerchief off, staring at me with wide, hungry eyes.
I love it when Ryan lets me go shopping for us.
A/N: Basically a two part PWP based off of the heavy bondage pic I drew for Pixlegoddess.
This is the first part of the Tale of the Rubber Underwear told from Colin's POV, and if you haven't seen the picture these two ficlets are based off of, it's on my LJ.
Contains adult themes and hot sweaty man sex heavy with BDSM
Enjoy!
-PD&Glyph
Part 1
Colin
I love it when Ryan lets me go shopping for us.
I’ve loved it since that first night more than twenty years ago, when I bought him a case of his favorite beer and helped him drink it to celebrate getting our first apartment together. Somewhere in between the 24 bottles of beer we consumed, talk turned to strange things we’d done during sex. We boasted, of course we did, any red-blooded male would, before we got more daring in the telling of experiences.
In the orchestra pit in high school.
On a trampoline in the backyard.
He threw down having sex on a train with a hot blonde chick he didn’t know in Vancouver last year like a trump card, his grin smug, his whole attitude arrogantly triumphant. My only excuse to blurting out my winning hand was a mixture of pride, alcohol, and curiosity. I admitted to having sex with a man while I was tied up. Ryan gave me the Slow Turn.
You know, the one you always see in a horror movie where the victim knows the killer is behind them with a chainsaw made of steak knives?
I’d flushed a violent red immediately, didn’t have to look at his face, and I made to leave to bury myself alive when he caught me by the arm and asked what it was like to be with a man. I surprised him by offering to show him, and he surprised me even more by agreeing.
I’ve loved it since we had a nicer apartment in an okay part of London in the 80’s. The sun was hidden behind pouring rainclouds, and we were laying on our old mattress, the Magic Carpet he called it, watching the rain carve rivulets in the grey sunlight managing to paint our skin.
That’s when he first tentatively confessed he was interested in the Scene from some of the fetish magazines I’d collected over the years.
I’d given his lips, set in a nervous smile, a sloppy kiss that had him laughing and immediately ran out and bought him a set of rubber-tipped nipple clamps, tied his hands and feet to the mattress, and made love to him on my terms.
He said it was the best birthday he’d ever had.
I’ve loved it since he started asking me about cock-n-ball torture; “Only mild stuff…” he hastened to assure me, as though I’d judge him on it or something equally bizarre. “I’ve seen pictures that would make you queasy,” he shudders.
I had, too, and by then, I’d probably done things that would make him think twice. I’d smiled warmly and pecked his nervous lips until they turned into a broad grin before I dragged him into the bedroom and wrapped his entire organ, balls and all, in black electrical tape. It was something I’d done before, and done right, produces a tight throbbing, the shaft kept at rigid attention.
His once nervous smile turned into a small O of pleasure, his eyes glazed, and his breath was tight.
I didn’t mind a bit as he stripped me of my clothes and threw me bodily onto the bed, slapped a little lube on the both of us and rode my already needy prick until my eyes rolled up into my head, crying out around a mouth-full of his tongue, my hands in his hair, and our tight sighs, groans, and grunts drowning out the creaking of the boxsprings.
After he made me come so hard my toes couldn’t uncurl right away, I peeled away his throbbing cock’s shiny black prison, lubed myself up eagerly and rolled over to lay on my stomach, legs spread wide.
I have never been fucked like that before in my life.
I had nail marks on my shoulders and back for weeks, and my voice was raw for days from screaming his name from the second he slammed inside to when he pulled out and pumped himself, signing his work across my back in thick, hot ropes of his seed with a strangled scream.
I’m hard now just thinking about it, the near-scorching liquid dribbling down the small of my back…
So here I am now, sitting in the parking lot of the studio for a quick promotional Sunday Night Football commercial shoot, having just driven here from a short shopping trip. With a small grunt, I adjusted the new toy I’d gotten for Ryan, currently wrapped around my goods.
For those of you confused as to why his toy was wrapped around my ‘how’s your father’ instead of his, there’s a law in a book every fetishist should have, called The Master and Slaves Bible. It’s a commandment that I always followed to the letter: ‘Nothing shall be done to thine Slave that hath not been done to the Master first.’
