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From: horsefly <ebergese@haywire.csuhayward.edu>
Subject: He'd Wanted This (F/M, strap-on)
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DISCLAIMER: this story is for those mature enough in their own sexuality
to read the adventures--fictious or otherwise--of others.  I therefore
place no age requirement on those who read this (and any other story i may
post in the future), though i recognize that some people are restricted by
law from reading stories of a sexually explicity nature.  If you knowingly
fit this catagory, or are not aroused by steamy tales, *don't read this.*
Also, please do not share this story with other people who you know to be
deemed by law as "not allowed" to read such material.

Permission is granted to save this story to private computer for
personal viewing or to be reposted within this newsgroup so long as both
the disclaimer and copyright of the writer and owner--that's ME!--remain
intact.  However, permission to print or archive this story, as well
as--horror of horrors!--selling this story as your own are all expressly
forbidden.  The last, should I find out about it, will cause no end of
legal grief.

Enough legalese and authorial posturing! :)  I hope you enjoy this
as much as I enjoyed writing it; comments and suggestions are welcome.
				  -=|horsefly|=-

He'd Wanted This
	copyright 1998, -=|horsefly|=-
		ebergese@haywire.csuhayward.edu

	He'd wanted this.  Begged, pleaded, and cajoled.  He bought the
bloody thing himself, told his lover he trusted her with it.  Had she
ever used one before?  No.  But that didn't stop him.  He'd wanted
this....
	And now he was naked in his living room, his luscious girlfriend
behind him, holding the cheeks of  his ass open and sliding a very slick
dildo between his legs, teasing him.  The hard latex brushed his scrotum,
nudging his right testicle.  "Keep your hands around your ankles, baby,"
she chided, her voice silky-soft.  "Remember, this monster stays lubed
for your tiny ass only so long as you do as I told you," and the menace
and authority he'd never heard from her before snickered in the shadows
of her words; he swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his ankles.
	"Monster" was right, he reflected.  Without thinking, he'd
purchased the biggest thing the store carried, eight inches long and
two in diameter, the strap-on cock his lover wore was as life-like as
they came: its veined, slightly upward-curving shaft terminated in a
egg-shaped head (for easier entry, he'd hoped while inspecting it),
painted in a flesh-tone so close to real that he *almost* couldn't say it
was fake, with even a soft line along the bottom (where a tube ran hidden
inside the latex from the tip to the base) with a tiny hole at the end.
The most surprising (if one didn't know about the fake eurethra) feature
was the hollow mold of the balls and scrotum.  The device had come with a
supply of powder and instructions on how to add water and fill the cavity
with the fluid (At the right moment, he'd smirked...).  Perhaps he'd
fancied using it on her?  No, this was no time to fool himself....
	The hardwood floor was cold beneath his feet, and a breeze
wafted around him from the large open window on the west side of the
room, shriveling his penis and raising gooseflesh all over his body, the
hair on his arms, inner thighs, and the nape of his neck raised as if
each follicle had a sensor at its end that could sense danger.  He smiled
ruefully between his legs at the thought, just as his lover slid a wet
finger all the way up his hole!  Smile forgotten, he gritted his teeth,
trying to stifle a groan.  With his fingers coming loose (and this is just
her finger! he thought), he had bigger issues to deal with than pride.
Wincing as the invading digit squirmed deeper within him, he tightened his
grip again, making holding both ankles the most paramount thought on his
mind.  Behind him, he saw the firm, lightly tanned legs of his lover, heard 
her sultry laugh... and felt her slowly twist that finger inside him.  He
groaned, availing to steady himself and keep his hands where they NEEDED TO
BE.

	They had discussed this a few weeks ago when he had first bought
the toy: how would they act, what precisely would they do, did he *really*
trust her (she wanted to know)?  He did.  So he wound up offering
suggestions to her, and for her part, she kept her own counsel.

