Donovan's Fetishes

[These two stories have virtually nothing in common but their category, which is why they make a nice contrast -- the darkened play room, the brightly sunlit grass.]

Good For One Thing

"Men are only good for one thing," I explained to June.

The pretty blonde crinkled her brow. "But I thought you were independently wealthy," she said after a moment of thinking about it. "Why would you need a man for anything?"

And people wonder why women in their dirty thirties get such a kick out of seducing the young. "Come with me and you'll see."

June was intrigued and happy to tag along. After all, I was the one who introduced her to the joys of bondage and the special satisfactions of the all-female orgy. I had even taken her anal virginity with one of my long, elegant strap-ons. If I was involved, she knew there was something out of the ordinary going on.

Stan waited for me back at my condo, bound naked in the black velvet rope that looked so exciting against the pale white flesh of his geek's body. I'd met him at the university, a happy hunting ground for kinksters of all stripes. June was more purely lesbian than most of the women her age I had slept with, and when we entered the toy room, she eyed his eight-inch erection with alarm. He was tied to the whipping bench, but instead of the usual face-down position he was face-up, so his obtrusive male equipment thrust what must have seemed to her like a mile into the air. The head was flushing a furious shade of maroon, and blue veins stood out in high relief on the shaft.

There was a padded leather stepstool next to the bench, one that June hadn't seen before. She watched curiously as I removed my clothes and stepped onto it. I was cunt-high to Stan's face, and he was staring hungrily at my pink plush curves. I keep myself shaved, of course, and I was well-oiled as well, so I knew the room lights were gleaming off my naked body.

"Is he going to eat you?" June asked. "I thought you said men weren't very good at pussy-munching."

"They'll never be as good as women," I said. "But they do make excellent toilets." When I spoke the key word, Stan's mouth stretched wide open, and I tilted the angle of my pelvis -- just so. A hot gush of acrid yellow fluid came pouring from my bladder.

Stan drank it down shamelessly, not caring who watched him as he indulged himself in his favorite liqueur. It was rare to find a toilet slave as enthusiastic as this one. He didn't care about my sexual orientation or my scorn of males. He didn't even mind having to be tied up and paraded in front of my female lovers. All that mattered to him was the taste of my personal spray.

I squirted and squirted, squeezing my muscles to force out every drop, and Stan swallowed it all. June made little gasping sounds. I looked up at her and saw a line of spittle running from the corner of her mouth to her chin. She blushed and licked it off, but I knew what was going through her head. She was both deeply shocked and profoundly aroused at the sight of this male drinking from my bladder. When I was finished and glanced in her direction again, I saw that her pants and panties were around her knees and she was fumbling desperately with her clit.

As for Stan, he smacked his piss-wet lips against my cunt and then jerked violently within his bonds. As always, the mere taste of my squalid juice was enough to pull his trigger. Screaming between my thighs, he shot off into the air, sending his cream so high that it splatted against the ceiling. I looked up as it dripped down in blobs, staining his face and my thighs.

After gagging Stan with a black leather strap, I descended from the stool and turned away from the bench. He fought fiercely against the black velvet rope, but he only succeeded in pulling the knots tighter until he could barely move at all. June and I pretended he no longer existed as we spread out some black satin floor pillows and began to do the sixty-nine together. The look on my young lover's face was priceless as she dabbled her fingers in the wetness along my thighs and then sucked them dry, thrilled at her own daring at having tasted for the first time the spilled juices of a male. We came several times each before we were sated, soaking our mouths and cheeks with each other's pure essence of cunt.

As always after an extended sex session, June discovered that she had to pee. She got up out of habit and turned in the direction of the bathroom, but I pulled her back. "Why walk all the way down the all when we have a convenient toilet right here?"

June giggled. She looked not at his face but at his organ, which was already pointing to the spot on the ceiling again. "I didn't know men could get stiff again that fast."

"Piss drinkers get amazingly hard, amazingly fast," I said. "It's almost enough to make me go bisexual -- almost."

Stan smiled in anticipation around his gag when June approached him. She pulled off the strap, then jerked back a little when he stretched his mouth wide open. I believe she was shocked all over again by this display of his desire for female piss. Taking a deep breath, she mounted the stool and forced her pussy into place over his mouth.

For a moment, nothing came out. It's difficult to overcome the old programming for a bit. Finally, though, she let out first a trickle and then a gush. Stan drank greedily, his Adam's apple working up and down as he quenched his thirst on June's sweetness. I enjoyed watching him drink almost as much as I had enjoyed pissing in him.

But I also understood the limits of the male physiology. While June was relieving herself, I got up and reached between the whipping bench and his ass. He wouldn't blast off just from tasting piss this time -- the first ejaculation had removed too much of the pressure. However, if I slipped my finger right into his asshole at precisely the same moment that he was swallowing the thickest of her flow ... yes! Once again he was painting the ceiling, not to mention June's lovely young nakedness.