If you can’t handle it, chances are your slave might not be able to either, unless agreed upon. So now I was wearing a pair of white rubber tighty-whities with strategic holes for my balls and cock. A dual cock ring, if you must, and god help me, the feel of the rubber was like a second skin, with a slight slide of the powder inside, and the tightness around the base of my organs just made me sit there, hands at ten and two, and shudder, gasping like a wounded fish.
When I’d finally calmed myself down to where I wouldn’t look ready to have a heart attack, I pursed my lips, pondering if I really needed to be wearing my second pair of underwear when the reason why I probably should bent down in front of my driver window. I rolled it down, smiling up at my handsome lover.
He returned it tenderly before his eyes grew dark and his grin turned predatory. “Hey Col, how’d the shopping trip go?”
“Honey, may I go shopping for us?” I’d asked earlier that morning, oh so innocently.
He’d given me a funny look over his coffee before his broke into a dark, knowing smile, curiosity burning in his aqua eyes. He had a tendency to enjoy my shopping trips for us. “Gonna tell me what you’re buying?”
“No. May I go shopping for us?” I repeated, smiling back.
“Please do,” he purred.
“It went wonderfully, I think you’ll like it, but you can’t have it just yet.”
“Are you trying it first?”
“Yes.”
“Cool,” he leaned into the window completely and sucked on my earlobe and the spot behind it, before delving into my ear and making me shudder violently. “They’re waiting for us in the C building.” He murmured over the wet skin while his hand wandered over my nipples, and he came down to give my lower lip a playful nip before his hand coasted over my erection, quiveringly hard now in its barely-confining prison of tight rubber, Fruit of the Looms best, and loose tan slacks. “My god Col, what are you wearing?”
“Can’t tell you,” I moaned, biting my lip as his dexterous hands explored my aching organ. I grabbed his hands just before he tugged up my shirt to work at my pants buttons and waggled my finger. “You aren’t allowed to see it yet. Not until I’m done testing it.”
His eyes widened as I took a deep breath to steady myself and got out of my car, and he followed me closely as we walked into the studio. I could get used to this if Ryan cooperated and didn’t get me too hot and bothered. “You’re wearing it into the filming?” he gaped, stopping me.
“Is that alright with you?” I raised my eyebrows. He was, after all, still my boss.
“What’s it doing to you?” he asked, frowning.
I shrugged. “I supposed you can know that, to make sure I won’t hurt the show.”
“Or to make sure that you don’t get hurt, but if you’re feeling like a martyr today, that works, too,” he rolled his eyes.
“Shut up. It’s kind of like a ring. I can handle it for the promo as long as I don’t do anything stupid or get too out of hand. Hopefully I can just stare at Drew if I get too excited,” I laughed, but he wasn’t laughing with me.
No, his eyes were glittering with a wicked light that told me one thing. Ryan wasn’t going to play nice. His grin turned downright evil. “You mean… if you get hard-”
“It’ll be very difficult to concentrate, Ryan, and I might have to punish you if I don’t earn my paycheck to my satisfaction,” I said sternly, as though I actually cared about that stuff. He gave me a pouting look, completely ignoring my warning glare, because we both knew what he was going to do already.
“Fine, I’ll be good, I promise,” he sighed.
I grinned as we walked inside. Liar.
He wasn’t good at all. He teased me with endless touches, dark smiles and darker glances, bending over to grab the football, his long legs packed into shining leggings that hugged his plump ass and his cock to perfection and he knew it. I knew absolutely nothing about football, had never wanted to, but I was seriously considering buying his costume off the studio, plus the referee’s uniform they had on me.
It was something to do with the vague image of Ryan with black streaks under his eyes and wearing naught but his leggings, socks and cleats as he sucked me off that appealed greatly. It sounded like a start to a fun evening, really, but I already had plans for tonight.
At that point I was so hard it was sweet agony, my cheeks pink with the effort to breathe normally and not fling Ryan onto the craft service table and screw his brains out.