	Tonight, telling him "the living room is prepared," she had
pulled him away from his writing.  He'd eagerly ventured out then, and
she had ordered him to strip completely naked, bend over, and grip his
ankles.  With some trepidation, and with the excitement of having a
fantasy fulfilled, he had complied.  He'd heard rustling behind him, and
presumed that she was likewise disrobing.  After he had finished doing as
she'd said, he followed her feet move around him, then saw her kneel in
front of him, her face visible; she was, as he'd hoped and suspected, naked
(but for the faux-cock secured in the thick leather harness that he bought
seperately, giving his lover freedom to use her hands elsewhere).
	With a steadying, comforting hand on his right shoulder, she had
informed him that as long as he did what he was doing now, she would make
this as painless as it could be.  "You said you trust me, sweetheart, and
I believe you.  Trust this, though: it *will* hurt.  There's no stopping
that. I'll not go faster or harder than you can handle while you obey my
one edict.  And I will keep," she had wrapped her right hand around the
plastic shaft, "this," and she'd let go of the dildo, reached between his
legs, and pressed a finger on his anus, "and this," she had massaged his
sphincter for a moment, "as lubricated as possible.  I promise."  Her hand
sped to her breast and made a slow, deliberate cross over her heart.
	His neck had begun to ache looking at her in this awkward position,
but he dared not look away from her now.  She was always beautiful--her
hair waist-length and dark red hair with blonde highlights; her eyes a
vibrant shade of hazel that somehow never failed to see something good in
him; her lips full; her nose a light touch that crinkled adorably when
she smiled; her breasts the size of oranges, pert and easily excitable,
especially her dark pink nipples, so thick and sweet; her flat stomach,
toned by years of crunches--but now there was an element of terror in her
visage; he had only to look where her hand had been (lower, his mind 
whispered) a few moments before to see why.  She'd risen suddenly, the
strap-on rising with his lover's body, and it brushed his cheek, slick with
whatever lubrication she'd greased it with.
	Her slender fingers roamed lightly over his back, her sculptress'
hands strong, kneading his stretched muscles and rubbing in some of the
extra lube.  "There's something else, though.  You should know the
consequences of disobeying me."  He strained to look up at her, but with a
hand on his head she kept him from meeting her eyes.  As she rubbed and
gently squeezed some of the stress out of his neck, she had continued, 
"Take your hands off your ankles, luv, and I will take this toy out of you,
but don't think I will stop.  Instead, I will clean off the lubricant and
resume fucking you... *dry!*
	"Also, should you release your hold on your ankles, I will 
consider myself similarly released from the concern of hurting you with
this big prick."  She had stroked his hair gently as if in counterpoint
to the picture she was painting, a soft chuckle in her voice as she went
on, "If you thought I was a wild woman in bed before...."
	He had swallowed, released and retightened his grip on his ankles
from his left thumb down to his right pinkie, one finger at a time, then
nodded, as if to show that he understood, and was holding on for dear life
already.  "I understand," his voice had trembled.  "I love you."
	"I love you, too, dearheart," she had replied, bending down and
at the same time bringing her hand from the back of his head down to his
jawline, bringing his face to hers gently.  He could tell that she wasn't
trying to get him to let go of his ankles, and he wouldn't.  Indeed, the
look that passed between them was one of starkest love and devotion; a
brief, chaste kiss seemed to communicate every ounce of love he felt for
her, and he felt it from her, too.  Her eyes sparkling as she pulled back,
she had straightened, then walked slowly around him.  And then, despite
the breeze, he was sweating steadily in anticipation.
	That had been ten minutes ago.
	He jerked as she began fucking him with her long forefinger,
acutely aware of each sixteenth of an inch inside him she slid; aware
also of the complex texture of her skin--a breath-taking experience, to
be sure.  True to her word, his lover used small, deliberate, gentle
motions.  He almost wished she'd move faster, but was grateful that she
didn't.  Not yet.  He was getting accustomed to her finger inside him, and
he thought she was probably getting similarly accustomed.  A languid
acceptance of what was happening settled over him, and he began breathing
deeply.  The finger inside him rotated slowly, beginning a breathtaking
massage of his prostate that *almost* made him let go of his ankles.
	He felt her other hand on his left hip, steadying him, and he
smiled, groaning with satisfied lust, "Ohhhh, yessss!  Do it, baby.  Fuck
me with your finger."
	She chuckled behind him, massaging his hip and pressing a second
finger into him.  Her nails had been trimmed, and the edges were smooth.
The lubricant from the second finger was much cooler than that of the
