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Description
Please read the description…. your 🍆 pics are only a topic of discussion because we discuss “ why does it bend that way” “is it supposed to look like that?” 😂
My Dom doesn’t play well with others or like to share, so no you cant fuck 😂
We’re both avid gamers and love diving into horror movies together.
He’s an amateur writer who enjoys crafting stories.
I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen.
We both enjoy making friends from all over the world.
Limits
no bathroom stuff or ***
Our roles
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A new poem by ~Killer
Leather Devotion
She kneels in shadows thick with need,
wrists bound tight in ***-red rope.
Her eyes burn wild with hungry greed,
a willing slave to lust and hope.
The belt slides free from loops with greed,
leather hungry for tender flesh.
It coils back, then strikes with s***d,
cracking hard Read more…across her offered ass.
Each brutal swing blooms angry red,
a savage rhythm carved in skin.
She gasps and writhes, her juices spread,
dripping wet from every stinging sin.
Heat surges where the leather bites,
a thousand flames that lick her deep.
She moans like a whore beneath the lights,
clenching tight as pleasure starts to creep.
Then silence falls. The belt grows still.
I wrap it slow around her throat,
a collar hot from every thrill,
a leash of ownership and ***.
It pulls just tight enough to claim,
to feel her frantic pulse beneath.
Her breath turns ragged in the game,
submission flooding every breath.
Bound and marked and collared tight,
she drowns in *** that turns to fire.
Her cunt throbs slick with shameless delight,
lost in the storm of dark desire.
The belt remains, both whip and chain,
a circle sealed in heated sin.
She is mine in every mark of ***,
and I am hers where lust drinks in.
She kneels in shadows thick with need,
wrists bound tight in ***-red rope.
Her eyes burn wild with hungry greed,
a willing slave to lust and hope.
The belt slides free from loops with greed,
leather hungry for tender flesh.
It coils back, then strikes with s***d,
cracking hard Read more…across her offered ass.
Each brutal swing blooms angry red,
a savage rhythm carved in skin.
She gasps and writhes, her juices spread,
dripping wet from every stinging sin.
Heat surges where the leather bites,
a thousand flames that lick her deep.
She moans like a whore beneath the lights,
clenching tight as pleasure starts to creep.
Then silence falls. The belt grows still.
I wrap it slow around her throat,
a collar hot from every thrill,
a leash of ownership and ***.
It pulls just tight enough to claim,
to feel her frantic pulse beneath.
Her breath turns ragged in the game,
submission flooding every breath.
Bound and marked and collared tight,
she drowns in *** that turns to fire.
Her cunt throbs slick with shameless delight,
lost in the storm of dark desire.
The belt remains, both whip and chain,
a circle sealed in heated sin.
She is mine in every mark of ***,
and I am hers where lust drinks in.
Likehull48719, bloomington36720, DTFAZand 69 more…
A poem, of sorts~ by Killer
“The feast of Shadows”
i am the shadow that drinks where light dares not linger
a hunger carved from silence older than bone
your pulse arrives before your voice
a low molten tide rising beneath skin
each shallow breath a confession
you never meant to speak aloud
i kneel at the altar of your Read more…unrest
not to worship
but to feed
when the first tremor betrays you
that secret clench that involuntary arc
i open my mouth to the current it releases
a shimmering vein of raw want
spilling into the dark between us
your desire is not gentle fuel
it is lightning bottled in flesh
a storm begging to be swallowed
i draw it down
slow deliberate
like a serpent drinking heat from the
sun warmed stone
every shudder every bitten plea
every slick involuntary plea for more
becomes the marrow in my veins
you crest and i feast
the bright blinding spike of your climax
floods my chest like stolen starfire
searing sweet forbidden
i taste the color of your breaking
crimson gold violent violet
and for one suspended heartbeat
i am more alive than any mortal should be
you fall back spent glistening
a chalice emptied
yet still your body hums the aftersong
a faint delicious echo
that drifts toward me like smoke
i breathe it in
i keep it
your urges once yours alone
now burn quietly inside my ribs
my secret second heart
and when the next moon pulls you under
when the ache returns to haunt your thighs
i will be waiting
mouth open
eternally ravenous
to drink again
the lightning only you can make
i am the shadow that drinks where light dares not linger
a hunger carved from silence older than bone
your pulse arrives before your voice
a low molten tide rising beneath skin
each shallow breath a confession
you never meant to speak aloud
i kneel at the altar of your Read more…unrest
not to worship
but to feed
when the first tremor betrays you
that secret clench that involuntary arc
i open my mouth to the current it releases
a shimmering vein of raw want
spilling into the dark between us
your desire is not gentle fuel
it is lightning bottled in flesh
a storm begging to be swallowed
i draw it down
slow deliberate
like a serpent drinking heat from the
sun warmed stone
every shudder every bitten plea
every slick involuntary plea for more
becomes the marrow in my veins
you crest and i feast
the bright blinding spike of your climax
floods my chest like stolen starfire
searing sweet forbidden
i taste the color of your breaking
crimson gold violent violet
and for one suspended heartbeat
i am more alive than any mortal should be
you fall back spent glistening
a chalice emptied
yet still your body hums the aftersong
a faint delicious echo
that drifts toward me like smoke
i breathe it in
i keep it
your urges once yours alone
now burn quietly inside my ribs
my secret second heart
and when the next moon pulls you under
when the ache returns to haunt your thighs
i will be waiting
mouth open
eternally ravenous
to drink again
the lightning only you can make
Typortland87 Damn….. That’s deep. 🫶🫶🫶 Damn….. That’s deep. 🫶🫶🫶
LikeScreamqueenNkiller
· 14.03.2026 22:00:40
Bigjman25 Deep words and a wonderful sexual night I'm not a poem guy but I kept reading this one Deep words and a wonderful sexual night I'm not a poem guy but I kept reading this one
LikeScreamqueenNkiller
· 14.03.2026 10:11:00
Another short by Killer~ Dangerous game
Not published, I want to publish something one day, but haven’t tried to write anything longer than shorts as of now. Thank you for the encouragement!
