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I was surprised at how hard his nipple was, a lonesome pebble seeking attention.
Ever so gently, I rolled his nipple between my teeth, and Marco sucked air between his lips so forcefully I couldn’t decide if he enjoyed it or not.
I reached for my fishnet stocking, and not really knowing what to do, I wrapped it around his wrists. Hogtying him—I guess that’s what it’d be called.
Marco was completely at my mercy—blindfolded and bound by the wrists.
The drunken grin on his face indicated he held no fear, though.
As I repeated my exploration of his other nipple, he wriggled against the fishnet restraints.
I rolled my tongue around the hairless bud and glided to the tip, and then wrapped my lips around and sucked. I never knew men had sensitive nipples and based on how much Marco’s hips squirmed beneath me and how his iron-hard cock thumped into my backside, I’d say he was very sensitive.
It was the ultimate pleasure to see him both captured and captivated.
What should I do now?
All my other exploits centered around the man watching me, but damn, Marco’s total submission, and the ease with which he succumbed to me, was so incredibly empowering.
I leaned forward and tapped my nipple to his lips.
Marco sucked my boob into his mouth. He didn’t need an invitation.
My breast was sucked more thoroughly than I’d intended to let him, yet it shot glorious shivers through my body and between my legs.
I flicked my tongue over his ear, and his hands tightened against his restraints. A sense of playfulness mingled with desire. My problem was I still had my underpants on.
Pulling back, I snapped my breast from his over-eager lips, stood, and quickly removed my panties. Inspired, I draped my lacy underwear across his nose and mouth. He sniffed long and deep, then clutched them in his teeth.
Seeing him do that was more erotic than I’d ever imagined it would be.
Back on my knees again, I sat my pulsing vagina on his muscle-clad torso. I ground my hips, gliding up and down, well away from his groin.
I wasn’t ready for penetration with a stranger yet.
But I was nearly there.
I just hoped the man who I finally had sex with was ready for a wild ride.
That tantalizing thought shot a delicious thrill through me, and I leaned back and glided my hand around the smooth skin stretched tight over Marco’s thick shaft.
His cock bounced beneath my touch. He groaned and raised his hips, levitating his crown toward me. A pearl of thick liquid oozed from the slit at the tip of his crown, and I pinched it between my fingers and glided it over his cock.
Ultimate control was truly satisfying.
Taking a man to the limit was surprisingly thrilling. My eyes rolled, and I spied an interesting bottle on the kitchen counter with frosted glass and a square base that became cylindrical at the top. The writing on the label was in Italian. Disaronno.
I’d never heard of it.
I whipped my bra off Marco’s eyes. Blinking, he seemed confused at first, but the smile that crossed his lips was my smile. The one that showed me he was truly happy.
“What’s that?” I pointed at the bottle.
He turned his head toward the kitchen and frowned.
“The bottle. What is it?”
“Disaronno. Italian Amaretto.”