finger already working inside him, and the contrast in temperatures made
him sigh and grind his hips back.  She rewarded him by gently tickling his
prostate, sighing like molasses, "You're such a slut, baby."
	"Your slut," he smiled.  He could feel her grinning behind him.
	"Yes, my slut."  She laughed at the role reversal, and he joined
her.  How often had he fucked her?  How often had he taken her in wild and
exciting ways?  She'd been one for daring adventures--taking out his cock
and giving him a handjob as they strapped in and waited in suspense on The
Edge at Great America several years ago.  He'd never forget the moment of
orgasm, exactly when the mechanism released and the two of them were in
free-fall for that brief, mind-chilling moment, and then plummetted to the
end of the ride.
	Two minutes ago she'd begun slowly expanding her fingers like a
scissors, widening the diameter of his spincter, going slowly, cooing to
him to keep him relaxed.  The state he was in was almost trance-like--his
body a wash of pleasurable brushes, sworls of ecstasy and small joys, and
yet he knew it was only prepatory.  He licked his lips in anticipation, his
eyes rolling back.  He steadily rolled his hips back against her hand, and
she was penetrating him deeper and deeper....
	"Are you ready, darling?"
	"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yeeeaaaahhhhhhhhh."
	Slowly, ever so slowly, she pressed the gargantuan head of the
dildo against his lubricated and relaxed anus.  He felt her thumb alongside
the cockhead, her nail brushing the hair of his crack, and he guessed she
was holding the prick like he had on occations like this, guiding it into
him as he'd so often guided himself into her.  He smiled at this and
resisted the urge to swiftly impale himself on what in a different era and
under a different mindset would have been a stake, the instrument of a
particular country's mode of execution.  He shuddered at the thought and
tightened his grip on his ankles.  "Mmmmm, baby, you're being good," his
lover cooed to him, stroking his sides, relaxing him and expelling the
hideous thought.  Gently she worked the dildo inside of him, until he was
thoroughly stuffed with its long, hard girth.  He bit his lip and moaned at
the feeling, the first time ever that something larger than a finger had
been inside his ass.  "Do you like that?" she murmured.  He nodded his head
vigorously and moaned again; she chuckled and played with his nipples,
making him whimper.  He felt her other hand snake up his right hip, along
his side, tickling his ribs, brushing his angelbone, and caressing the
muscles of his neck until her fingers wrapped tightly around a handful of
his sandy brown hair, and he arched his head back in her grip.  The message
was clear: he was completely in her power.
	"I love you, baby," she intoned, carefully plunging the entire
length into him to the base.  Drawing out of him and gently sawing back and
forth until she was inside again, she worked towards a gentle, steady
motion, what he figured was her getting used to the idea and movements of
fucking him.  He groaned a low, lusty affirmative back at her, and she
hugged his shoulders.  He rocked back against her, beginning to move to her
rhythm.  Grinning, he luxuriated in the way she controlled the flow,
enjoying things from the other side.
	He couldn't count the number of times he'd taken her--on her
belly, on her back, in the shower, on the kitchen counter-top, in the
basement when they were going through some of their old things; the times
she had seduced him, playing with him under the table as they sat at dinner
with their respective parents, or when she'd goaded him into fucking her in
the bushes one night while their friends were only fifty yards away and
staring through a telescope at the constellations... those were also
innumerable.  The two of them were made for each other, and she had given
herself to him without question.  So it was only right that he would
finally do this for her.  He loved her with every fiber of his being, and
he was going to enjoy this total surrender.  Feeling her take him now, it
was a wonderful new thing.  As her dildo slid deep inside him, he grunted
and shifted his hips.  She began fucking him faster, harder, and at the end
of each in-stroke, she rolled her hips, letting the monster harnessed to
her waist plunge deeper into him with a twist that sent shudders through
every part of his body at once.  He could feel his prostate *glow* from the
stimulation it was recieving, and he whimpered and moaned his ecstasy.
	"You like that baby?" she marveled, again picking up the pace.  It
was a bit uncomfortable now, but he wasn't about to ask her to stop.
Still, she had promised to make it as painless and enjoyable as possible so
long as he kept his hands on his ankles....
	Fastening his grip tight, he replied, giving his voice just a hint
of agony, "Unnggggggh, oohhh, I love it, baby... but... could I have a
little more lube on that beast?  Please...?"
	Behind him, she slowed, pulling out until only the head of that
huge cock remained inside him, stretching his well-fucked asshole.  He
could feel her smiling, "Of course, baby.  You've been a very good boy."