Another short by Killer~ Dangerous game
Haven’t read anything in awhile, used to read fantasy and sci-fi novels. I liked Tad Williams, R.A. Salvatore, John Scalzi were a few of my favorite authors. My writing is just from stream of consciousness then tighten up the story from there.
Another short by Killer~ Dangerous game
The moon hung low over the black pines, spilling thin silver across the lake’s glassy surface. Two young women in their early twenties, lithe and sun kissed from days spent half wild in the woods, had slipped into the water naked an hour earlier. They laughed softly as their clothes lay abandoned Read more…on the pebbled shore. Their bodies moved with easy confidence, full breasts lifting and falling with each breath, hips swaying as they waded deeper, droplets tracing slow, glistening paths down the curves of waist and thigh.
They never saw the shape waiting among the trees.
Broad shouldered and silent, he stood motionless until their bare feet finally found the bank again. Only then did he step forward, one deliberate stride into the moonlight. His hockey mask caught the pale glow like bone. The women froze for half a heartbeat. Then instinct took them.
They ran.
Bare soles slapped against pine needles and root tangled earth. Breaths came sharp and ragged. Breasts bounced with every frantic stride. Damp hair whipped across flushed shoulders. Behind them the heavy, even footfalls never quickened, never faltered. He didn’t need to sprint. The forest was his.
The first girl, dark haired and the one with the fuller figure, tripped on a hidden root and went down hard. Before she could scramble up he was there. One massive hand closed around her wrist, iron and unhurried. She screamed once, high and wild. He spun her, pulled her against his chest just long enough for her to feel the heat radiating through his shirt, the hard planes of muscle beneath. Then he dragged her backward through the underbrush. Her heels skidded. Bare breasts heaved with panicked breaths.
He had already found the second girl minutes earlier.
Blonde and smaller breasted but no less curved, she had been trying to circle back toward the tent when he stepped out from behind an oak. She bolted. He simply reached out, caught the hem of her soaked shirt, and tore it open in one brutal yank. Buttons popped like gunfire. Cool night air kissed suddenly bare skin. Pale nipples tightened instantly. He bound her wrists behind the nearest trunk with a length of coarse rope from his belt, leaving her arched and trembling. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, *** rhythm while she watched the darkness for her girlfriend.
Now he hauled the dark haired one into the small clearing beside their tent. The blonde whimpered at the sight of them… her lover’s wrist still locked in his grip, shirt hanging in tatters, skin streaked with dirt and lake water, nipples peaked from cold and *** and something darker she refused to name.
He shoved them both through the unzipped flap.
They collided inside the cramped nylon space, bodies pressing together instinctively. Soft breasts crushed against softer breasts. Thighs tangled. Arms wrapped tight in a desperate, shaking embrace. Their breathing filled the tent: quick, shallow, almost synchronized. Sweat and lake water mingled. Nipples brushed with every tremor. Outside, the shadow in the hockey mask crouched at the entrance, blocking moonlight, blocking escape.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
The air inside the tent thickened with the scent of pine, wet skin, and raw, electric terror, and beneath it all, something warmer, something slick and undeniable, blooming low in their bellies despite everything.
They clung harder.
He watched.
And waited.
The tension inside the tent snapped like a taut bowstring.
What had begun as raw terror melted under the heat of their shared adrenaline, the pounding of hearts shifting from *** to something fiercer, hungrier. The dark haired woman moved first. Her lips crashed against the blonde’s in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. Tongues met, slick and urgent. Hands roamed, fingers digging into soft hips, palms cupping heavy breasts, thumbs circling stiff nipples until both women moaned into each other’s mouths. Their bodies pressed tighter, sweat slick skin sliding together, thighs parting instinctively as arousal bloomed hot and undeniable between them.
Outside the unzipped flap, he watched the shift happen. The moment their *** turned liquid and wanting, he knew it was time.
