masochism

No Turning Back

It was the summer of 2014 and I was on a journey to sexual freedom and enlightenment. I’d always been adventurous, but my tastes were evolving. I traveled this winding and treacherous road at full speed. The experience was exhilarating and terrifying. I could have taken a turn onto a safer road, or I could have slowed my speed.  Instead, I went faster. There was a deep, insatiable need to go further into the abyss.

And the sadist was happy to take me there. Into the darkness.

We spoke everyday after our first encounter. Sometimes we would talk for hours. Other days we would have brief chats. We were becoming close. I began to understand more about him and he learned more and more about me. He was in my head. I longed to see him again.  We made plans a couple of times, but life got in the way.

One Sunday morning I received a text, “Come to me. Today.”

I was surprised. I replied, “Where?”

“I will send you the info as soon as I check into the hotel.  I will see you around 4:00.  It will be close to where you are.  Make arrangements to stay over, if possible.”

That was a challenge.  With three kids, almost impossible.

I sent a response, “I will do my best to stay as long as I can. I am excited to see you…and a little scared.”

His response, “Don’t be scared. Same rules apply as last time with safewords. Text me when you have made arrangements.”

I called my babysitter and came up with a reason to be gone for several hours.  I knew an overnight was out of the question.  She agreed to come over at 3:00. I texted to let him know. I finished up everything I needed to do for the week (my typical Sunday routine) and readied myself for another session with the sadist.

At 3:30 I received a text, “Room 432, Marriott.  Be here by 4:15”

I felt nervous and yet relaxed as I drove to meet him.  I didn’t know what to expect from our second session, but I didn’t feel any real trepidation about meeting him again. I pulled into the parking garage and made my way up to his room.  I was wearing a black and white, body-hugging dress and strappy wedge sandals.  My skin was tan from a recent visit to the beach and I’d just had my hair highlighted. I’d straightened it, to change things up. I approached the room and as I knocked, he opened the door and snatched me into the room.

He stood behind me, pressing my face into the wall. His voice was strong and assertive, “I said, 4:15, slut.  It’s 4:17.  Turn around and face me.”

I peeled my face from the wall and faced him.  He looked agitated. I felt a sense of panic.  My voice was wobbly as I began to apologize, “I am sor..”

And before I could say the last syllable, I felt the sting of his open hand on my cheek.  I was shocked. I’d never been slapped in the face. And before I could mutter another word, he slapped my face again. Tears began streaming down my face as I tried to regain my composure.  My mind raced and I wanted to say my safeword, but I felt paralyzed by fear.

“Your tears are what I want. It’s so fucking sexy. Cry for me. Cry more for me.”

I was shaking in my skin, as I didn’t know what would come next.  I finally managed to verbalize a sentence and said, “I put no hitting in the face on my questionnaire. Why did you hit me like that?”

And holding my tear-stained face he looked into my eyes and grinned at me.  “You are so beautiful when you let yourself go. When you allow yourself to be vulnerable.”

I didn’t care what he thought because he violated my limits. “But I said not to hit me in the face. Please don’t do that again.”

He just smiled at me as he led me to the bed.  I questioned whether or not to go any further. I was so shaken by what had just happened that I did feel the trust I’d felt during our first meeting.  He could sense that I was on the brink of leaving.

“I know I should not have done that, and I sincerely apologize, Tess.  Your tears arouse me and I became too excited when I saw you.  I didn’t want to wait for you to give them to me. I wanted them now. Please forgive me.”

It seemed like a sincere apology so I reluctantly decided to stay.  He slowly undressed me, taking his time as he purposefully peeled off every piece of my clothing. He pulled my hair back as he removed my earrings and necklace. “I have some other ‘jewelry’ to put on you, Beautiful”  I stood naked in front of him and as he placed silver nipple clamps on my nipples. There was an adorned chain that connected them, and he gave it a tug to make sure it was secure.  He had me lie down on the bed placing the cuffs on my wrists, looping red silk rope through to tie my wrists to my ankles. “Open your legs wide and bend your knees up, so I can secure your ankle to your wrist.” The silk rope was soft on my skin and I was bound, open and exposed.  He tugged on the chain as he massaged my clit with the violet wand and again, I was not allowed to orgasm.  I held on for as long as I could and then begged for release.  He finally allowed me to cum.

