It's Took Late To Turn Back. I Will Be Pegging You When We Get Back To The Hotel. I'll Do It In Front

men were made to be obedient little toys. they just look so pretty with tear and sweat stained faces, just begging to be a good boy.

how does it feel to know youre pathetic enough to do anything just to hear me say youre being a good boy?

#choice #blame #humiliation #friends

Absolutely adore when a man goes all breathless and weak as you’re kissing him—when he’s pliant and trembling but oh so sweet

Have you had sex with a woman in front of a locked boy? Or made a locked girl tease a locked boy?

Who hasn’t?

But seriously…who? I want to tell them what they’re missing.

Yeah, enjoying my sexuality and the sexuality of others before the hungry eyes of locked boys is sort of a guilty pleasure hobby of mine. It might even be a calling card.

It’s one thing to lock you up and make love to your girlfriend right there in front of you. That’s always fun, especially when you start hearing her make whimpers and squeaks and moans you’ve never heard her make before.

But imagine for a moment, going downtown to a cozy little club instead. You’re dressed to the nines in that shirt that makes your eyes catch the light. Your girl is wearing the little black dress with the golden hem you bought her for your anniversary. I’m wearing that perfume that forces you to inhale whenever you catch the scent. Imagine pushing past the crowd to the bar where we leave you. You watch from across the room as I take your girlfriend by the hand out to the dance floor. You’ve never seen her laugh and smile so much in her life as we dance and joke. She spins away when the horn section flares and melts into me when the bass walks. When we finally come back to the bar, out of breath and needing refreshment, you can’t ignore how her eyes keep finding mine, how my calf tends to brush against hers, how she blushes when I put my hand on her knee. You wish she did that for you, but your cock is content where it is, locked in a cool, smooth, steel cage.

On the ride back to the hotel I sit between you. She leans her head on my shoulder and I play with her hair. I slide my hand down and make lazy circles on the smooth skin of her inner thighs with my fingertips. She coos softly and it seems like her skirt keeps moving higher and higher. My free hand rests on your thigh, high and very close to that inescapable cage. You can’t help wonder what new things I will teach her about her body when we finally arrive at our room. You cross your fingers that you will be allowed to see it all and not be gagged, blindfolded and tied to a chair in the bathroom like last time. Please, not that again.

How ironic and cruel. ❤️🙂