He ducked inside, broad frame filling the entrance and blocking the last sliver of moonlight. The hockey mask stayed on, white and impassive, but the rest came off in deliberate pieces. Shirt tugged over his head and discarded. Boots kicked aside. Pants shoved down and stepped out of. Naked now except for the mask, his body was carved muscle under tanned skin, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, thick arms corded with strength, powerful hands flexing at his sides. His cock stood rigid, thick and flushed, veins prominent along the shaft, the head already glistening.
The women broke their kiss just long enough to look up at him. Breaths ragged. Chests heaving. Eyes wide, not with *** anymore, but dark, glittering want.
The blonde reached out first. Her fingers trembled only a little as they wrapped around his length. She stroked once, slow and exploratory, feeling the heat, the velvet hardness, the way he throbbed against her palm. A low sound rumbled behind the mask. He stepped closer.
The dark haired woman slid behind her girlfriend, pressing kisses along the blonde’s neck and shoulder while her hands cupped and lifted the smaller breasts, offering them up. The blonde leaned back into the embrace, still stroking him, her other hand reaching to pull him down.
He sank to his knees between them.
What followed was slow at first, almost reverent. Hands and mouths learning new territory. He kissed the dark haired woman deeply while the blonde guided his cock to rub along her slick folds. Then he turned, claiming the blonde’s mouth in a bruising kiss as the other woman knelt and took him between her lips, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. They traded him back and forth like a shared secret: one sucking while the other kissed his throat, his chest, his abdomen; fingers sliding inside wet heat, curling, stroking, coaxing gasps and whimpers.
Soon the tent was filled with the wet sounds of mouths and fingers and bodies moving together. He lifted the blonde onto his lap, guiding her down until he filled her completely, slow, inch by thick inch, while the dark haired woman straddled his thigh, grinding against the hard muscle, her clit dragging with every roll of her hips. They moved in rhythm…the blonde riding him deep and steady, breasts bouncing, head thrown back; the other woman rocking faster, fingers tangled in his hair (still hidden beneath the mask), mouth on the blonde’s nipple.
He thrust up harder, hands gripping hips, controlling the pace until both women were trembling on the edge. The dark haired one came first, sharp cry muffled against the blonde’s shoulder, inner walls pulsing around nothing as she shuddered through it. That tipped the blonde over…she clenched around him, nails raking his shoulders, a broken moan tearing from her throat. He followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through the mask.
They collapsed together in a sweaty, trembling heap…limbs tangled, breaths mingling, hearts still racing but now from release instead of terror.
After a long minute of soft aftershocks and gentle kisses, he reached up.
Fingers hooked under the edge of the hockey mask.
He pulled it off.
Short cropped dark hair, familiar hazel eyes, the crooked smile the blonde knew better than her own reflection.
Her boyfriend.
The tent went still for one stunned heartbeat.
Then the blonde burst out laughing, bright, breathless, delighted. She swatted his chest.
“You absolute asshole,” she gasped between giggles. “I knew it was you the second you tore my shirt. The way you yank things, it’s always so dramatic.”
The dark haired woman blinked, then started laughing too, head dropping to his shoulder. “Oh my god. We actually pulled it off.”
He grinned, sheepish and smug at once. “Told you the mask would sell it. You two were so convincing I almost felt bad.”
“Almost,” the blonde echoed, still laughing as she leaned in to kiss him properly, no mask, no pretense, just them.
The dark haired woman snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. “Best camping trip ever.”
They dissolved into quiet laughter again, bodies still pressed close, the night outside the tent suddenly feeling warm instead of threatening.
Just three people who’d played a very dangerous, very perfect game, and won.
They never saw the shape waiting among the trees.
Broad shouldered and silent, he stood motionless until their bare feet finally found the bank again. Only then did he step forward, one deliberate stride into the moonlight. His hockey mask caught the pale glow like bone. The women froze for half a heartbeat. Then instinct took them.
They ran.
Bare soles slapped against pine needles and root tangled earth. Breaths came sharp and ragged. Breasts bounced with every frantic stride. Damp hair whipped across flushed shoulders. Behind them the heavy, even footfalls never quickened, never faltered. He didn’t need to sprint. The forest was his.
The first girl, dark haired and the one with the fuller figure, tripped on a hidden root and went down hard. Before she could scramble up he was there. One massive hand closed around her wrist, iron and unhurried. She screamed once, high and wild. He spun her, pulled her against his chest just long enough for her to feel the heat radiating through his shirt, the hard planes of muscle beneath. Then he dragged her backward through the underbrush. Her heels skidded. Bare breasts heaved with panicked breaths.
He had already found the second girl minutes earlier.
Blonde and smaller breasted but no less curved, she had been trying to circle back toward the tent when he stepped out from behind an oak. She bolted. He simply reached out, caught the hem of her soaked shirt, and tore it open in one brutal yank. Buttons popped like gunfire. Cool night air kissed suddenly bare skin. Pale nipples tightened instantly. He bound her wrists behind the nearest trunk with a length of coarse rope from his belt, leaving her arched and trembling. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, *** rhythm while she watched the darkness for her girlfriend.