He blindfolded me and I heard him rummaging through his bag for something.  Not being able to see what was coming added to the excitement.  Soon, I felt the sting of the flogger across my stomach as struck me and then tugged on the clamps. I was helpless and under his control when I heard a faint knock at the door. I panicked, “Who is that at the door? Cover me up please.”

I heard him snicker as he said, “There’s no need to cover you.  The fun is just getting started.”

I heard the door open and could tell someone had walked into the room.  Still blindfolded, I could not make out who it was.  Was it a man? A woman? Why were they here? I was naked, bound, blindfolded and helpless.  I didn’t hear any voices, but I heard what sounded like a wrapper being opened.

“Hurry up and get the condom on.  Fuck the hell out of her.  She wants it rough. She will love your big cock”

I felt every part of my being, freeze.  I was paralyzed with terror. What was happening?  I struggled to find my voice…to scream my safeword…and I couldn’t say anything.  I just lay there, motionless as I felt him push himself inside me.  I then felt someone sit on the bed beside me as I was being taken. I recognized the cologne, it was the sadist. “On the questionnaire, you expressed a real interest in being fucked by a stranger, didn’t you?” his voice was deep and breathy.  “Answer me, now.”

My mind raced as I began doing a mental review of all of my answers.  And it was true. I did have a stranger fantasy.  I managed to find my words, “Yes. I did.”

He moved in closer, hissing in my ear. “Indeed, you did. How does it feel to be fucked by a stranger, Tess? Is it what you wanted? Do you feel scared? Does it feel perverse? How does his cock feel? Talk to me.”

And with that, the terror of the situation began to dissolve.  It was true…I wanted to be taken by a stranger.  I wanted to feel fear.  “Please remove the blindfold and I will tell you everything.”

He pulled the blindfold away and I laid eyes on the man fucking me.  He was younger than I, in his late 20’s.  By his haircut and physique, he seemed military.  We stared into each others eyes as he sank into my wetness.  The sadist was growing impatient, “Talk. I want to know what you are thinking.”

My voice was sultry as I moaned with pleasure. “He feels good.  His cock fills me and I love that I don’t even know his name.  I am tied and helpless and he keeps fucking me as you watch us.”

He seemed pleased with my answer as he quipped at the young stranger, “Fuck her harder. I want to hear her scream.”

The stranger quickened his pace as he pushed further into me. I gasped as he pulled my hips into his, going even deeper. I was close to the edge and I felt the sadist’s hand on my throat.  His grip was strong and I felt myself fading…almost losing consciousness as he released his hold on me and pulled on the nipple clamps.  I moaned from the pain and he pulled again, and again.  The stranger was aroused by my sounds and in a matter of minutes we both exploded.

“You fucked her well.  Now get dressed and leave.” the sadist’s tone was direct.  The young man quickly dressed and walked out.  The sadist turned to me, “How are you, Tess?”

“I’m okay. I have finally calmed down a little, but that was beyond terrifying. Who was he?” I asked.

The sadist smiled and said, “He is someone who owes me a favor.  He is one of my students, in the physician’s assistant program. I knew you’d enjoy him.”

That was a relief. He wasn’t a total stranger and everything was safe. I said, “I did enjoy him, but my legs and wrists are beginning to hurt. Could you please loosen the ropes?” I knew it was a risk, asking him to untie me, but I was really sore. And if he didn’t, I was at the point of saying my safeword.

“Sure. I will loosen them.  In fact, I will take them off.  And then I am going to have my way with you, slut.” He untied me and had me roll over onto my stomach.  From under his pillow he retrieved that huge dildo he’d used on me the first time. “Remember this?” he grinned.

I tensed up as I didn’t know if I could withstand that in addition to what I’d just experienced.  “Yes. How could I forget?” I answered.

“I want to make sure you don’t forget. Open your legs.” I noticed that he had not used any lube, like he did before. I braced myself for the pain.  Instead of putting it in my ass, he pushed into my sore cunt. Pushing it all in with one stroke.  I screamed from the pain and the pleasure.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” he growled as he began to finger my ass.  “I am going to fuck your ass with my cock this time and you will take it until I tell you otherwise.  Got it? Both of your holes will be filled until you can’t take any more.  Don’t beg me to stop because I know how badly you want this.”

He was right. I wanted it all.  I wanted the pain. The torture.  The pleasure.  I wanted him to take it all from me.  The feeling was so intense that I cannot recall when or how we finished.  I think I may have passed out for a minute.  When I came to my senses again, my entire body was shaking and began to weep. It was too much to keep bottled up. I let it go again. Everything. I let it all go.

