Loving Summer

"... yes ..." I whispered.

He picked up a leather strap with hooks at each end and attached one to a ring on the cuff, then adjusted the length so my arm was stretched all the way out above me. "Tell me about that," he said.

"It's ... it's what I say, in my head, to get me off," I replied. "While I'm thinking ... you know, about a, um, fantasy."

"A fantasy?" he asked, hooking the other end of the strap to a ring on the bed frame. "Is it always the same fantasy?" He moved to the cuff around my leg, hooking a longer strap to it. This one he attached higher up, to some kind of device that locked into one of the slots on the metal frame.

"Oh, no," I said. "It's almost always someone diff ... er, something different."

"Someone different," he said, fastening a strap to my ankle cuff and attaching it to the bottom of the bed frame. "What was it the last time?"

"Oh," I said, thinking of yesterday afternoon with Autumn, when she filled my pussy and ass with bigger and bigger dildos, making me cum repeatedly. "Um, well," I said, feeling my face flush. "It was, um ... it wasyou ..."

"Me?" he said, smiling. He moved around to the other side of the bed. "That's flattering. Tell me what you thought about me." He clipped a strap to my other wrist and used it to pull that arm above my head. His huge cock — so black — hung at eye level in front of me. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

"Um," I said, "I was thinking ... about ... your, um ...hands. I ... like how big it is ... they are."

"Hmm," he said, pulling the strap snug so both my arms were stretched out above my head. "What else?" He attached a strap to the leg cuff and to the device on that side.

"Ah, well," I said, pulling at my arms a little. They weren't painful, but I really wasn't getting out of this until he was ready to let me out. "Uh, Demarcus?"

"Yes?" he glanced at me, and he must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he came and sat next to me on the bed, his cock flopping over his thigh, the tip resting against my ribs. "It's all right," he said, in that rich, chocolaty voice. He cupped my cheek in his big, warm hand and stroked his thumb over my cheekbone. I pressed my cheek into his palm.

"You know," he said, sliding his hand down the side of my neck and wrapping his long fingers around my nape, massaging lightly, "Austin said I should use your training name."

"Oh," I said. "I thought ..."

"Yes?"

"I thought that was just ... if I was, uh, bad," I stammered.

"Well, not exactly," he said, bringing his other hand to my breast and stroking a thumb across my nipple.

"Oh!" I gasped. He smiled and stroked his thumb tip around my aureole, making it pucker and my nipple swell.

"Trash," he said, his voice like the purr of a lion, one hand massaging the back of my neck, the other tickling my nip. I looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Yes, sir?" I said, and my pussy clenched. Oh, no! I thought. I'm going to .... "Oh!" I cried, "oh, Demarcus, I'm ...." His thumb made one last slow circuit of my nipple, and my core erupted. He smiled fondly into my eyes until my climax finally juddered to an end.

"So, here's the thing, Trash," he said, gently smoothing a strand of hair from my forehead. He held my eyes. "My gramma had a saying. She'd say, 'One man's trash is another man's treasure.'"

"... treasure ...?"

He nodded. "I'm sure your training name means something different to you, and to Austin, but when you hear me say it ... well, you'll know what it means to me. Okay?"

"Okay ... yes, sir," I said, his face a little blurry through unshed tears. I blinked them away and offered him a tremulous smile.

"Good," he said, and stood, treating me to another good look at his giant schlong, then attached the last strap to my other ankle. He walked around fine-tuning the adjustments of the straps, then pressed a button on a remote. The two devices whirred, the straps drew up, and my knees were pulled up and out so I was stretched wide open, my pelvis lifted slightly off the bed.

"Oh, Demarcus, what?!..." I yelped. He made a few more adjustments, and my legs spread even wider.

"So, Trash," he said, grinning down at my gaping sex, "have you ever heard of 'cunnilingus?'"

"I, uh, I think so," I stuttered.

He climbed onto the bed and knelt between my legs, knees an inch from my crotch. With the backs of his fingers, he brushed up and down along my inner thighs, sending shivers up through my core. "Tell me what you know about cunnilingus, Trash," he said, using the tips of his fingers to tickle my outer folds.

"Oh, I ... uh, it's where ...." His thumbs came down on either side of my clit, pressing firmly up and out. My button popped up, quivering.

"Yes?" he said.

"Uh ..." I said. Was he going to touch it? It felt so hot, so trembly, one touch, and I'd ... he moved his thumbs away, reached over the tops of my thighs and put his big hands on my hips, squeezing a little. "Ah ... it's where ...."

