Standing in the rain shower, a small wave of anxiety washed over me. My center shot open as I finally realized what it was I was showering for in the first home. This encounter, rendezvous, get-together, escort, whatever you want to call it, was only a one-half hour away. I slowly washed my breast and stomach with my loofa, trying to convince myself that the longer it took for me to get ready, the more than clock time would retard down, and the more time I had until he arrived on my doorstep.

Usually, men don't make me queasy. As a 26-year-old, I felt I knew what to bear from them, and I had a self esteem that tended to air on the side of arrogance when it came to dates that always kept me in ascendence. I knew that I had a ability over men, and I knew I could make them require me considerably more than I could ever need them without hardly any movement. I knew I could dominate them. But this man was the exception the normal. In my own way, I had worked at this. It felt like a illusion of mine was finally coming true up, and my emotions could hardly make water sentiency of it. He had been something in my life I wasn't sure I would ever be able to ingest, and it made me require him all the more. Now that it looked as if I had finally sunk my teeth into him, I was certain I did not desire to mess it up.

I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off and looked at the getup that was folded up on my lav seat : blue and Andrew Dickson White pinstripe cotton fiber frill-top pants that stopped just before the ankle and a white spaghetti strap top that I would fall apart without a bra, as to make my mamilla piercing easily visible. Even if I was oddly skittish to see him, at least I knew I would seem amazing.

walking toward my bedroom, the juxtaposition of its iciness and the damp hotness of the privy sent a pall down my spine. Examining the blank space, I determined that it looked acceptable enough to invite individual into for the night. My bed was uncharacteristically made, storey freshly vacuumed, and my desk was cleared of the quite a little of useless report, tampons, books, and half empty glasses of water that it typically hosted. I tossed my towel in my shackle near my desk and closed the threshold to get a in force expression at myself in the mirror. The sight of my own reflection sent another chill down my spikelet, but it wasn't one of anxiety or nervousness, thankfully. It was of assurance. I couldn't commend ever having liked the way I looked so a great deal before. My skin was truly radiant from head to toe. The box braids on my drumhead cascaded down and framed my expression perfectly, but didn't take away from my favorite facial feature : my high os zygomaticum. Turning my pass to the left, I peered at the strap on harness I had purchased specifically for the guest I had coming over. I looked back at myself in the mirror and watched as a oblique smirk gap across my face.There couldn't have been a better night to catch some Z's with my former college professor.

Just as I'd dressed, turned on some mood music, and finished pouring one of the two chicken feed of Pinot grape noir there was a knock on my door. He'd arrived. I took my time going over to let him in, as I wanted to make indisputable I left every suggestion of nerves behind me. I'd waited so long for the chance to do this On my way to greet him, I took an oversized sip of the vino I had in handwriting a deep breathing space, and slowly opened the door.

He had been my professor in my next-to-last year British Literature course. I was a philology John R. Major, and I wanted to take as many course of study related to Good Book and linguistic communication as I could, even if it meant choosing them as electives. When the sentence came to register, I was sealed I wanted to use up the course with the Saami woman who had taught my Semantics and Phonetics class the year prior, Professor John Wesley. She was a remarkable woman whose influence over me was both professional and motherly, and I told her many clip that if I ever finished the book I'd been working on, I wanted her to indite its foreword. My respect for her was one and only, and I wanted to absorb every bit of information from her as I could. Thus, I was nearly in a fad when I learned I would be taking the class not with her but with a Professor Stanley, some guy who'd transferred from a college upstate. I tried with all my might to deepen my family docket and work docket to induce it possible for me to be taught by my one and only true role model, but to no avail. My whole summertime leading up to that fall semester was spent in defeat, wondering why my perfective tense program had crumbled before me, that is, until I finally met my new instructor.

-- -- -

He stood in front end of me, smiling that aphrodisiac smile of his, and I felt a massive rush of epinephrine. I wanted him right then, I could palpate my body responding to his simple front, but I kept my aplomb. I needed him to want me more. Professor Stanley, or St. Matthew the Apostle, as I took to calling him, was gorgeous. He nearly towered over me, standing at a full 6'1"while I was 5'4 ”. He was brawny, had a full promontory of salt and pelt hair and wore thick rimmed crank. Honestly, he could've been a GQ model if he was 20 years younger.

"trade good evening, gorgeous ”, he said in a low vox, still wearing that smile. His green eye twinkled.

"Hey, Mister ”, I replied, trying not to think too hard about how hot I'd become in the last ten seconds. Hesitantly, he leaned in for a hug, his left helping hand resting firmly but gently on my bare skin. The aroma on Levi's black button up was intoxicating, and his substantial, warm up chest pushed up against my face sent my head reeling. He was a stereotypically manlike man, and it made me want to take him for my own even more. The embracing eventually came to an end, and I moved to the position to let him in.

"Hey, so I hope you don't mind, but I brought a fiddling snack for us. I've been obsessed with this Vietnamese spot a twosome Swedish mile away from the university, so I thought I'd contribute some bounce bankroll. I also picked up some sake. You okay with that ?"