Now he hauled the dark haired one into the small clearing beside their tent. The blonde whimpered at the sight of them… her lover’s wrist still locked in his grip, shirt hanging in tatters, skin streaked with dirt and lake water, nipples peaked from cold and *** and something darker she refused to name.
He shoved them both through the unzipped flap.
They collided inside the cramped nylon space, bodies pressing together instinctively. Soft breasts crushed against softer breasts. Thighs tangled. Arms wrapped tight in a desperate, shaking embrace. Their breathing filled the tent: quick, shallow, almost synchronized. Sweat and lake water mingled. Nipples brushed with every tremor. Outside, the shadow in the hockey mask crouched at the entrance, blocking moonlight, blocking escape.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
The air inside the tent thickened with the scent of pine, wet skin, and raw, electric terror, and beneath it all, something warmer, something slick and undeniable, blooming low in their bellies despite everything.
They clung harder.
He watched.
And waited.
The tension inside the tent snapped like a taut bowstring.
What had begun as raw terror melted under the heat of their shared adrenaline, the pounding of hearts shifting from *** to something fiercer, hungrier. The dark haired woman moved first. Her lips crashed against the blonde’s in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. Tongues met, slick and urgent. Hands roamed, fingers digging into soft hips, palms cupping heavy breasts, thumbs circling stiff nipples until both women moaned into each other’s mouths. Their bodies pressed tighter, sweat slick skin sliding together, thighs parting instinctively as arousal bloomed hot and undeniable between them.
Outside the unzipped flap, he watched the shift happen. The moment their *** turned liquid and wanting, he knew it was time.
He ducked inside, broad frame filling the entrance and blocking the last sliver of moonlight. The hockey mask stayed on, white and impassive, but the rest came off in deliberate pieces. Shirt tugged over his head and discarded. Boots kicked aside. Pants shoved down and stepped out of. Naked now except for the mask, his body was carved muscle under tanned skin, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, thick arms corded with strength, powerful hands flexing at his sides. His cock stood rigid, thick and flushed, veins prominent along the shaft, the head already glistening.
The women broke their kiss just long enough to look up at him. Breaths ragged. Chests heaving. Eyes wide, not with *** anymore, but dark, glittering want.
The blonde reached out first. Her fingers trembled only a little as they wrapped around his length. She stroked once, slow and exploratory, feeling the heat, the velvet hardness, the way he throbbed against her palm. A low sound rumbled behind the mask. He stepped closer.
The dark haired woman slid behind her girlfriend, pressing kisses along the blonde’s neck and shoulder while her hands cupped and lifted the smaller breasts, offering them up. The blonde leaned back into the embrace, still stroking him, her other hand reaching to pull him down.
He sank to his knees between them.
What followed was slow at first, almost reverent. Hands and mouths learning new territory. He kissed the dark haired woman deeply while the blonde guided his cock to rub along her slick folds. Then he turned, claiming the blonde’s mouth in a bruising kiss as the other woman knelt and took him between her lips, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. They traded him back and forth like a shared secret: one sucking while the other kissed his throat, his chest, his abdomen; fingers sliding inside wet heat, curling, stroking, coaxing gasps and whimpers.
Soon the tent was filled with the wet sounds of mouths and fingers and bodies moving together. He lifted the blonde onto his lap, guiding her down until he filled her completely, slow, inch by thick inch, while the dark haired woman straddled his thigh, grinding against the hard muscle, her clit dragging with every roll of her hips. They moved in rhythm…the blonde riding him deep and steady, breasts bouncing, head thrown back; the other woman rocking faster, fingers tangled in his hair (still hidden beneath the mask), mouth on the blonde’s nipple.
He thrust up harder, hands gripping hips, controlling the pace until both women were trembling on the edge. The dark haired one came first, sharp cry muffled against the blonde’s shoulder, inner walls pulsing around nothing as she shuddered through it. That tipped the blonde over…she clenched around him, nails raking his shoulders, a broken moan tearing from her throat. He followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through the mask.
They collapsed together in a sweaty, trembling heap…limbs tangled, breaths mingling, hearts still racing but now from release instead of terror.
After a long minute of soft aftershocks and gentle kisses, he reached up.
Fingers hooked under the edge of the hockey mask.
He pulled it off.
Short cropped dark hair, familiar hazel eyes, the crooked smile the blonde knew better than her own reflection.
Her boyfriend.
The tent went still for one stunned heartbeat.
Then the blonde burst out laughing, bright, breathless, delighted. She swatted his chest.
“You absolute asshole,” she gasped between giggles. “I knew it was you the second you tore my shirt. The way you yank things, it’s always so dramatic.”
The dark haired woman blinked, then started laughing too, head dropping to his shoulder. “Oh my god. We actually pulled it off.”
He grinned, sheepish and smug at once. “Told you the mask would sell it. You two were so convincing I almost felt bad.”
“Almost,” the blonde echoed, still laughing as she leaned in to kiss him properly, no mask, no pretense, just them.
