Mink Mittens

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An entry for the 750 Word Project 2023.


He knelt before me, hands clutching my bottom, face buried between my legs. My hands pulled him in harder, his honeyed tongue driving my arousal higher and higher.

Almost there, I pushed away, stepped back. Shaking, my hand fumbled on the table behind me, tossed. His hands came up, caught the things in midair.

“Buckle up, lover,” I grinned.

I loved his smile at times like this!

Rising, his long fingers fastened the broad, brown leather cuffs around his wrists as I pulled the duvet off the bed, put it to one side, pointed at the bed. Straps and hooks were already in place. Moments later, I had his arms stretched above and to his sides. I left his legs free.

I climbed onto the bed, swung a leg up and knelt over his thighs. His organ was already happily erect. His eyes closed as I grasped his shaft, kissed its head lightly, ran my tongue around it.

He hissed as I gently ran my fingers up its length, off his hardness and onto his abdomen. Bending forward, I slowly swept my hands over his İstanbul Escort chest, lingered at his nipples, pinched them gently before leaning into his smile for a long, loving, languorous kiss. His breath — red wine, cheese and my own ladyjuice — set me ablaze, a knot in my loins, nipples hard in anticipation.

I pulled away, knelt between his legs and began teasing his manhood with my breasts, circling his taut rim with my nipples.

I tapped his legs.

“Up,” I commanded.

Obediently, he lifted them, exposing his pucker. I brushed a blob of warming lube on my finger, ran it over his rosebud, laughed as it clenched. Another blob went onto the bulb of a new butt plug.

His hiss was different now as I swirled its tip, pushing deep into his anus, deeper still.

“Down.” His legs lowered, uncertainly, half-spooked by the stretching, ominous weight now within him.

I raised my hands, now with another new item, massage mitts made of real mink fur. I turned, knelt over his head, facing his feet. I gave a small gasp as his knowing lips and Kadıköy Escort expert tongue again swept over, dove into my hungry, welcoming depths. I felt my labia swell in delighted response, bent to reach his swollen, waiting wood.

The fine, soft fur drifted over his abs like warm morning mist, one mitten under his length and the other on top, flowing over his engorged crown, down his veined shaft, cupping his weighty balls in warm softness.

His thighs quivered as fur-clad hands swept up and down, circled, teased, polishing the velvet skin covering his bronze-hard pole.

Behind me, his tongue darted into my cleft, liquid lingering lips fanning my fires higher, then higher still as they found my pearl, sucking and nibbling.

I leaned down, mink-covered hands drifting over straining thighs, then catching his root, began rapidly stroking, softly, fractions of an inch. Above me, I heard his breath catch, felt his torso rising and falling, one heartbeat from release.

I wheeled off, surprised him with a ball gag, buckling it tight. Again I knelt between Ataşehir Escort his legs, pressing as I moved the control button for the butt plug. His cock wobbled, twitched as the vibrator surged against his prostate. I could hear it, feel it through the fur flowing over the silky skin of his manhood, faster now, his full length, up, down, again and again. His breath caught…

I shook off the mittens, seized his pulsing cock as jets of joy began erupting. I smiled as his torso settled back into release; there was to be no release for him.

Not now.

Not yet.


His muffled bellows behind the gag became almost shrill, rising louder, more desperate as my fingers gripped his cockhead, squeezing, twisting, dragging it over my palm. His body bounced against the bed, desperate now and I was over him, impaling myself on his tormented length, bouncing, rolling my hips, squeezing within. His eyes rolled up, his body quaked, overloaded nerves begging for mercy denied.

I felt my own joy explode, sear through me, exultant fire in my breasts and lips and pussy. I collapsed onto his panting chest.

Later, a lifetime later, I lay in his freed arms, felt his loving hand clasp my hip in the darkness.

“I love you,” he whispered, “but you know what?”


“It’s my turn tomorrow.”


“Be ready.”

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32