He heard her squeeze some more Astroglide out of the bottle; the thick,
wet, sticky sounds as she slid it up and down the shaft made him hard as
steel, his cock bobbing between his legs.
	"Mmmmmm, thank-you," he sighed as she slid gently back into him.
Working her way back up to her former pace, she bucked her hips against his
ass behind him, and he heard her grunts and groans as he suspected the
harness was banging and rubbing against her clitoris and her mons.  He
smiled with satisfaction at the thought that not only was she pleasing him,
but she was taking pleasure from fucking him.  That made him feel... oddly
at peace, and he thrust himself more wildly back at her, "Yes, fuck me,
sweetheart!  Fuck your slut!"
	She laughed good-naturedly, giving him a slap on one of his
ass-cheeks, "Yeah, you are my slut," and she gave him a harder, faster pace
to buck against.  Still, he kept his grip on his ankles secure, and he
groaned and wailed as his body thrashed.  "You're my big slut," she
repeated, "and I love fucking you!  Mmmmmm, yeah, oh, yeah!"  Again and
again she pounded his ass, and eternally he praised her, blessed her name,
and cried out in bliss.  Finally her fingers slid down from his left hip
and encircled his prick; she began jerking on his stick even as she fucked
his tight ass.
	That was it--he came in spurts, thick white ropes that gobbed onto
the hardwood floor and glistened in the lamplight.  With each thrust of the
dildo against his prostate, another jet of cum sprayed out of his throbbing
cock, and he arched his back, pressing his ass back against the giant
within him that gave him such joy.  "GOD, YESSSSSS!!!" he screamed, and
went limp, barely having the strength to keep hold as she had ordered him
to do.  But he did it.  She'd fucked him, and he'd cum, and he wouldn't be
punished.
	Still, she continued, fucking him harder, faster, and as he heard
her gasps rise in pitch and close in frequency with one another, he
gathered that she was working towards her own orgasm.  He would help her.
Bucking back against the love of his life, he bent his body down as far as
he could and arched his ass up as he fucked back at her, mashing the
harness against her crotch.  Her whimpers and cries soon followed, and her
nails dug painfully into his hips and sides.  Still it was worth it as he
felt her shuddering behind him, the dildo pressed deep in his bowels, and
especially as he heard her blissful shrieks.  "FUCK, YES!  I'M FUCKING
YOU!!!" she howled, letting anyone nearby their house in on their activity
with her declaration.
	Finally, both of them came down from their mutual high, and their
bodies' shaking slowed, but did not stop, fatigue now responsible for the
spastic movement of their limbs.  Slowly he felt her withdraw the dildo
from his ass, felt her hands slide up his sides, to his underarms, tugging
on him, "It's okay," she encouraged, pulling again.  He eventually got the
message and let go of his legs, which had gone numb during the experience,
and she rose him to standing on his shaking legs.  Feeling her wrap her
arms around him, her prick dangling between both their pair of legs,
tickling his scrotum, he slid his arms in turn up and down her thighs with
a low sigh of gratification.
	"Mmmmmmm, I love you, dearheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
	"I know," came her whispered reply as she turned him around, "and I
love you, too."  Her mouth pressed against his, opening, her tongue
pressing inside.  He responded with ardor, matching her passion, holding
her tightly to him.  They stood that way for several moments, each of them
with a cock--hers eternally hard, his now flaccid and glistening with cum,
a few drops of which were dripping onto the floor--their arms roving over
one another, their mouths and tongues hot and darting back and forth,
hungry.
	Eventually he pulled back with a crooked grin, "This is gonna be a
hideous miss to clean up."  She laughed and smiled back at him, kissing him
and pulling him again into her arms.  "Mmmmm," he sighed, brushing his
fingers through her silky hair, pressing himself against her pert breasts,
those sweet nipples hard as rocks and rubbing against his firm pectoral
muscles.  "I guess it can wait till tomorrow," he sighed, his hands roaming
down to her firm, high ass, squeezing with affection.
	"Yeah," she smiled, unbuckling the harness.  He reached around to
help her, and the strap-on cock quickly fell to the floor, lifeless again.
They both looked down at the object, and she was the one to break the
silence: "You know, that's only a toy.  It will never replace you, baby."
	"I know," he purred, lightly touselling her hair.  "I wasn't afraid
for a moment of that.  Of course, if you want to use it on me again
sometime..."
	She laughed and lead him back to their bedroom, shutting off the
light in the family room, leaving the strap-on and the mess behind, for
later consideration.  "Sure, baby, sure.  Maybe next time, when you're not
even expecting it...."  He felt a thrill run through him as she left those
words hanging in the air, and he reached down to squeeze her ass.  The two
of them collapsed into bed, kissing and falling asleep in each other's
arms.


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