The dark haired woman snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. “Best camping trip ever.”
They dissolved into quiet laughter again, bodies still pressed close, the night outside the tent suddenly feeling warm instead of threatening.
Just three people who’d played a very dangerous, very perfect game, and won.
BrattyPrincess4045 That was hot ❤️ That was hot ❤️
LikeScreamqueenNkiller
· 06.03.2026 8:12:03
ScreamqueenNkiller Not published, I want to publish something one day, but haven’t tried to write anything longer than shorts as of now. Thank you for the encouragement! Not published, I want to publish something one day, but haven’t tried to write anything longer than shorts as of now. Thank you for the encouragement!
Like
· 05.03.2026 6:18:54
NexumSange ➦NexumSange quote ScreamqueenNkiller:❝ Haven’t read anything in awhile, used to read fantasy and sci-fi novels. I liked Tad Williams, R.A. Salvatore, John Scalzi were a few of my favorite authors. My writing is just from stream of consciousness then tighten up the story from there.
Read more… ❞
Thank You for answering, sharing. I don't read the stories or smut posted here, but I caught a couple of snippets of Your stuff and your prose is rather appealing and not the run-of-the-mill sex ramblings - No offence to anyone/anyone's writings!! Pondered if perhaps you were published/wanted to publish any works. You *seem* like a writer. 😉 Thanks again.
Read more… ❞
Thank You for answering, sharing. I don't read the stories or smut posted here, but I caught a couple of snippets of Your stuff and your prose is rather appealing and not the run-of-the-mill sex ramblings - No offence to anyone/anyone's writings!! Pondered if perhaps you were published/wanted to publish any works. You *seem* like a writer. 😉 Thanks again.
LikeScreamqueenNkiller
05.03.2026 6:12:10
Show more
3 of 5
Please read the description…. your 🍆 pics are only a topic of discussion because we discuss “ why does it bend that way” “is it supposed to look like that?” 😂
My Dom doesn’t play well with others or like to share, so no you cant fuck 😂
We’re both avid gamers and love diving into horror movies Read more… together.
He’s an amateur writer who enjoys crafting stories.
I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen.
We both enjoy making friends from all over the world.
My Dom doesn’t play well with others or like to share, so no you cant fuck 😂
We’re both avid gamers and love diving into horror movies Read more… together.
He’s an amateur writer who enjoys crafting stories.
I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen.
We both enjoy making friends from all over the world.
A killer in the house~ another short by Killer
He moved through the darkened house with deliberate, heavy steps. The hockey mask restricted his peripheral vision and turned every shadow into a threat. Ahead of him, she darted just out of reach: bare feet whispering against hardwood, her breathing sharp and quick. He could hear the tremor in Read more…each exhale, the way she tried to muffle it. The mask had seemed like a fun idea earlier. Now it felt suffocating, the plastic warm against his skin.
She rounded the corner at the end of the hallway. He lunged.
His gloved hand closed around the slender column of her throat, not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to lift her clean off the floor. Her back arched instinctively. Her hands flew up to grip his forearm, fingers digging in as she took some of her own weight. Beneath his palm he felt the rapid thud of her pulse, frantic at first, then slowing… steadying.
A strange thought flickered through his mind.
Is she actually turned on right now?
Still holding her suspended, he shifted his grip to one hand and used the other to yank her leggings down in a single rough pull. The thin fabric tore at the seams. No panties underneath, just smooth, freshly shaved skin already slick and swollen with arousal. The sight made his breath catch behind the mask.
He ripped one glove off with his teeth, the latex snapping, and slid his bare hand between her thighs. Heat radiated against his fingers. One thick digit traced her slit, parting her, then pressed inside. She was soaked. A low, involuntary moan slipped from her lips, half sob, half plea.
He tilted his head, studying her through the mask’s narrow eye holes. The wide-eyed terror that had been there seconds ago had melted into something else entirely: parted lips, heavy-lidded gaze, the tiniest upward curve at the corners of her mouth.
Ecstasy.
He lowered her slowly until her toes brushed the floor again, then guided her down with steady pressure on her shoulder until she sank to her knees in front of him. His free hand moved to the zipper of his coveralls. The sound of it descending filled the quiet hallway. He shrugged the fabric open just enough: hard planes of chest and abdomen exposed, then lower still.
His cock sprang free, thick and rigid, already leaking at the tip.
Her eyes widened. One small hand reached up, fingers tentative at first, then wrapping around him. She couldn’t quite close her grip; her thumb and fingers didn’t meet. A soft, astonished sound escaped her as she stared.
Then she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
He groaned behind the mask, hips rocking once, shallowly, letting her set the rhythm. Her tongue swirled, lips stretched wide, cheeks hollowing. One of her hands braced on his thigh while the other stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach. Wet, obscene sounds echoed in the narrow space.
After a minute he threaded his fingers into her hair, not pulling, just holding, and drew her off him with a slick pop. Her lips were swollen, glistening. She looked up at him, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.