"Yes?" he asked. When he'd leaned forward, his cock, now a lot firmer than it had been, came to rest atop my nubbin, which was so engorged, so sensitive, I could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his cock.

"Oh, shit ... uh ... cunnilingus ...." I gasped out. He shifted, the weight of his penis lifting away from my throbbing button. He went down on his stomach between my widespread legs and slid his big hands beneath my ass, lifting me slightly up to his lips. Gently, he gave my pussy a chaste kiss on the lips. "... ohhhhh, ohhh ..." I groaned.

For several long moments, he just held me there like that — naked, helpless, spread wide open — and breathed on me. Moist breath from his mouth flowed over my vulva, warming and tickling my folds, then cool air rushed into his nose, sweeping across and cooling my raging clit. I groaned, my pussy all but vibrating with anticipation of his next touch.

When it came, though, it wasn't what I expected. I wanted his tongue on my clit; instead, he licked my butthole. "Ah! Oh," I said as his tongue began painting little circles of cool saliva around my tight rosebud. I clenched up at first, then slowly began to relax into the sensation.

His tongue tip began to travel slowly upward, along the crease between my thigh and outer labia. All my consciousness locked onto that tiny point of contact between us as it skated closer and closer to my hot, throbbing clit. "Oh, Demarcus," I groaned "... please ...." He was going to lick it. My button stood up like a begging puppy, and my body trembled on the ragged edge of release.

But then, the roving tongue tip skirted around my nubbin and began its slow promenade back down my other cunt lip. "Ohhhhh, please ..." I moaned. My button ached, it was so hard, and it throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

The slowly moving millimeter of flesh in contact with Demarcus' tongue tip had become the entire focus of my concentration. When it arrived back at my anus and began tracing languid circles around it once again, the sensation made my entire body tremble. Around and around, then it dipped into the center of my rosebud and pressed. "Oh, shit ..." I moaned. It pressed deeper, deeper, then back to circling. "Oh, god, Demarcus ... please ..." I panted.

It was coming back up, now, moving back toward my tumid clit, this time along the very center of my slit, pressing just hard enough to open my lips and gather my droplets of honey. His tongue laved the moisture across my nubbin and swept once, twice, three times, around it. My eyes rolled back, and my body shook uncontrollably.

For just an instant, he lifted his face and rumbled. "You can cum now, Trash." Then he touched his warm, wet tongue directly to the raw, bare tip of my clitoris where it protruded excitedly from its little hood, and I came, shrieking, my body convulsing against the straps, my mind exploding with racing sparkles of electricity. "Ohhhhh, SHIT!" I screamed. "Oh, fucking SHIT!"

Just as I felt the spasms begin to wane, he placed his palm over my crotch and pressed firmly. "Oh! ... ohh," I cried as I came some more — or maybe I came again, I don't know. It just seemed like the longest, most intense orgasm I'd ever had.

When it was finally over, I collapsed against the restraints, barely conscious. I heard the whine of the two winches, and the tension holding up my legs eased. My knees fell wide, but I was too relaxed to move them, so I just lay there, my pussy spread open shamelessly for Demarcus.

He moved around the bed, removing the straps and cuffs as I lay there limply in a puddle of afterglow. After a while, I felt the mattress shift as he sat beside me, and, with a little effort, I opened my eyes to look at him. He smiled and said, "That was cunnilingus. What did you think of that, Trash?"

"Um ..." I mumbled numbly. "... was nice ... really nice."

"Good," he said. "Next, we'll work on fellatio. But first, I'm going to order some room service. You just rest for a bit."

I didn't move, didn't even nod. I just lay there spread open wide in the sluttiest position imaginable while he ordered us a meal. I felt his eyes on me, on my pink, exposed sex. Deliberately, I thought the words, "Yes, sir," and I knew he could see droplets of honey seeping from my center and trickling over my butthole.

When a knock sounded, though, and Demarcus — now clad in a pair of swim trunks — moved to open the door, I realized that the room service staffer would also be able to see my naked pussy. With a squeak, I bounced off the bed and scampered into the bedroom just as the door swung open. I can't guarantee that the server didn't catch a glimpse of my naked ass as I darted from the room.

While I waited in the bedroom for him to take the delivery, I wondered if I should get dressed. Demarcus had put on the swim shorts, but probably just to answer the door, and hehad said we would be training some more after we ate. Besides, I'd left the camisole and thong out on the deck, so I decided to remain naked. When I heard the door close and came back out to join him, he nodded approvingly and gestured toward the deck.