Instead, I settled for dragging him home, and ordering him to strip. His eyes glittered with burning sensuality, a sight that never failed to make me want to stop, drop, and worship him as he stood, naked and beautiful in our warm, roomy bedroom. Instead, I settled for tugging off my jacket and shoes from the padded bench at the foot of our bed, not watching him watch me.
“You were a very bad slave today, Ry,” I murmured, rising and approaching him slowly, fully clothed in the warm, dim lighting of our hodge podge of lamps. I didn’t even bother to conceal how much I needed him right now. My hands shook as they held the handkerchief, and there was the smallest tremor in my voice. “We both know you did it on purpose.” I looked up at him, licking sweat from my upper lip.
His eyes were wide and greedy on the black scarf in my hands, and behind it, the significant bulge in my pants.
“You know what I’m offering. Do you want it?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he whispered back hoarsely. “God yes.”
I slipped the scarf around his eyes and put him on his knees on the bed, no pretenses, no foreplay for me, I didn’t need it. The only thing I did do besides the blindfold was cuff his wrists above his head to the headboard, so he was resting more or less on his knees and elbows.
I undressed quickly, shaking now at the sight of him spread out for me, and grabbed a lubricant from the drawer of it, and slid in behind, keeping my turgid organ away from him as I prepared him, a part I’d always loved. Whether it was for vanilla sex or for hard playing, preparing Ryan’s asshole was always a sweet treat, one that I took my time with just to hear all of the little noises he can make.
He was only ready for me when he was begging, his cock dripping onto the sheets below and his back covered in a dew of salty, sweaty musk, his hands clenching at their bonds. I’d swelled so much that I couldn’t hide the small sounds I made as I coated it with lube, and when I pressed inside, I didn’t even bother. Ryan’s wails filled my ears as I pressed shaky kisses up and down his spine, my eyes dark, my head spinning.
Another inch.
I gripped his hips tightly, keeping him in place as his body began to buck and fight all on its own as I sank another inch. He was growling under my hands and pulling the chains, the headboard creaking as he struggled to touch me. “More, damn you!” he moaned, a string of curses following quickly after.
I took him at his word and gave him all of it. I felt myself slide into the dip just before the end of him, a perfect fit, my raging need fully sheathed in his sweetly spasming body, and we let out a moan that could probably be heard for miles.
I didn’t even give him a chance to do more than take a breath before I gripped his beautiful hips, the perfect handles for any number of positions, and pulled him back on my swollen need. Sweeping a free hand up his slick back, running shaking fingers through his hair and tugging, biting my lip as he let out a hoarse cry every time my hips flew to meet him.
I pulled out suddenly, Ryan’s gasp hiding my whimper as I rolled him onto his back, pulled his knees over my shoulders and sank back home.
Oh, god his face, even half obscured by the blindfold. His head was thrown back, body rocking, jerking every time our skin slapped together. His stomach was smeared with precome, his back arched at this new angle of invasion, and he let out a scream that would turn any man’s head as I brushed his sweet spot again and again and again.
“So beautiful,” I said, I think to myself, and reached down, smearing my hand through the cooling precome on his belly, through the soft curls above his enormous sex. His stuff was slick and copious between my fingers, like it always was, and when I gripped him tightly and worked his shaft in a blur of motion, it took seconds before he was jetting onto his stomach and my hand with a shout of my name, coating us.
I thrust as I pulled at him, feeling his body spasm deliciously, the rubber slick with sweat now, my balls thick and tight, and so fucking ready to fill him. Only when he begged me by my name did I erupt inside of him, making me scream his name now, god it felt so good…
I thought I’d never stop.
We came to a little while later, sweat gelling as it cooled on our overheated skin, our bodies sticking together with various fluids, and with a flick of the finger on the catch, his hands were released.
Immediately, they searched me out and pulled me closer, ignoring the blindfold in favor of giving me a kiss that had me believing in god all over again, even as I softened and slipped free of him. “I love it when you go shopping for us,” he whispered, not out of desire for quiet but because his voice was ruined for a time.
I did my job well, and I smiled the smug smile of the intensely sated and well loved. “We haven’t used what I bought on you yet.”
He whipped the handkerchief off, staring at me with wide, hungry eyes.
I love it when Ryan lets me go shopping for us.