He hauled her to her feet, spun her, and pressed her chest to the wall. She braced both hands against the plaster. He kicked her feet wider apart, notched himself at her entrance, and pushed in one long, slow stroke.
She gasped, high and sharp, then melted backward against him as he bottomed out. So tight, so wet, so ready. He stayed buried for a heartbeat, letting her adjust, feeling her inner walls flutter and grip.
Then he started to move.
Deep, measured thrusts rocked her up onto her toes. Each time he drove in she made a broken little sound: pleasure, surrender, need. His hand slid around to her clit, rubbing tight circles while he fucked her harder, faster. The wet slap of skin on skin replaced every other sound in the house.
Her breathing turned ragged. “Please… fuck… don’t stop…”
He didn’t.
When she came it was sudden and violent: back arching, thighs shaking, a keening cry muffled against her own arm. He followed seconds later, grinding deep and spilling inside her with a low, guttural groan that vibrated against the back of her neck through the mask.
They stayed locked together for long moments, panting.
Then he reached up, hooked his fingers under the edge of the hockey mask, and pulled it off.
Sweaty dark hair fell across his forehead. He grinned down at her, boyish and sheepish.
“Still think the mask was a bad call?” he asked, voice rough from exertion.
She laughed, breathless, giddy, turning in his arms to wrap hers around his neck.
“You almost had me convinced you were actually gonna *** me this time,” she teased, nipping at his jaw. “Ten out of ten for commitment. But next time… maybe lose the coveralls. They’re hell to get off in a hurry.”
He kissed her slow and deep, tasting salt and herself on her tongue.
“Deal,” he murmured against her lips. “But only if you keep wearing those leggings. Ripping them is half the fun.”
She smiled against his mouth, already reaching down to tug his zipper the rest of the way closed.
“Next weekend,” she promised. “Same time. Same house. And maybe… I’ll run a little slower.”
She rounded the corner at the end of the hallway. He lunged.
His gloved hand closed around the slender column of her throat, not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to lift her clean off the floor. Her back arched instinctively. Her hands flew up to grip his forearm, fingers digging in as she took some of her own weight. Beneath his palm he felt the rapid thud of her pulse, frantic at first, then slowing… steadying.
A strange thought flickered through his mind.
Is she actually turned on right now?
Still holding her suspended, he shifted his grip to one hand and used the other to yank her leggings down in a single rough pull. The thin fabric tore at the seams. No panties underneath, just smooth, freshly shaved skin already slick and swollen with arousal. The sight made his breath catch behind the mask.
He ripped one glove off with his teeth, the latex snapping, and slid his bare hand between her thighs. Heat radiated against his fingers. One thick digit traced her slit, parting her, then pressed inside. She was soaked. A low, involuntary moan slipped from her lips, half sob, half plea.
He tilted his head, studying her through the mask’s narrow eye holes. The wide-eyed terror that had been there seconds ago had melted into something else entirely: parted lips, heavy-lidded gaze, the tiniest upward curve at the corners of her mouth.
Ecstasy.
He lowered her slowly until her toes brushed the floor again, then guided her down with steady pressure on her shoulder until she sank to her knees in front of him. His free hand moved to the zipper of his coveralls. The sound of it descending filled the quiet hallway. He shrugged the fabric open just enough: hard planes of chest and abdomen exposed, then lower still.
His cock sprang free, thick and rigid, already leaking at the tip.
Her eyes widened. One small hand reached up, fingers tentative at first, then wrapping around him. She couldn’t quite close her grip; her thumb and fingers didn’t meet. A soft, astonished sound escaped her as she stared.
Then she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
He groaned behind the mask, hips rocking once, shallowly, letting her set the rhythm. Her tongue swirled, lips stretched wide, cheeks hollowing. One of her hands braced on his thigh while the other stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach. Wet, obscene sounds echoed in the narrow space.
After a minute he threaded his fingers into her hair, not pulling, just holding, and drew her off him with a slick pop. Her lips were swollen, glistening. She looked up at him, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.
He hauled her to her feet, spun her, and pressed her chest to the wall. She braced both hands against the plaster. He kicked her feet wider apart, notched himself at her entrance, and pushed in one long, slow stroke.
She gasped, high and sharp, then melted backward against him as he bottomed out. So tight, so wet, so ready. He stayed buried for a heartbeat, letting her adjust, feeling her inner walls flutter and grip.
Then he started to move.
Deep, measured thrusts rocked her up onto her toes. Each time he drove in she made a broken little sound: pleasure, surrender, need. His hand slid around to her clit, rubbing tight circles while he fucked her harder, faster. The wet slap of skin on skin replaced every other sound in the house.
Her breathing turned ragged. “Please… fuck… don’t stop…”
He didn’t.
When she came it was sudden and violent: back arching, thighs shaking, a keening cry muffled against her own arm. He followed seconds later, grinding deep and spilling inside her with a low, guttural groan that vibrated against the back of her neck through the mask.
They stayed locked together for long moments, panting.