I smiled, nodded. and decided to make a motion. I wasn't sure if he would, plus, I was unbelievably horny. I walked over to him and kissed him deeply. Pulling away, I looked into his centre, and in an split second, his sass were on mine again. I felt his big manus on my coxa. We were doing this now.

panting and pushing our dead body into one another, we stumbled into my bedroom and slammed the doorway shut. Matthew grabbed my face like he owned me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My soundbox was riddled with ecstasy and I noticed I was trembling as his hands slid down my side, back, and hips, picking me up by the back of my second joint, giving my ass a house squeeze and smacking on the way down. I whimpered as he began sucking on my breasts and cervix, and I chuckled to myself, thinking about what I would end up saying to forfend explaining to friends and coworkers that my former college professor had given me a love bite.

"God, every bit of you preference so fucking good ”, Matthew sighed. His face looked completely different than it did when he first walked into my apartment hallway XV minute of arc ago. He looked completely different now, his shabu removed, modest beads of sweat on his brow and chest, the dilatation of his school-age child. He looked completely carnal, like just being in the same elbow room with me was all it really took to get him off. I realized that, in this moment, he felt like he needed me. This Revelation sent Adrenalin charging through every single inch of my eubstance. I was wide of major power, strength and ascendency.

"Put me down,"I whispered.

"What ?"Saint Matthew's facial expression dropped, his features reading confused.

"Put me down, now."This prison term, my voice mimicked the power I felt inside. His hand reluctantly loosened its adhesive friction on my second joint, and after a present moment my toes met the carpet. The atmosphere suddenly shifted. St. Matthew the Apostle's facial expression was now confused, anxious and scared. It turned me on. I let the silence soma for a few more seconds ; I quite liked the uncomfortable look on Matthew's pretty little face. When I was ready, I turned him around, pushing his typeface against the door with my bridge player and forced myself up against his back.

"Okay, you had it your way. You had your fun, Matthew Stanley."Quickly, I reached into his legal brief and tightly grabbed his cock, making him gasp. His erection began to fade when I took bang, but after a match seconds, His boner was back. I stroked it slowly before whispering,"But now it's my act. This is my house, and you'll do what I say."He moaned deeply, passionately, and I could feel him trembling. Stepping back once, I moved my hired man from the incline of his face to his chin, forcing his head back. I kissed his backrest and shoulders tenderly, softly tracing his sticker with my digit, and punctuated it quickly with a slap of his ass. It felt softer and enceinte than I had anticipated.

"This ass is mine, you got that ?"

"Mmm, yes ma'am. It's all yours ”, Matthew sighed. I was surprised to learn his voice had soften as much as it had, and I looked down to see pre-cum escaping his erection. He knew what I was quick to do to him, and he wanted it. I fucking loved it. Squeezing his ass again, I walked over to the bed and told him to follow me. We were closing to the lightness, and I could see his look better than I could previously. He had completely submitted to me, and all it took was a couple prison term. The longer this went on, and the more he readily responded to my authority, the to a greater extent mindful I was of the wet in my pantie.

"yield those off,"I demanded, pointing to the only article of clothing he still had on : his pre-cum stained aristocratic boxer briefs. Grabbing the waistband and avoiding eye striking with me, he began to slue his underwear off his hips, until I stopped him.

"No. Turn your back to me. I want see your fiddling ass when you bent over. It's mine, isn't it ?"

"Yes… yes ma'am, it is,"he replied. He turned around removed his underclothing, and again, I was shocked at how big his ass was once there was zero left to cover up it up. His ass wasn't hairy, and neither was his yap. I could see he'd also bleached it. He was ready. After a mo, he turned around and looked at me. His cock looked even harder. I smirked.

"Now, be a just boy and come lie on the bed with me."

St. Matthew the Apostle was excited, despite his demeanor. He crawled onto the bed and did to a greater extent than I was expecting : he got down on all fours and arched his back, spreading his wooden leg out to expose his tight arse. Oh, have it off, I thought. This is so hot. I'd never been with a man like him before. So many men are afraid of their backdoor, and so despite my desire to play with a man's ass, I'd never met one who wanted to not only return it a try, but who was positively obsessed with it. Saint Matthew the Apostle wanted me to do anything I wanted to that ass of his, and I knew it. It'd been awhile since he'd slept with a cleaning lady who wanted to do this with him, and his craving for a shoulder strap on in his asshole was so hot that I wanted to pee-pee him recount me exactly how he wanted this to go.

"Little Matty,"I began to ask as I moved around on the bed and began to push my wet pussy against his ass. It felt so good and mild."I know you want me to get it on your niggling hole. I can tell how badly you want to jounce up and down on that didlo I bought just for you. But before you do, I need you to tell me in great detail exactly what you want."Again, I leaned forward and pulled his head back toward me by his hair.

"Yes ma'am, I will."He paused, cleared his pharynx, and spoke.

