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An Origin Story


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This excerpt marks the beginning of my book, a deeply personal narrative chronicling my life's journey and my quest to understand the intricate facets of my kinks and self-identity. This writing serves as a reflective passage, allowing me to revisit each memory in detail, to scrutinize the emotions they stirred within me, whether they were perceived as right or wrong. More importantly, it's a journey to rediscover the kinks I have long missed and to set myself on a path towards true happiness. This particular chapter delves into themes of dominance, control, and voyeurism, aspects I've always felt comfortable with. However, it also ventures into the realms of sadism, a fascination that has always intrigued me but remained largely unexplored. I hope you find this journey as enlightening as I do, and I warmly welcome any feedback.
The moment I laid eyes on Tommy and Pam, bobbing on their boat, it hit me. Tommy's manhood, a mirror to my own. A light bulb moment: I could play this game too. Young, reckless, brimming with misguided ambition, the gears in my mind turned, not yet understanding the full extent of the path I was about to tread.

Fast forward to this scene: A 23-year-old goddess sprawled naked across the sheets, my own nine-inch pride, taut and primed.

Her voice, a sultry query, "In front of the camera?"

Her camera. I don't even own a damn camera yet. No catchy alias then either.

“Hell yeah,” I shot back, my eagerness palpable.

Her lips graze the tip, her tongue taking charge. She's a knockout, all curves and angles in just the right places. Petite, making me look like a giant. Through the camcorder’s eye, it’s a piece of art unfolding.

"Put that down and fuck me," she commands, soaked.

She’s trying to steer this ship. I need to remind her who’s captain. 

"I'll fuck you when I'm ready,” I counter, commanding her tongue's appearance.

I'm all over her face with my cock, marking territory, using myself as a brush, ***ting her features in strokes of flesh and dominance. A beautiful sight. I spit in her mouth followed by a harsh entrance, our performance scripted by raw need. She struggles to take me in, her eyes watering, her throat working overtime, but she's into it, eyes locked on mine.

I taunt her, "You want this, don't you?" Her muffled response needs clarity.

"Say it," I demand, pulling back, watching her heave for breath.

Air, tears, a gasped confession to the lens, "I want your cock in my pussy."

Power surges through me, insatiable.

But then another command and she defies me. A simple line, her resistance, added an unforeseen layer to our dynamic.

There's a game here, a push and pull I didn't see coming. "Then keep sucking," I snap, a mix of frustration and thrill.

It's a razor's edge, the tension of going too far, but she's still there, still playing my game. I'm testing her, pushing boundaries, wondering just how far I can go.

As I ponder, she gags, a struggle for breath. I relent, then probe again, "Say it."

"No," her stubborn retort.

It's a dance of power, a test of wills. Her beauty was undeniable, yet here I was, inexplicably pulling on my pants, ready to walk out.

“What are you doing?” she questions with confusion as she employed her toes to hand me my shirt. Even her feet had a certain allure.

“I guess I'm done,” I reply, baffled by my own actions.

Her plea for my return, that ludicrous phrase coming from her lips, ignites something within me. She could easily replace me with anyone in Miami. Yet, she chooses to plead, to submit.

I'm back in action, seizing her ankle, she spirals, a human gyroscope, crashing on all fours. Her breasts, though a masterpiece, are nothing compared to her ass. It's like an apple plucked from Eden, symmetry so perfect it's almost a crime.

My right hand ventures beneath, discovering her readiness, a slick promise. I seize her waist, and with one ferocious thrust, I'm engulfed. Her tightness clamps down, a serpent's embrace, while her ass meets my pelvis.

A soft moan escapes her, a whispered curse. I admire my pronounced vein, engorged and proud, reveling in the friction between her cheeks.

I withdraw slightly, tease with a partial reentry, a rhythm as ancient as the sea. With each withdrawal, her plea for more grows fervent. Her plea for more is answered by my hand's sharp descent on her right cheek, leaving a tantalizing imprint, a sound as addictive as a narcotic. 

"Fuck me, damn it," she cries.

Her demand is primal, urgent. Her demand for all of me is met with another slap, a command for vocal affirmation.

Her compliance is a growl, an ***istic affirmation. I oblige, varying my strokes, thumb delving into uncharted territory. Guiding her, a masterful puppeteer; forward, back, forward, back. The full length of me fills her, thumb embedded in her, a sensation shared.

"Yes," she gasps, "Just like that."

My left hand captures her hair, winding it around my wrist like a lasso. The right hand, liberated, delivers justice to her left cheek, then a celebratory strike to the right.

Her climax, unexpected, nearly tips me over the edge, but restraint prevails. I persist, each thrust a testament to her quivering response. As her peak subsides, my gaze catches the camera's unblinking eye, a silent witness to our unrestrained ritual. A sudden urge overtakes me. 

"Bark," I command.

"What?" she gasps, eyes wide.

"Bark!" I demand, louder, more urgent.

She fires back, a snarl in her voice, "No."

A warning slips from my lips, edged with a promise, "If you don't bark, I'm going to fuck you so hard."

Her defiance is a flame. "I'm not barking," she declares.

With a firm smack on her left cheek, I rein*** my command. "Bark, damn it."

Still, she resists. "No."

My hands grip her hips, guiding the rhythm, each thrust an escalation. The room fills with the sounds of flesh and defiance. Her body tenses, surrendering to another climax, but there's no pause, no mercy in our relentless pursuit.

Obscenities lace the air, her ecstasy a piercing scream.

Perched on the balls of my feet, I'm driving into her, doggy style, I'm reshaping her world, reshaping her. My first climax, a cataclysmic surge, stretches her to her brink. Her voice, a guttural, bestial "Woof," pierces the air.

Our climaxes interlock, a chaotic symphony of bliss. As she howls, her hand slams down, a validation to the intensity. "I can't take anymore," she breathes out, a string of submissive barks trailing her surrender.

I ease back, my strokes slowing. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, just... not so hard," she pleads.

Even as the intensity wanes, my arousal doesn't. I'm still hard, her body, a landscape of pleasure, continues its dance against mine. I check in, a momentary pause in the symphony of our bodies. "How are you doing?"

"My pussy is getting sore," she confesses.

"Let me finish," I respond, flipping her onto her back, her legs finding a home on my shoulders. Her breasts, her entirety, they're captivating. I'm lost in this moment, each stroke another step until I reach my final peak.

"Take that cock," I exhale in delight.

"Oh fuck, it's big," she moans beneath me.

My hands wander, exploring the contours of her neck, fantasizing about future kinks yet unexplored. As my climax builds, my vision blurs, the world narrows to this singular moment of release, and I collapse. Time becomes a blur, maybe we slept, maybe not.

Eventually, she breaks the silence. "My pussy hurts," she declares.

"Good," I reply, a grin playing on my lips.

"You can be an asshole," she retorts, but her words are tinged with affection, "but fuck, I love your cock."

That day wasn't about making porn, it was a calling card to others. A 57-minute manifesto, my email a watermark of invitation into my world of unbridled carnality.
Give us more to read! I enjoyed it!
I'm glad you liked it, just posted a new post and I have another pending!
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