Then he reached up, hooked his fingers under the edge of the hockey mask, and pulled it off.
Sweaty dark hair fell across his forehead. He grinned down at her, boyish and sheepish.
“Still think the mask was a bad call?” he asked, voice rough from exertion.
She laughed, breathless, giddy, turning in his arms to wrap hers around his neck.
“You almost had me convinced you were actually gonna *** me this time,” she teased, nipping at his jaw. “Ten out of ten for commitment. But next time… maybe lose the coveralls. They’re hell to get off in a hurry.”
He kissed her slow and deep, tasting salt and herself on her tongue.
“Deal,” he murmured against her lips. “But only if you keep wearing those leggings. Ripping them is half the fun.”
She smiled against his mouth, already reaching down to tug his zipper the rest of the way closed.
“Next weekend,” she promised. “Same time. Same house. And maybe… I’ll run a little slower.”
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A New short by Killer
I currently don’t have a title but please enjoy friends. 😊
She had known her friend for nearly eight years. College roommates turned long distance best friends who still texted almost daily. When her friend moved across the country last spring to be with her new boyfriend, the distance stung, but Read more…they promised to keep their traditions alive. Mardi Gras felt like the perfect excuse. Her friend would fly in, stay the whole weekend at her cozy New Orleans apartment, drink too many hurricanes, and relive their wilder days.
The visit exceeded every expectation. They laughed until their sides ached, danced in crowded bars, ate beignets at 3 a.m., and collapsed into easy, familiar comfort. By Sunday night, the last night, she was pleasantly buzzed and emotionally full. She excused herself early, claiming exhaustion, and slipped into her bedroom, leaving the couple on the living-room couch with the TV murmuring low.
She must have dozed off for a while. A soft thud and a muffled laugh pulled her awake. Then came the unmistakable rhythm: skin meeting skin, breath catching, a low feminine moan that she recognized instantly as her friend’s.
Curiosity (and something hotter, more unfamiliar) drew her out of bed. Barefoot, she padded down the short hallway and paused at the living-room doorway.
They hadn’t bothered with the bedroom. Her friend was stretched out on the plush rug, legs wrapped high around her boyfriend’s waist, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved above her with steady, deep thrusts, each one drawing a slick, needy sound from her body. Sweat glistened on both of them; her friend’s breasts swayed with the motion, nipples tight and dark. Her boyfriend’s thick cock (visibly stretching her open with every withdrawal and plunge) gleamed wetly in the lamplight. Her friend’s head tipped back, mouth open in silent ecstasy, hips rising to meet him like she couldn’t get enough.
She stood frozen. She had never once looked at her friend with desire, never imagined her like this: flushed, shameless, utterly lost in pleasure. Yet now the sight sent a sharp, liquid heat pooling low in her belly. Her clit throbbed in time with her friend’s gasps.
Instead of retreating, she stepped fully into the room. Neither of them noticed at first. Quietly, deliberately, she ***led off her sleep tank and shorts, letting them fall. Naked, skin prickling in the warm air, she crossed to the wide armchair in the corner, sank into it, and spread her thighs.
Only then did her friend’s eyes flutter open. She froze for half a heartbeat, pupils blown wide, lips parted. He slowed but didn’t stop, glancing over his shoulder. Recognition dawned, followed by something darker, hungrier.
She held her friend’s gaze and slid two fingers down to her swollen clit, circling slowly. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please.”
Her friend’s expression melted into a dazed, wicked smile. She tightened her legs around him and arched harder, voice husky. “You heard us… you’re watching.”
She nodded, breath hitching as she rubbed faster. “I couldn’t look away.”
He groaned low in his throat and picked up his pace again, driving deeper, making her cry out. The wet sounds of their bodies filled the room, obscene and intoxicating. She matched their rhythm, fingers slipping inside herself now, then back to her clit, slick and desperate. She watched every detail, the way her friend’s inner lips clung to his shaft, the flex of his ass with each thrust, the tremor that started in her friend’s thighs and worked upward.
Her friend reached down suddenly, rubbing her own clit in frantic circles while he fucked her harder. “Fuck, I’m close.”
Her own orgasm was building like a wave she couldn’t outrun. “Me too,” she gasped. “Come with me, both of you. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural sound, hips stuttering. Her friend’s back bowed off the rug, a broken moan tearing from her throat as her pussy clenched visibly around him, milking every pulse. At the same moment her fingers pressed hard against her clit and rubbed in tight, relentless circles—pleasure snapped through her like lightning. She came with a sharp, shuddering cry, thighs shaking, watching through half lidded eyes as he groaned and emptied deep inside her friend, their bodies locked together in the final throes.
For long seconds the only sounds were ragged breathing and the faint wet slide as he finally eased out, a thick trickle of cum following. Her friend lay boneless, chest heaving, a blissful smile curving her lips. She slumped back in the chair, fingers still resting against her pulsing clit, legs trembling.
No one spoke right away.
Then her friend lifted her head, met her eyes again, and laughed softly, delighted, conspiratorial.