He held me in a warm embrace until I stopped shaking and came back to my center. I will never understand how an acutely intense sexual experience can purge so much from a person.  After I settled down, I felt energized and free.  I began to recognize that I released emotional pain when I experienced physical pain.  It was beautiful and powerful.

I didn’t linger there, as I needed to get home.  My mind was racing with questions, but I no longer felt confused by my feelings. Once again, I recognized who I was. Walking out of that room, I decided it was the last time I would ever see him. He served his purpose by helping me remove the mask.

And I have never looked back.

walking-away

(Photo credit, Pinterest)

 

 

The “M” Word

I awoke to the sound of a loud knock at the door. Room service. He had ordered enough food for five people and for a moment, I wondered if he planned to return.  But I knew he wouldn’t.  He was giving me space to process.

After what I’d experienced the night before, I should have been starving, almost ravenous.  But I wasn’t that hungry.  I felt sated…in a strange sort of way.  I noshed for a bit on the plates before me and then I ventured into the bathroom for a shower.

I stood there and looked in the mirror and outwardly, I didn’t really look any different. I felt different. I felt more aware. I was beginning to notice an outline of a small bruise on my neck when I noticed something on the counter by the sink. He had left me a note: “You will need to use ointment where you were punctured. After you shower, wipe down the areas with alcohol and use this Neosporin.  Do it for today and all will be well by tomorrow.”

He’d left me some alcohol wipes and packets of Neosporin.  I’d not even looked at my feet.  I sat on the side of the tub and examined them closely.  There were tiny scabs where the needles had been, but didn’t hurt when I touched them.  I got into the shower and began reflecting on the evening.  As I washed my body I was reminded of all that we did.  We were together for 8 hours.

Looking back, I reflected on some of the other things we did that I didn’t share in the other post.  He seemed to understand my need for fear, my need to feel vulnerable.  Prior to moving to the bedroom, he’d outlined my form with a large hunting knife.  He never broke the skin, but I could feel the point of the knife moving across my body…the cold steel again my warm flesh.  I know this sounds strange to many people, but I loved the feel.  It is not that I wanted to be cut, or hurt.  I liked the sensation of being that vulnerable. I liked that we were doing something taboo and dangerous.  I felt a level of arousal I’d never felt before.

I was lost in thought as shampoo began running in my eyes, snapping me back to reality.  I finished up my shower and got dressed.  Putting on my clothes, I remembered how his hands felt, how his body felt, how his breath felt in my ear, coaxing me, taunting me, reassuring me.  I put my hand on my neck and I was reminded of the moments he held me by the throat and how I loved that feeling. Had I always been this way?  Had this need for darkness been lying dormant in the recesses of my obsidian soul?

On the drive home I received a text from him, “Don’t forget. Text me when you get home. Be safe.” I didn’t know what to respond, or how to respond, or if I wanted to respond.  I drove in silence. No radio. No distraction other than the flood of thoughts vying for attention in my head.  When I pulled in to the garage, I instinctively texted him. “I am home.”

His reply, “Good.  I want you to send me an email of your thoughts about what we experienced.  You have until midnight to get it to me.  Be transparent. ”

I was a bit put off by this request, but I decided to do it.  Maybe writing it out will give me more perspective.  So I wrote him a missive from my vantage point and sent it to him.  He responded with his thoughts and a question, “when can I see you again?”

I didn’t answer.  I went to bed that night, sore and pensive.  I liked how I felt, but I was conflicted…it’s not “normal” to like pain.  It’s not “normal” to play with knives and needles.  It’s not “normal” to feel this way.  So I got up and emailed him.

“I don’t know when. I don’t even know if. I am trying to figure out who I am in all of this.”

And I went to sleep. Early in the morning I heard my phone ding.  I’d received an email…from him.

“You now know exactly who you are.  For once in your life, you know yourself.”  Initially I didn’t see it, but it was a new email, not a response.

The subject line consisted of one word, “Masochist

I’d been revealed.  He saw beneath the mask.  He knew who  I was.

