choked up.


There’s something wildly arousing about an empty room. Bare walls, bare mattress, empty drawers and empty counter-tops. Homeboy and I fucked on a sleeping bag topped with a towel so that he had somewhere to sleep after I left. He’d left his ropes and condoms unpacked, knowing full well that we’d need them before he left. Things were as hot as always, maybe even more. He teased me, rubbed his knee against my cunt so he could feel the heat radiating off of me. He tied me into his favorite position after making me suck his dick. I grabbed his cock in my mouth hungrily and swallowed it, pressing my tongue against the underside, mimicking the movements I’d made earlier using his finger as a surrogate. As I felt him approaching climax, I pulled away and he tied his ropes around my limbs.

He smacked my ass. At first, slow open handed smacks on the meat of my ass, slow enough to allow me to recover in between hits. Then they came faster and closer together and harder. Building and inching closer to my pussy. I flinched every time he pulled away, bracing myself for the next smack that I was so sure would follow. He called me a kinky whore and described the particular shade of pink that my ass had turned. Then he slipped into me and pressed his body against my shins, slowly inching deeper inside me and bringing me to orgasm nearly instantly. Within minutes the towel was soaked with my cum, splashing on my chest and running down my ribs under my breasts. Eventually he noticed that I’d dropped into my subspace. Soon after, he placed his hands around my neck, gripping and closing my windpipe as I came one final time. My lungs heaved a final surge of breath that caught in my chest as the darkness set in and I heard his moans in the distance.

He started cursing, as usual, as he came, and I rolled over onto my side as soon as he finished, my lungs heaving and gasping for air and my body shuddering. A soreness fell over me, gripping my lungs and stabbing the soft tissue repeatedly. He knew something was wrong, although he couldn’t see the tears running down my cheeks. I don’t know if it was knowing that I’d actually really miss him in the coming months or if it was the discomfort after being choked so brutally. “Primal” he said and I nodded in agreement, still curled up towards the wall, hiding my face in his pillow. He reached over and placed his hands on my back, running his fingers over my skin. Combing my hair through his fingers. Petting me. That tinge of regret that I felt sneaking up on me quickly melted away, and I explained what had happened. It’ll never be perfect all the time. We agreed on implementing a safe word for next time. Something to give me a little more control over the situation, especially when I feel in danger as I just had. He held me and fed me water until I drew myself out of the subspace, in awe of the orgasm I’d just had regardless of the mental state it left me in.

We dressed and went to have a drink, parting ways soon thereafter. He hugged and kissed me, held me and told me that he’d had a lot of fun with me. I agreed. I didn’t realize how attached I’d gotten until that moment. I was glad he quickly turned away and left. I sat on the stairs for a few minutes, reflecting. Fighting back the knot that had caught in my throat.

One Response to “choked up.”

  1. Damn thats fucking hot. Your post mode me realize that I, too, always curse whenever I have an orgasm. Usually its just a long, drawn out “Fuuuuuuuck.”

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