"I want you eat my ass. I've gotten off on the thought of your natural language around my golf hole while I use my coxa to grind your face.I want you to spread my ass cheeks out so I can rub it against your lingua and lips. I love it when you squeeze and grab and slap my ass, it makes me finger owned. Like my body isn't mine, but yours. I would lie with for you to lick my contamination and period of play with my dick with one helping hand. I want to you be intimate my ass so deep and strong, grabbing my hips and making my ass spring against your sexy body. I do, I do want to bounce on your dildo. I want it so badly. I want you to do whatever you want to my ass. It's yours."

God, that was so roll in the hay hot. I had to use everything in me to protest my temptation to moan right then. I didn't wan na let him in on how very much he'd turned me on quite yet. He could not consume had a more gross ass either : smooth skin, a little muscular but still soft enough that it jiggled when I slapped it, perfectly round. I just wanted to feel it against my clit for a spell. I slid my hands slowly down his arched back and slapped his brass with both paw, then grabbed a handful of each, causing Matthew to jump, then moan. He arched his back even more, showing me his tight golf hole once again. I could not hold off to give that pressed up against my clapper. But I wanted to bring in him wait.

My manus migrated from his soft ass to his hips, pulling him in finisher. Pointing my groyne a little more upwards, I began moving my hip against his ass in a rotary motion. I loved watching as his ass squished against my consistency. Steadily, I built a trivial focal ratio, and his coxa started twisting as well, rubbing his rightfulness brass right up against my clit. It felt so good I couldn't avail but let out a moan, and he followed suit. My nipples were now hard and I noticed I was biting my lip. He was had me so fucking wet. Levi's agitation was building too, as he pushed his ass into me firmly and harder. Suddenly, he stopped the sexy swirling of his hips and took to bouncing his ass back on my clit. I remained still, watching as his ass moved forward and backward, jiggling every sentence, making a slapping sound as his skin made tangency with mine.

I had to sustain him, and I had to have him now. I slid back on the bed to lie on my tum, reaching out to grab his coxa and rip his ass down to satisfy me side. Pushing his ass nerve apart, I buried my face into him, the musty scent sending a shockwave from my nipples to my swollen clit. I made handbill motions with my natural language on his blind drunk piffling asshole and felt his consistence tense from the intensity of the champion. Matthew released the farsighted, most dire groan I'd heard in all my old age, and it sent me reeling. After lubricating his hole with my spit, I slapped his ass and went to townspeople. I couldn't fucking believe this was, how sexy it was to have my face between this man's buttock, and how much he fucking loved it. I bit his allow impertinence, then his right, then I tongue fucked him, with him moaning and sighing and panting all the while.

"Oh fuck yeah, eat that ass,"he said in a breathy voice, his head turned back to me and his rectify helping hand holding my mind right where he liked it. Now he was bouncing his ass up and down, rubbing his wet hole on my eager tongue. I felt I could do this for hours. We continued for a while, me slapping and grabbing his ass, spitting on his pickle, flicking my tongue this way and that way, sliding my lingua down periodically to lick his taint and suck on his balls ; him humping my look, moaning and swearing with pleasure, tugging on his cock. After a mo, I sucked on my finger and slue it into his fix, and was surprised to feel him push himself into my hand. The moaning got louder as I moved now to using two fingers and he twisted and gyrated his pelvic arch. I soon noticed I was moaning too, and I was so wet I could feel my own moisture running down my thighs.

"God, I want to fuck you so bad,"I said, my fingerbreadth still inside his asshole."I want that ass so bad."

"Yes, please roll in the hay me. piece of ass my like you mean it,"he replied.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the shoulder strap on and, fumbling all the patch, I slipped it around my hips, adjusting it just so. The lube came next ; once we started, I didn't want there to be any reason for us to stop. St. Matthew looked at me longingly. I could see the prevision in his optic. He was so ready for me. Positioning myself just so behind him, I slowly pushed the strap on into him, being careful not to go too fast. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, so I sped up a touch modality. My hands were positioned on his hip, and the longer we went the more he arched his spine, his ass bouncing against me again. I kept slapping it until it was red.

"You like that ?"I asked him while trying to catch my breath.

"piece of ass yes, fuck me harder sister. Ooh, yeah, fuck my ass."His moan were growing louder, and much more effeminate. He was so fucking hot. I couldn't wait to make him cum. I fucked him intemperately, really hard. He tugged on his cock, and I noticed a little pocket billiards of precum underneath him. Leaning forward and making his back arch even more, I pulled his hair, causing his head to fall backwards. I could hear his groan better this way.

"Oh God, I'm gon na cum. FUCK yeah, I'm gon na cum !"Matthew gasped, panted, and pushed his bouncing ass into me even harder. A whimper was released, and I knew that he had cum all over my comforter. I pulled the strap on out of him, and leaned back to catch my breathing space. We both giggled.



Later that night, after we had eaten the Annamite food for thought, smoked weed and drank the rice beer, he fucked me and went dwelling. I showered and opened my windows to rid it of the smell of sex when I heard my telephone set bell. He'd texted me. I opened the message to a picture of him, bent over with a finger in his picayune gob. I had no musical theme how he'd gotten that picture.

"No one has ever made me cum that hard before. Let's do it again following week ?"read his message.

"snake pit yes ; )"I replied, and went to sleep .