Of another place in time...

He says to me...

Your email was sweet. I knew you like to be used, but something about today's just made it click for me. I looked at your eyes in your pictures again and it's there: "I'm smarter than you, and I've judged you, now fucking use and abuse me." And I want to.


I push him, because that's what I do.

I provoke and I taunt. I tease constantly.

When we meet up, him slapping me across the face is a well-loved ritual that leads into other, more bruising, activities.

He's stronger than me, bigger than me. His entire body is hard muscle and he can lift and throw me across the bed with the barest hint of effort.

Last time we met up, in San Francisco, he brought one of his friends over to play with us. Two dominant males. What else could a girl ask for?

The three of us in SFPlayboy's bed. I'm going down on him while his friend is alternating areas he wishes to bruise and sliding fingers deep into me. I'm on my stomach, raising my ass into the air, curling into his hands, his movements, while still focusing on the cock in my mouth.

"V, go down on M," Playboy says.
M interjects, "I'm having fun at this end."
"No, you need to let her go down on you. Really."

I love being the favored toy.

I switch the direction I'm facing. SFPlayboy's fingers seek my core as he leans back against the pillows to watch me go to work on his friend.

Mouth, tongue, lips. Fingers and palms aren't necessary, he's responsive as hell and his penis is angled perfectly for my mouth. I don't know if I've ever found such a perfect oral fit. Within minutes he's shooting his load down my throat as Playboy watches with masculine satisfaction.

Later, he tells me, "I think I might start using your mouth to settle lost bets and favors owed."

This, this is the life.