And so did I.

the-mask

 

No Pain…No Gain

Usually when you see the words “no pain, no gain” it is about exercise, growth and discipline. In my case, it was quite literal.(Warning…this post may not be for everyone. It is intense and graphic and long.  Proceed with caution…)

During the Spring of 2014, I went on a quest for enlightenment. There was nothing taboo on my to-do list.  I wanted to explore.  I wanted to experience.  I wanted to feel alive again. I needed to be released from captivity.  I didn’t know where to start.  There were NO prospects at work.  Lee and I were still in contact, but I wanted someone new.  I wanted new experiences.  So I created an “Alt.com” account. (For those of you who aren’t familiar, Alt.com is a “dating” site for those who are into BDSM, and/or different kinks/fetishes)

And my inbox was inundated with enlightenment. About 100 messages later, I filtered out a couple of interesting propositions.  The one that really caught my attention was the sadist. He was unapologetic and direct. He was aroused by inflicting pain on his subjects. He did clarify that he did not go to extremes, but helped people release their most dark and deviant desires. I was reluctant but intrigued.  After all, I’d done just about everything on my sexual bucket list, many times over, so I felt that I needed to expand my perspective.

After talking and messaging for over a month, we agreed to meet one weekend.  I wanted to ensure my safety, so we exchanged pertinent information.  I verified his full name, address, date of birth, occupation, and had a friend run a background check on him.  Yes, I know…a bit overboard, but his check was clean and he was who he said he was.  My friend knew exactly where we were going and I was to check in after we met, so that she would know I was okay.  He lived about an hour from me, and reserved a hotel suite for our adventures. I liked that we were meeting in a neutral location. It gave me an added sense of security.  It made me feel  like I wouldn’t end up in the bottom of a well with him screaming, “put the fucking lotion in the basket.” I also liked that he sent me an actual questionnaire, regarding my limits and curiosities.  We reviewed it together in detail so we would be on the same page.  He knew my limits and he knew my kinks. And I had no idea what to expect.

I was to arrive in the room first and get ready for the evening.  He asked that I wear a black dress and heels. So I happily obliged and took my time getting ready.  I had no idea what I was preparing for, but I was giddy with anticipation. He knew I was nervous and asked me to go to the hotel bar for a drink, before he got there. I was almost finished with the third Cosmo when I received a text, “I am here. Come now.”

I tossed back the drink, cashed out and made my way to the room.  He was waiting at the door for me, with a large imposing black bag and a sadistic grin. I walked towards him realizing that there was still time to turn and run the other way. But instead, I walked with confidence and purpose, eager to release the demons that lurked deep within my bones.

“Hello, Kevin.  I am Tess.  Nice to meet you”

He had an imposing stature, tall and muscular.  He was dressed in black slacks and a black shirt. His sandy blonde hair was slightly messy and he smelled divine. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess.  Are you ready?” he asked as I put the card in the door.

I smiled and said, “I think so.” and with that he put his arm around my waist and walked me into the room, backing me up against the wall. He said, “Are you ready is a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.  I need an answer now.  If you don’t want to go further, it’s okay. But I need to know NOW.”

He took the breath away from me. I was scared and aroused and I looked into his brown eyes and said, “The answer is yes.  Yes I am ready.”

“Good. What is the safeword we discussed?” he asked.

“Red is to stop.  Yellow to slow down.”

“Good girl.  Take off the dress.  Leave on the heels.”

I slowly unzipped my dress and let it fall to my feet.  I stared into his eyes as I removed my bra and eased my lacy black panties down my legs. I stood before him, completely naked, in heels.

He walked towards me and clutched my throat as he kissed me. “You are so beautifully sexy and vulnerable right now. I am going to fuck you till you can’t walk.  I am going to hurt you and allow to let go of yourself. On your knees, now.”

I fell to my knees and looked up at him.  He stroked my chin as he pulled his hard cock from his pants. “Suck until I tell you to stop.” he ordered.  I took him into my mouth as he pushed himself farther and farther, aggressively fucking my throat. It was a messy scene of saliva and tears with smeared lipstick and runny mascara, as he made my eyes water with every thrust.  “Your tears are sexy as hell. This is just the beginning. Stand up and put your hands on the table, spread your legs.”

He stood behind me and I could feel his hard cock on my body. He growled in my ear, “You are not allowed to cum, until I tell you.  Do you understand?”

I said, “Yes, I understand” and with that, he pushed my face down onto the table and began fucking me. He started massaging my clit while he fucked my hole and I felt myself beginning to climax.  I gritted my teeth and concentrated on not having an orgasm, but he would not stop. I was panicked because I didn’t know how to stop myself from going over the edge. I said, “I don’t know if I can stop. Please let me cum.”