“Next year,” she murmured, voice wrecked, “you’re not sleeping in the other room.”
She smiled, still catching her breath.
“Deal.”
She had known her friend for nearly eight years. College roommates turned long distance best friends who still texted almost daily. When her friend moved across the country last spring to be with her new boyfriend, the distance stung, but Read more…they promised to keep their traditions alive. Mardi Gras felt like the perfect excuse. Her friend would fly in, stay the whole weekend at her cozy New Orleans apartment, drink too many hurricanes, and relive their wilder days.
The visit exceeded every expectation. They laughed until their sides ached, danced in crowded bars, ate beignets at 3 a.m., and collapsed into easy, familiar comfort. By Sunday night, the last night, she was pleasantly buzzed and emotionally full. She excused herself early, claiming exhaustion, and slipped into her bedroom, leaving the couple on the living-room couch with the TV murmuring low.
She must have dozed off for a while. A soft thud and a muffled laugh pulled her awake. Then came the unmistakable rhythm: skin meeting skin, breath catching, a low feminine moan that she recognized instantly as her friend’s.
Curiosity (and something hotter, more unfamiliar) drew her out of bed. Barefoot, she padded down the short hallway and paused at the living-room doorway.
They hadn’t bothered with the bedroom. Her friend was stretched out on the plush rug, legs wrapped high around her boyfriend’s waist, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved above her with steady, deep thrusts, each one drawing a slick, needy sound from her body. Sweat glistened on both of them; her friend’s breasts swayed with the motion, nipples tight and dark. Her boyfriend’s thick cock (visibly stretching her open with every withdrawal and plunge) gleamed wetly in the lamplight. Her friend’s head tipped back, mouth open in silent ecstasy, hips rising to meet him like she couldn’t get enough.
She stood frozen. She had never once looked at her friend with desire, never imagined her like this: flushed, shameless, utterly lost in pleasure. Yet now the sight sent a sharp, liquid heat pooling low in her belly. Her clit throbbed in time with her friend’s gasps.
Instead of retreating, she stepped fully into the room. Neither of them noticed at first. Quietly, deliberately, she ***led off her sleep tank and shorts, letting them fall. Naked, skin prickling in the warm air, she crossed to the wide armchair in the corner, sank into it, and spread her thighs.
Only then did her friend’s eyes flutter open. She froze for half a heartbeat, pupils blown wide, lips parted. He slowed but didn’t stop, glancing over his shoulder. Recognition dawned, followed by something darker, hungrier.
She held her friend’s gaze and slid two fingers down to her swollen clit, circling slowly. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please.”
Her friend’s expression melted into a dazed, wicked smile. She tightened her legs around him and arched harder, voice husky. “You heard us… you’re watching.”
She nodded, breath hitching as she rubbed faster. “I couldn’t look away.”
He groaned low in his throat and picked up his pace again, driving deeper, making her cry out. The wet sounds of their bodies filled the room, obscene and intoxicating. She matched their rhythm, fingers slipping inside herself now, then back to her clit, slick and desperate. She watched every detail, the way her friend’s inner lips clung to his shaft, the flex of his ass with each thrust, the tremor that started in her friend’s thighs and worked upward.
Her friend reached down suddenly, rubbing her own clit in frantic circles while he fucked her harder. “Fuck, I’m close.”
Her own orgasm was building like a wave she couldn’t outrun. “Me too,” she gasped. “Come with me, both of you. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural sound, hips stuttering. Her friend’s back bowed off the rug, a broken moan tearing from her throat as her pussy clenched visibly around him, milking every pulse. At the same moment her fingers pressed hard against her clit and rubbed in tight, relentless circles—pleasure snapped through her like lightning. She came with a sharp, shuddering cry, thighs shaking, watching through half lidded eyes as he groaned and emptied deep inside her friend, their bodies locked together in the final throes.
For long seconds the only sounds were ragged breathing and the faint wet slide as he finally eased out, a thick trickle of cum following. Her friend lay boneless, chest heaving, a blissful smile curving her lips. She slumped back in the chair, fingers still resting against her pulsing clit, legs trembling.
No one spoke right away.
Then her friend lifted her head, met her eyes again, and laughed softly, delighted, conspiratorial.
“Next year,” she murmured, voice wrecked, “you’re not sleeping in the other room.”
She smiled, still catching her breath.
“Deal.”
Dom and sub views on period sex
Killer here- ba man, put down a towel and get in there. Anyone that eats ass shouldn’t be commenting “gross”. 😂. Hell, I’ll lick it and I’ll stick it . Idgaf , it’s gonna look like a crime was committed when I’m done.
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Vabbing and pheromones!!!
Never known anyone to try it. But it would make sense if ur looking for a genetically compatible mate. There is an experiment that was done back in the 90’s dubbed “the sweaty T-shirt experiment” that was shown that women were able to detect through pheromones genetically compatible potential mates Read more… that would have the best chances to produce healthy offspring. It would make sense if humans are able to detect pheromones it may help attract a potential sexual partner.
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