On our third date he admitted he had a fetish. He liked it rough. He liked to choke his bottom as he
On our third date he admitted he had a fetish. He liked it rough. He liked to choke his bottom as he fucked him; he liked spanking him until he cried; he wanted to slap his face and pull his hair. “Like, every time you want that?”“No,” he had clarified hastily. “Not every time. But sometimes.”He wasn’t lying. I told him I would try it how he liked it. He agreed on a safe word and then he fucked me like I’d never been fucked before. He broke me down until I was crying and screaming and moaning for more all at once. At the end I was left exhausted and panting in his arms.“I’m going to want to do this again,” he told me, looking down at me with an expression on his face that looked a lot like love. He stroked my hair. “Same way. Maybe worse.”He caressed my neck as he awaited my response. I wanted him to kiss me. I was too worn out to think. “Whatever you want,” I said softly. “God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, smiling and pulling me closer. -- source link