He laughed and said, “No. You have to take it. If you cum, I will stop. I will leave. And we will not go any further.”

I didn’t want that to happen, as I wanted to push limits with him, so I regained composure and focused on taking his torment.  A few minutes later, he stopped and told me to grab a towel and get on the bed.  As I began walking towards the bedroom, he snapped, “Crawl to me, slut.” I still had my heels on and I clenched the towel with my teeth as I crawled to the bed.

“Very nice. Now give me your hands.” he swiftly placed leather cuffs on my wrists and tied me to the bed. I felt nervous by what was coming next when I heard the sound of him rummaging through his bag of tricks.  He pulled out several items and I felt a sense of terror as I heard him approach me. I was face down on the bed, with my hands tied and I could not see what was coming.

“Open your legs wide.” He felt the wetness of my cunt and began fingering me.  He abruptly stopped and then fingered my ass.  He stopped and I could hear him squirting lube on his fingers as he assaulted my tight hole again. He was preparing me for something and I was excited by what was coming next.

He walked towards my face and showed me what was coming next.  He was holding a large dildo in his hand.  He stroked my cheek with it and said, “I am about to fuck your ass with this huge, 11 inch dildo. You are going to take every inch of it, aren’t you?  Oh, it is going to hurt, isn’t it?”  I nodded.  “What’s your safeword, Tess?”

“Red to stop, yellow to slow down.” I said.  My heart was racing. He began to push the large instrument in my ass, slowly, twisting it to add to the torment.  He kept whispering, “Take it, Tess.  Take it all.” and ironically, I found the sound of his voice comforting.  I relaxed as he filled me. Once I’d taken the entire length of the dildo, he told me to hold it there.

He massaged my feet with one hand as he pushed the dildo into my ass in a slow rhythm. I loved the pain. I craved each thrust. I felt myself getting close to the edge, when he stopped to retrieve something from his bag.  I heard him open a package and then felt something cold on my foot, like an alcohol pad, between my toes.

“On your questionnaire, you had a strong curiosity about needle play.  I am about put needles between your toes, while I continue to violate your ass. So I will need you to be completely still.”

I shuddered at the thought and yet I felt aroused.  He showed me that each needle was sterile packed in an individual package (did I mention that he was physician’s assistant). He opened the space between my great toe and the other toe, wiped it down again and inserted a 25g needled in between my toes.  It was intoxicating.  The feeling of pressure, of penetration, of a slight prick of pain all while being ass-fucked was almost too much.  He kept at his work, and before long I had needles in both feet, a dildo in my ass and his cock in my hole.  He held my feet up as he fucked me, his body driving the dildo farther inside me.  I was so overcome with sensation that I began to come unglued.  I started to weep.  Not from the pain, but from the pleasure…from the release.

He was aroused by my tears and picked up the pace, savagely fucking me. “Tess, you are allowed to cum now.  Let go.  Let it go.” And with that I let go and had the most intense orgasm of my life. I gushed all over, the bed was soaked and so was my pillow, from where I’d been crying. He came immediately after and slowly removed the dildo from my ass and the needles from my toes.  He untied my wrists and removed the cuffs.  He turned me to face him.  I was still emotional from the experience.

Without a single word, he got a warm washcloth and wiped my tears.  He kissed my forehead as he began to clean me up. His touch was tender and affectionate.  He whispered in my ear, “You were amazing tonight.  You truly let yourself go.  How do you feel?’

My voice was shaky from the intensity of what had just happened.  Teary-eyed I looked at him and said, “I don’t know how I feel.  I feel confused, but I feel content.”

He scooped me up in his arms and held me as we drifted off to sleep. I awoke to him packing his bag.  He sat on the bed next to me. “You are probably going to feel some confusion over what you experienced tonight. I am here to talk to you whenever you need me. This is just the beginning of what we could do together.  If you want to explore more, I will be here.  If you don’t, that’s okay.  I will understand either way.  This is not for everyone.  But your response was beautiful and liberating. I do hope we can see each other again.”

And with that, he placed a bottle of water on the nightstand, tucked me into the covers like a child, kissed my forehead and left. A couple of minutes later I received a text, “room service comes at 7:30 with breakfast.  You need to eat something, Tess.  Text me when you get home.”