We settled at the outdoor table and enjoyed the meal. He'd removed the shorts again, so we were both comfortably nude, which I hoped was as fun for him as it was for me. I couldn't see enough of his big, black, muscular body, and my hungry eyes tracked his huge cock any time it was in my line of sight.

After we ate, Demarcus poured a couple of glasses of wine and handed one to me. I sipped, and he said, "So, you've learned a little something about cunnilingus, though you won't likely ever hear anyone else call it that. Now, I need to show you some things about fellatio. Do you know what that is?"

I shrugged. "I don't think I've ever heard the word, but I guess it must be the opposite. Like, the scientific name for cock sucking, or whatever."

"Latin," he said, "but that's right. Now, you're not going to be doing any deep throat with me, at least not tonight, but you do need to learn your way around a dick."

He stood and came to stand in front of me, his big member hanging down like a sleepy anaconda. "Hold it," he said. "Get used to it. Play."

I sat forward on the edge of the chair. I'd seen Demarcus' penis before, but now I could look at it up close. It was very black — even blacker than the rest of his skin — except for the head, which was a deep mulberry. I reached out tentatively, and lifted it. It was heavy, warm, and velvety soft.

I held it in one palm and stroked my fingertips along its length. It stirred, and seemed to swell slightly. I glanced up at him, and he smiled, nodding encouragingly. I did it again, and it swelled a little more. Its weight seemed to lessen as it lifted slightly away from my hand. I let go, and it hovered there, pointing at my tits.

I grasped the shaft of it in one hand — it was already much thicker than it had been — and gave it a little squeeze, lifting it toward my face. It grew even more turgid, and the head plumped up, the ridge around the top edge standing up proudly. A fat bead of clear fluid oozed out of the little slit at the tip.

"Oh," I said, "that looks just like my honey. I wonder if it tastes the same." Impulsively, I licked the drop off. "Mmm," I said, "not really, but super slick." I squeezed his dick again, and it obliged with another, smaller, drop. I collected it on my fingertip and rubbed it against my thumb. "Wow," I said, "that's even slicker than pussy honey."

Even more interesting had been how the head of his cock felt. I touched it, then kissed it, noting the difference between the velvet sponginess of the head and the hard, veiny shaft. I loved the feel of it against my lips. I licked it. "Mmmm." I licked it all over, traced my tongue along the swollen ridge.

The cock had grown a lot while I'd been playing with the head, and now, when I let it go, it bounced up, pointing at my face. I couldn't help but giggle. Grabbing it tightly with both hands, I jerked back and forth. "Like this?" I asked.

Demarcus grimaced. "Too hard," he said, "and you got to get it all wet first, girl. Use your tongue."

I held it up and licked it, but quickly ran out of saliva. "Breath in through your nose," he said, "and out through your mouth. The warm air in your lungs won't dry your mouth out, and it'll trigger your saliva glands. Don't swallow any of it. If your mouth fills up, spit it on me."

Concentrating, I did as he said. I knew about breathing from dance classes, as well as a couple of semesters of choir I'd done, but I'd never realized how much spit I could produce as long as I kept up this breathing pattern. Soon, my mouth was so flooded that I could spit some on my hand.

Once again, I gripped his shaft and tried a stroke. Too hard. I loosened my grip and tried again. My hand slipped slickly along his pole, and Demarcus rewarded me with a low rumble of approval.

"That's good, girl," he said, "uh, Trash."

To my surprise, when he said the word, I felt him deflate a little — not much, but, with my hand wrapped tight around his cock, I noticed. Demarcus really didn't like my training name, appropriate though I knew it was.

I stroked his shaft some more, reveling in the slightly lumpy feeling of the veins along its length. I especially liked the big vein, or tube, or whatever, that ran along the underside. I lifted up and licked it. "Ahhh," he groaned. Ooh, I thought, he liked that.

I stroked him again, but it had started getting dry, so I licked him all over again, paying special attention to the big underside vein. Accidentally, I flicked my tongue across his sack. "Mmmm," he said. Ah, he liked that, too.

I shifted my knees a little, and angled my head, and started licking his balls. "Ahh, yeah, girl," he growled.

I lifted his cock up, and that helped bring his ballsack in range. I lipped it, turned my head a little more, then got one between my lips. I tongued his ball, my mouth feeling the taut organ of his testicle, like an egg, sliding beneath the sparsely hairy, but baby-smooth skin of his sack. Shifting my knees again, and twisting my neck, I pursued it, finally lipping it between my teeth and into my mouth.

