"The truth is rarely pure and never simple." - Sex Stories

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

... of opening and pouring. When he leaves us, we touch glasses, then lips and imbibe. Bottle finished, we go to dinner and drink a little more. Not for a single moment is my mind distracted from the absolute vision of loveliness I have in my company. You hold me completely captivated with your grace and eloquence. As we exit the building I remove my suit coat and drape it over your shoulders. You accept it gratefully and pull it around yourself, relishing the warmth transferred from my body to yours via the woollen garment. I don't have to endure the chilly night air for long, we are in a cab then back at my flat before I have a chance to notice it. **** When we arrive, I open the car door and offer my hand to help you from the back seat. My coat still hangs over your shoulders. I can tell you've already grown rather attached to it. We ascend the staircase and I let us in, closing the door again with a dull clank. The hallway is dark, but I don't reach for the light. Instead I reach for you. I slam your back hard against the wall. It shocks you and sends a jolt through your body. My face is buried in your neck, giving you wet, open mouthed kisses. I can feel your pulse pounding through your carotid artery. Your breath is shallow, your demeanour passive and expectant. I inhale your essence. My lips against yours. My tongue probes your mouth. You do strange things to me, you change me. I grab you by your hair and drag you into the bedroom. My jacket lies discarded on the floor. ...

... You're on the bed, face down. The Parisian haute couture is unzipped and violently ripped from your body, leaving you lying in your black lace lingerie. That too is forcefully removed. I spank your pert, round arse, hard and fast with an open palm, causing you to yelp with each stinging blow. The beating is harsh, but it doesn't last long and blessedly for you, I don't have a belt to hand. Usually I would give you a few savage lashes to really drive my point home, to put you in your place, to reinforce my position as daddy. I flip you over onto you back. Tears have begun to well up in your eyes, but I pay them no mind. My head is between your thighs. Lips, tongue and teeth working their way from your knees to the glistening wet folds of your vulva. My beard tickles and scratches your sensitive, supple skin. I press my nose into your mons, savouring the ethereal aroma trapped in your wispy pubic hair. My tongue parts your labia and sinks into your slit to sample your salty sweet nectar. The combination of fragrance and flavour sends a rush over me like no drug ever could. I am high on pheromones, intoxicated by your youth. I dive into your pussy with a ravenous hunger. Kissing, licking, sucking and biting. I barely hear your squeaks and squeals of delight, or is it pain? Nothing but your cunt matters to me now. The soft musky smell, the taste, the feel of your velvet skin in my mouth. It is without equal in this world and it belongs to me. It's mine, I own it. At this moment, I ...