To be continued…

cuffs

(Photo credit, Pinterest)

On The Radio

The year was 1990.

I was on the cusp of turning 18.  For three years, I’d been in a D/s relationship with a man 16 years older than me.  He was my mentor.  My teacher.  My friend.  My lover.  And he was my boss.

That’s right.  My boss.

Since early childhood, I’d always wanted to work in broadcasting.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  I watched how newscasters spoke.  Their inflections.  Their mannerisms.  How they changed the tone and tempo of their speech to make a point.  It was almost an obsession.  And not only on television, but also…

On the radio.

We began talking when I randomly called the radio station one evening.  He was impressed with my voice and asked if he could record me making a request.  Of course, I was flattered and agreed.  We found ourselves talking every night.  Through the phone, I began recording the nightly “Top Nine at 9” countdown.  A few weeks into it, he asked if I could come to the station and do some production (commercials, morning show intros, etc) and I was thrilled to do it.  He then put me on the payroll and I began working there twice a week.  I loved it.

He taught me how to work the control board.  How to announce and promote songs to help move them up the charts.  How to record commercials.  He helped me find my inner actress, as I began developing characters for the morning show.  He taught me so much and our attraction grew from there.  I was always far more mature than most girls my age.  By this juncture in my life, I’d had more experience than most twenty-somethings.

And out of nowhere, the relationship became physical.  And once we started down that path, there was no turning back.  We fucked everywhere.  In his car.  At his apartment.  At the radio station (on the general manager’s desk).  We had this all-consuming lust for each other and we could not contain ourselves.  We also had a deep friendship, which made it even more intoxicating.  I didn’t realize what we were doing at the time, as he never labeled it, but he was my first Dom.  He taught me to serve him.  To pleasure him.  To take whatever he wanted to give me.  I was a natural submissive.  I soaked up all of the knowledge he bestowed and honed my skills.  And as I reflect on our time together, I can now see that he was a bit of a sadist.

One evening, I was at the station, working the board with him, when he began taking my clothes off, while I was on live radio.  I was a bit rattled, but as he taught me…I was to stay focused when on air and complete my task.  I managed to finish my segway into another song before he lifted me up onto the counter and began devouring me. I was so in the moment that I almost forgot to put on the next song.  But I regained my composure and played the next one.  As I prepped a long segment of music (four in a row) to give us more time, I’d hoped he would resume his meal…but instead, he pushed me to my knees and rammed himself deep into my throat.

Three songs played as I sucked his cock.  He taught me how he liked it…deep and slow.  And I obliged.  As the fourth song began to play, he pulled me up, turned me around and spread my legs open from behind…

His fingers dove deep into my dripping slit.  He was rough in his pursuit of my spot.  I was so close…so very close…and the song was running out.  I pulled myself together (with his digits still probing inside me) and announced the weather.  It was so hard not to moan while he finger-fucked me.  But I kept composure, once again, and got through my lines.

I prepped for two songs in row by the same artist.  I thought it would give us time to finish our tryst.  He pulled his fingers from my sloppy wet cunt and had me suck each and every one of them clean.  He then bent me over and fucked me from behind for a couple of minutes, directing me to then suck his cock clean.  The second song was running out.  I was getting panicked that I would miss my cue, so I rushed through his directive and grabbed the mic to speak.

As the first words fell from my salty lips, I felt him grope my backside, spread open my cheeks and push his large cock into my ass.  I know I must have gasped on air.  It hurt.  But it was so hot and so primal that I pushed myself into him, practically begging him to fuck me deeper.  He rode my ass relentlessly.  Growling.  Squeezing my flesh with his fingers.  Pulling my hips on his cock as hard as he could.  Lifting me up off of the floor as he penetrated me.  I’d never had anal like that before.  It is where I first recognized my masochistic tendencies.

Once again I pulled myself together to announce an upcoming contest.  He was still inside me.  He was pounding my ass as I spoke to thousands of listeners.  I could barely get audible words out of my mouth. As soon as the mic was off, he pushed my face down on the counter and filled me with his hot load.  He growled under his breath, “next time you try to rush through your directives, I will fuck your ass harder.  And you will take it.  Understand?”  And boy did I understand.  I couldn’t wait for the next time.

And we fucked like that for years.  On air.  Off air.  In the production booth.  At remotes.  We fucked every time we could.  Anytime.  Anywhere.  And yes…

Even on the radio.  

on the radio