Remembering my other hand, I gave his cock a stroke or two, but all my attention was on the ball in my mouth. I swished it around, and it seemed to dance on my tongue, as if it were happy to visit. Delighted, I smacked my lips around it a couple of times. "Oh,Damn, girl," Demarcus groaned.

I looked up at him, which was really quite easy from this position. He looked down at me, at his big, black ball in my mouth, and I giggled. It just bubbled out of me; it seemed so funny, his ball in my mouth. I stroked his cock, watched his face, and sucked on his ball. It feltso good in there, and I liked that I could make him feel something, too.

When his dick got dry, I reluctantly let his ball pop out of my mouth so I could lick his cock all over, then maneuvered until I could suck in the other ball. "Ah, girl, that's good," Demarcus crooned. I stroked faster, feeling his shaft swell even more under my hand.

I sucked and smacked at his nut, stroking steadily, watching his face, until he grunted, "Suck ... now ..." I let the testicle slip from my lips with one last smack, cupped his balls in one hand, and stroked him with the other, while I placed my lips over his big, spongy crown and sucked enthusiastically.

In no more than a minute, his big cock seemed to swell, bigger and bigger, until it began to jerk in my hand, and great streams of hot, salty man cum flowed into my mouth. I tried to swallow, but there was so much ... I gagged, and warm, milky fluid ran from the corners of my lips and dripped onto my tits.

"Glurk ... uhgluck ..." I choked, finally managing to get my throat under control and successfully swallowing the last several squirts.

"Mmm, that's some pretty good cocksucking for a first-timer, Trash," Demarcus rumbled approvingly.

I sucked and stroked on his cock as it slowly softened and returned to its sleepy-dragon state. I was really just enjoying the feel of it in my hands, in my mouth, on my lips and tongue. After I'd been playing with it for a while, it started to stiffen again.

"Up, here, Trash," Demarcus said, patting the table. "Quick, now, while it's not too big for you."

I jumped to my feet, excitement flaring through my body. It was finally time; he was going to put it in me! I'd been anticipating this all day, wondering how it would feel, and I was even more eager to know now that I had experienced it with my hands and mouth.

I sat on the edge of the table, and lay back. He took a pillow from one of the chairs and put it under my head, then arranged me with my butt at the very edge of the table. He held my legs behind the knees, lifting and spreading them, and nodded to me.

"You put it in," he said. "You tell me when to push."

I reached down and found his cock with one hand, spreading my lips with the other; I was very wet, of course. He was already harder than he had been.

I pulled him closer and placed the big, spongy head against my gate. "Push ... a little," I said, and he pressed forward slightly. His shaft wanted to buckle, but I grabbed a handful of him and stuffed it inside me. His cock obliged by swiftly getting harder. "Ooh," I murmured, "push, a little ... more ... ah, just there."

We both held very still, then, as I experienced his cock growing inside me. It was the strangest sensation: a bit like a balloon being blown up in my vagina, maybe. I kept expecting it to hurt, and it did get uncomfortably stretched when he reached his full size, but it wasn't too terribly painful.

When I was sure it wasn't going to swell any more, I whispered, "Oh, Demarcus ... it's big ..."

He nodded. "Are you okay?"

"Y, yes," I said. "Can you ... fuck me, just a little?"

He began making tiny little shifts forward and back, but every movement felt magnified inside of me. I gasped, but groped for his hips to urge him on. He continued his slow, short thrusts, but fell into a gently, rocking rhythm. "Ahhh," I moaned. "That feels sogood, Demarcus."

"Mmmm," he commented.

Gradually, his pace increased, as did the length of his stroke. "Oh, yeah, Demarcus," I groaned. "I'm ... that's so ..."

He slowed his pace and returned to a shorter thrust. "Try to hold it a little longer, honey; you barely had it in there a minute, yet," he said.

"O, okay," I said. "I'll try ..." I'd never really triednot to cum before.

Once again, he increased his pace, while I concentrated on pushing down that orgasmic feeling that I had spent years encouraging at every opportunity. It was hard, like trying to hold back a sneeze. "Ohh," I whined, "... ohh, ohhh ..."

He slowed again, but continued his longer strokes, and the steady rhythm that was driving me crazy. He let go of my legs, leaving me to hold them open myself. Using his thumbs again, one to either side of my clit, he pressed firmly, and my tiny nubbin popped up, naked and engorged.