When we finally untied him and allowed him to leave, June was shocked once again that he clumsily handed me $300 in appreciation for being used as a human toilet. "True, I don't need the money", I told her after he was gone. "But for some men, paying to be pissed on is all part of their humiliation fantasies."

She nodded slowly as I pulled her down to the floor and began to lick Stan's come off her beautiful skin.

##### ##### #####

Fucking Black Leather

The smell of his jacket intoxicated me. I grabbed at his sleeve, tugging his powerful body in my direction. "Please," I begged him. "I've got to be fucked by a biker. It's my only fantasy. I can't get off on any other kind of fucking. Please."

The heavily muscled man sneered as he looked up and down my small slim body. I don't have much of a figure, but I was wearing a pink sundress that was scanty enough to show that I didn't have a single tattoo anywhere.

"Go back to teaching Sunday-school class," he snorted.

However did he know that? I shook my head -- it wasn't important now. I was tired of just fantasizing about the taste and feel of sweaty leather. I had to have it on top of me, crushing my body, pumping into my mouth and my pussy. There was only one way to make him take me seriously.

I kicked off my candy-pink sandals and reached around back to undo the multiple buttons of the sundress. Dropping the soft cotton to the ground, I stood in front of him totally naked, my bare feet stinging against the coarse gravel of the parking lot.

"You don't know what you're asking for, missy," he said. "Get out of here before my brothers come out of the bar."

"I d-do know what I'm asking for." I trembled, but I grabbed for the hard lump slung on the left side of his heavy black leather pants. I massaged it roughly with my hand, then bent and tried to lick it. The leather had probably never been dry-cleaned, and it smelled and tasted of the road. After that, there was no reason why the biker should have exercised any restraint whatsoever.

Scooping me into his arms, he carried me off the gravel lot and over to a stretch of grass nearby. He lowered me to the ground, undid his leather fly, and whipped out his cock through the opening. It was much bigger and a much darker shade of purple than even my fantasies had shown me.

"Can you handle something this size?" he asked me, still sneering at me.

I didn't really know, but I was desperate to try, so I gulped and nodded at him. I pulled him down onto my body and wrapped my legs desperately around his leather-covered form. The sun was in my eyes, but I didn't care. The weight of the heavily muscled biker's body began to pound me into the turf. His huge dick was sliding into my pussy, expanding it on the inside, stretching muscles I didn't know I had. Just as I had climbed the plateau to my first orgasm ever with a man, I heard voices as several other bikers exited from the bar.

"Well, look at this," said one.

"Shitfire," said another. "We're only in town ten minutes, and Frankie's already found himself a slut."

My eyes were closed, but I could hear the sounds of men shuffling their boots around me and the sharp ripping sounds of zippers coming open. When I blinked them open again, there were a dozen cocks silhouetted against the bright sky. Like Frankie, they'd left on their leather jeans and just pulled their hard-ons out through the pissholes in their protective riding pants. Perfect.

The smell of sweaty leather was thick in the air, and then it was suddenly mingled with the sour-salty smell of Frankie's sudden ejaculation. I screamed, unashamed to realize that I was coming at the same moment, coming as hard as he was.

He'd barely staggered away from my jism-filled cunt when the next biker climbed on me. He wasn't as gentlemanly as Frankie. None of them were. Why should they be? They hadn't seen me in the pink sandals, the sundress. All they'd seen were my pale legs grappling Frankie's leather pants, my heels pulling his ass to me with every thrust of his huge cock.

I got into the gang-bang fantasy with a vengeance, rocking and rolling under biker after biker, coming with or without them. I had always known that I could achieve multiple orgasms if only I could smell the thick nasty scent of come-stained leather in my nostrils while I did it.

There were twelve, maybe thirteen of them, and each one took his turn in my cunt or my mouth or both. I licked and sucked their dicks with wild enthusiasm as the smell of unwashed leather and unwashed male penetrated my nose from only a few inches away, until I couldn't tell whether I was gagging from the smell or from the cock down my throat. I had some of my best orgasms that way without so much as a fingertip on my clit.

Finally, Frankie came back for a second round in my pussy. This fuck lasted the longest, because I was so sloppy wet, and he'd already gotten off once before, that there was barely enough friction to keep him going. But he was persistent, banging me between my sore thighs with his long, thick cock until finally we both exploded in the biggest and best mutual orgasm of the day.

The men I go on occasional dates with think I'm cold and uninterested in sex. But they'd have quite a different image of me if they'd seen me in the grass outside the biker's bar that day. I know I shouldn't ever go back -- but the memories of the taste of Frankie's leather are beginning to haunt my dreams every night. I know that I'll return there to suck and fuck black leather again and again -- and again.