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Chloe and I had been together for about two years, doing “Our Thing” for most of that time. Our Thing had become the mainstay of Chloe’s sexual appetite virtually over night. We rarely practiced any other kind of sex. From that first time I fucked her throat, she was obsessed and didn’t even bother to pretend that any thing else turned her on. She was enthusiastic about her new passion and often dreamed up new ways of engaging in it. I don’t know, to me, it couldn’t get more thrilling than my cock slamming into her throat as she lay on her back with her head hanging over the edge of the kitchen table, the fender of the car, or even park benches, for crissakes. It was kind of shocking to see her so completely consumed, her face contorted by lust, her neck visibly swelling every time I pumped her.
But to her, it just wasn’t quite enough, I guess. She was an intelligent, creative girl-a very successful artist as a matter of fact-and she kept coming up with new ideas.
“So it doesn’t get repetitive,” she’d say.
One evening I came home kind of early and found her sitting on the couch in the basement. She didn’t hear me as I stood on the stairs and watched her, drinking in, as I often did, how so very pretty she was.
She’s about five foot three, with short, brown hair and large, liquid, melt-your-fucking-heart eyes, dark and bright and absolutely alive. She had a boyish, pixie-ish way about her that was charming and endearing far beyond anything else I’d ever experienced, and I was flat-out, full-tilt, head over fucking heels in love.
Anyway, I stood there watching her…she would get on the treadmill and go as fast as she could for about three minutes, then quickly sit on the couch and look at her watch. After a few minutes she jumped up and did it again. I was very curious, and I stayed put trying to figure out what she was up to. Finally, not wanting to interrupt her, I went upstairs to shower and change clothes.
Forty-five minutes later, I heard her climb the stairs. She came into the kitchen huffing and puffing like she’d been out running.
“What’re you up to, darlin’?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she replied, “just working out.”
“It looked like you were kind of on-again off-again when I saw you.”
“Just doin’ my work out, babe.”
She did her “work outs” for weeks and wouldn’t tell me anything about it. Always the same-a few minutes going like hell on the treadmill and a few minutes sitting on the couch.
One Saturday afternoon she came up from the basement and I said,
“You got a package in the mail, today, Chlo. It’s poker oyna on the table in the living room.”
“Oh! It’s here!” she cried, “Where is it!?”
She ran into the living room happy as an eight-year-old on Christmas morning. I could hear her tearing open the package, then running up the stairs.
“What is it?” I yelled after her.
“It’s nothing, love, I’ll show you later.” She trailed off.
She’s a quirky girl, what can I say? I love that about her, and truth be told, it was the root of our relationship.
I waited. I knew that sooner or later she would tell me what was going on. I piddled around in the yard for an hour or so, and when I came back in, I stretched out on the couch.
I was beginning to doze off when I heard her at the top of the stairs.
“Babe. Hey babe. You down there, babe?” She asked.
“Yeah I’m here,” I shook off the sleep and sat up yawning.
“I’m coming downstairs. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” I asked, though knowing her as I did, I had a pretty good idea. God, I loved her.
She slowly came down the stairs, lilting as she moved. She had a hooded bathrobe on, and as it was kind of open in the front, I could see that she was wearing a deep red and orange sari wrapped around her waist. Her pretty little breasts swayed back and forth with every step she took. I couldn’t see her face, but I could hear her breathing all the way from the couch. She circled around and came up behind me, gently reaching out to massage my shoulders, back and neck.
“Do you love me?” she asked in her soft, tiny voice. Her hands stroked my neck and rubbed across my lips.
“You know I love you, Chloe. Do you have to ask?” My antennas were up.
“I need to know,” she said, “What will you do for me? Will you do anything for me?”
Something was definitely up, I thought, and I’m probably gonna like it. “I’ll do anything for you, love, anything.”
She leaned down, pressing the hood of her bathrobe against my face. She turned toward me, her face still hidden. I could feel something hard inside the robe and I started to turn toward her, but she stopped me. She started smacking her lips and making the gentle swallowing noises that signaled her desire. I got hard instantly, my cock swelling like a balloon on a faucet.
“Close your eyes,” she hissed; her breathing was heavy and irregular.
I closed them. I could hear her come around to the front of the couch, and I could hear her shed her bathrobe. I could also tell she was handling something-I could hear little jingling noises.
