The Double Anal Weekend Ch. 02

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The first thing I remember from Friday morning is noticing the smell of breakfast being cooked. Wait, that’s not right. I faintly remember feeling you rouse, pull the blankets away, fold my boxer briefs down so you could kiss the head of my cock, then gently place it back in my underwear and pat it lightly a couple times. Then you tucked me back in and silently slipped into the bathroom. Calling you a good girl is an understatement.

Breakfast is just being finished as I emerge from the bedroom. I have to rub my eyes at first to believe what I’m seeing: fresh squeezed OJ and a yogurt parfait already on the table, and an omelet just being finished up and slid onto the plate by my own personal chef. A chef who’s wearing an apron, backless lace panties that allow a brief peek of her black rose-petal-like stretching plug and a chefs hat, and that’s it. I’m greeted with a bubbly “Good morning!”

“This,” I say, drawing an imaginary circle in the air around both the table and you with my finger “is impressive.” Your smile grows wider.

“Thank you Daddy! You deserve it!” As you pull out my seat, you take a step back and remove the apron, standing silently and staring expectantly. “So how is it?” you ask, giving a little bouncy hop and a giggle.

I make you wait on purpose as I sample everything, slowly trying one and then a second spoonful of parfait. I make weird faces as if I’m mulling it over. I try a bite of omelette and nod my head. “It,” I say grabbing your ass and pulling you to me “is as good as you are. And that’s pretty fucking good.” I get a big smile from you as you lean down and kiss me, long and deep, tongues darting as I feel a wave of goosebumps ripple across your skin. “Now join me.”

“Yes Daddy,” you say, walking over to the other side of the table where your place is set. Pulling the chair away from the table, you pick up the nightie you’d laid there earlier. “May I put this on?”

“No, you may not,” I reply. “If it’s too cold you can turn the heat up. The view from this side of the table is far too good for you to ruin it with clothing.” Instead, you lay the nightie over the back of one of the unused chairs. As you take your place at the table, I notice how small your portion size is and it makes me realize just how committed you are to the fantasy we find ourselves in.

Months ago, we had an honest and open discussion about how to prepare for an extended period in which your ass would be used or filled nearly constantly. We talked about fasting, portion sizes, what to eat, when do to enemas, and anything else we knew or could learn about how you could keep you ass open, available, and healthy through multiple days of continuous use. You even figured out that taking osphena would help with skin elasticity. Intermittent fasting is a big part of your plan. It’s a detail that’s not lost on me.

There’s an obvious, pervasive sexual tension hanging in the air this morning. Each bite of your fruit is licked and flicked with the end of your tongue, making me wish it was one of my body parts you were lavishing your oral attention upon. At one point you quite deliberately spill a dollop of cherry yogurt onto your pert left breast, then let a second spoonful fall onto the right one creating a matching mess. “Oopsie!”, you interject innocently as you rise from the table and saunter towards me with slow, purposefully placed steps. Leaning in with your bare chest only inches from me you stand motionless with eyes pointed toward the ceiling, batting your eyelashes expectantly.

“I’m so clumsy. Would you help me clean up, Daddy?” I flash a side-eyed look as if to prove that I know what you’re up to and I blot my lips with my napkin. Those same lips then lunge for your tits, animalistic in their intensity, alternately suckling on your nipple and licking up and down your curves until your perfect left boob is fully clean. I then turn my attention to the right one, swirling circles around the areola, pausing briefly to playfully nibble at your erect nipples, finishing only when I’m satisfied with your heightened level of arousal. A cooing sigh follows my final move: blowing lightly on each of your immaculate, handful-sized breasts to make even more goosebumps raise across your chest. You walk back to your seat with the same deliberate bearing, exposed butt swaying to and fro. Neither of us speaks, but the tension in the air has at least doubled.

A few minutes later, I finish and you jump up obediently to clear my plate. Without asking, you reappear from the kitchen with a fresh glass of orange juice and ask me if there’s anything else I’d like. I push my chair away from the table and move close enough to kiss your neck, slowly tracing a path from your collar bone up to your ear. “There sure is,” I whisper.

