i want to ride a pretty boy’s face so so bad. to grind down on his tongue, watching him look up at me with those puppy eyes, hearing and feeling his muffled moans.
“you’re such a good boy for me. touch yourself,” and i feel him shudder and whine as i say it and he obeys
thinking about riding a guy with his hands tied up to the bedpost. watching his face squint in pleasure, his mouth fall open, the admiration in his eyes as he looks up at me.
and when he starts thrusting his hips up, i stop, making him whine
“don’t move. you’re a good boy, aren’t you? stay still then. no whining! hey, if you don’t quit whining, i’m gonna up and leave you here. yeah, gonna leave you just like this, tied up and rock hard. you don’t want that, do you? of course you don’t. be a good boy then, and stay still. let me take care of you.”