“I’m on my canlı poker oyna knees, love– don’t open your eyes!” She was breathless, passion oozing from her lips. “You know my workouts?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Pause. “What about them?” I was squirming in my seat now, my cock rapidly reaching its capacity.
“I practice holding my breath. I’ve worked on my lungs so much, I can hold my breath for four and half minutes.” She was so overcome she could hardly talk.
“Why, Chloe?” I asked, mystified.
“Here’s why! Open your eyes!”
She was on her knees in the middle of the living room, her hands behind her back and her head high as she returned my look of amazement. She was wearing leather straps on her head! Thin belts crisscrossed her forehead and face, and she had a wide collar around her throat. It was a harness! And it had four little straps hanging from it, two beneath her chin, and one by each ear.
“Chloe! What the hell is this?” I was perplexed; I had no idea what was up.
“Here babe! Put this on! Please!” She tossed me a belt.
I picked it up and looked at it-it was like a jock strap with no front. Then I saw the little silver rings attached to it.
“Oh, Chloe! My god!” I was dumbfounded! “Do you really want to do this?”
She made a tight little circle with her lips in response, and nodded.
I put the thing on-it was like putting on shorts with no material, just seams. I felt kind of silly until I looked at my Chloe, squirming on her knees, her eyes filled with lust and begging me to help her. I stepped up to her, my raging hard on right in front of her. I reached down and cupped her under her chin, lifting her face up to meet mine. She was panting. I put my thumb to her lips and pushed it in. Her eyes half closed and she began a long, low moan. I moved in more, and still holding her face up, I touched my cock to her half open lips. I entered her pretty little mouth with a push. She was warm and wet, and I fucked my cock in and out a few times, not going very deep, just keeping the head of it in her lips. I plunged about half way in and she started dribbling, spit seeping out from around my cock and dripping off her chin.
I was quickly reaching my peak. Seeing her kneeling there, her head bound up tight in leather straps, and my cock fucking into her face-I was ready. I hooked my fingers into the harness and gripped it hard. I pulled her all the way down on my cock and she came, slobbering and swallowing and moaning. I eased out of her throat to give her a little time to recover, knowing that despite her orgasm, her passion was internet casino still building. She let my cock plop out of her mouth. Panting, she looked up at me, so young and fresh and healthy, and so very, very pretty. We gazed into each other’s eyes, seeing ourselves. We rarely had this perspective while we fucked-she was usually upside down and on her back as I fucked her throat, and I could only imagine what she looked like. I liked what I saw, and I told her.
“God Chloe, you look beautiful with my cock in your mouth! God, I love you!
“I feel beautiful,” She said, her chest heaving. “I’m ready,” she rasped, “Let’s do it!”
I put my cock back to her lips, and holding her by the harness, I plunged down hard, splashing into her throat. I pumped as she swallowed, my cock pulsing, my pelvis thrusting on it’s own, hunching her face.
I was quickly getting ready to shoot. Chloe sensed it and fumbled with the straps hanging from her harness. One by one she fastened them to my belt, pulling them roughly through the rings. I could hardly believe it-her face was cinched up tight to my crotch, her nose flattened against my hairy belly, her lips rooting at the base of my cock! There was no way for her to pull back-she was locked into place, my cock buried in her throat! I began to buck back and forth; trying to fuck her and trying keep my balance, too. Her weight was throwing me off and pulling me down. I grabbed hold of the harness and pumped short little strokes for all I was worth. As we began to come, she fell backwards from the force of my thrusting, and I fell on top of her, loving her, fucking her and coming in her throat. She bore my whole weight as I lay on her head, her throat going into spasms as she swallowed. I lay still, letting her milk me, draining the last few drops of splooge from my embedded cock.
Suddenly I remembered she was locked into place. I struggled to my knees, bringing her with me. I could see the veins popping out of her neck and I hurriedly worried at the straps until they came loose. She sat up, hyperventilating, trying to catch her breath. She looked over, too spent to acknowledge me, letting the flush of her own orgasm wash over her like a warm river.
She lay in my arms for what seemed hours, unwilling to disturb the glow of her newly found method of pleasure. After I pulled the harness over her head, I caressed her, twilling her hair with my fingers, cooing to her, and letting her feel my strength. I tried to tell her with my body that I would protect her always from the phony conventions and petty morality of the outside; that together we were one part of a puzzle much bigger than anyone knows, and I wanted to tell her that what we do is ok, and to not worry.
She lifted up on her elbow, and licked me. “It keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it, babe?”
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