I wrap my right arm around your side and move my fingers up your spine. A shiver rocks your shoulders as I trace a path up the back of your neck, scraping the tips of my fingernails along the base of your scalp, fingers interlaced in your hair. In one move escort bursa I grab you by the back of the head tightly, swivel you around, and bend you over table. “Grab the sides” I order. My boxers fall to the ground as you feel a hand grasp the plug and start removing it. This particular plug is an impressive two inches wide at its most voluminous point, with three petal-like protrusions you have to pinch together to insert. Once in, they strain to reopen themselves, constantly dilating your most private of places.

The petals of the stretching end begin to appear as your grip releases. I take my time, letting it slip back in and then pulling nearly all the way out in order to give myself just long enough to get rock hard. As I fuck you with the toy you repeat a mantra, emoting differently with each repetition: “Oooohh, Daddy! Oooooh, Daaaaah-deeee!” It doesn’t take long until you feel the ends of the petals spring fully open as the plug exits you. I set it on the table and plunge my manhood into your warm, familiar rear entrance, using only the lube that was already inside you.

“Oh, oh, ahhhh, Daddy! Go in my pussy first! Please lube up in my pussy!” you beg. In one hands-free motion, I pull all the way out and let the head of my cock dip down just a little, then dive into your pussy. You’re so drenched, a single stroke is all it takes. I pull directly back out and bury myself in your ass once again, never changing rhythm. The sounds you make are deep, guttural expressions of satisfaction and implore me to do it again. I continue to pull out, switch holes, stuff myself nearly balls-deep, and repeat without breaking my stride. Eventually after a dozen or so switches, I pause just above your now gaping elastic ring as I grab both shoulders and force my full weight forward, pushing until I feel the grip of your anus resting against the base of my cock, squeezing me in delight. “Gaaaahhh! So deep!” you exclaim, never telling me to stop but making it obvious how intensely I’m stretching you out.

I pull your body with me me as I take the two steps back to my chair and guide you down so you’re sitting on my lap with your back towards me, hands on the edge of the table. “Now fuck me until you cum,” I command.

You hold your legs together and place your hands on my knees, bouncing your ass up and down in my lap, working the depths of your backside with my cock. You look almost dainty and proper half-bent over with your legs held shut, but all I have to do is look down at that beautiful round bottom and see my swollen manhood framed between the two sides of your backless panties to be reminded of the slut you truly are.

“You feel so damn good. My perfect, petite little slut!” I whisper as you bounce higher and higher, egged on by my encouragement and praise, pushing even deeper as your cheeks rhythmically smack against my crotch. “It’s such a turn-on to know everyone sees you as a reserved, intelligent professional woman when you’re such a kinky whore behind closed doors. Nothing turns me on more than how you use that ass to serve and please me!!”

“God, Daddy, I could cum already! May I cum? Please? Please??” you beg.

I wanted to make you hold off until I was ready but you’ve been so, so good I throw caution to the wind. “Squeeze that cock with your shithole as you cum. Get those fingers in your pussy and cum! Hard!” I feel the packed fullness of three fingers diving into your frontside, instantly unleashing the clenches and spasms of a whole-body anal orgasm. Screams of passion bounce off the walls as you violently jump up and down, briefly letting your feet leave the ground at the highest point before your weight and your convulsing rectum slams back down on me. I suddenly feel an orgasm boiling up inside as you howl loud enough for your neighbors to hear “fill me up Daddy! Fill my ass up!”

Grabbing your hips as I begin to ejaculate I hold you firmly down against my lap, depositing my seed as deeply as I can. The feeling of your ass grinding on me as your fingers furiously penetrate your dripping pussy is as if you’re trying to jack me off from inside as I cum. The caress of your fingers through your most private of areas makes me explode even harder than last night. I bite your neck hard, growling as the final drips dribble from the tip of my cock deep into your insides, arms wrapped around you pressing your back against me. You stay in my lap as I finish, grinding a little more from side to side as the final waves of your own orgasm fade.

As you start to rise I feel you clench as tightly as you can. As soon as I pop out you scurry to the bedroom and return with a medium-sized black tapered plug and hand it to me without saying a word. I hold it out as you turn around and nestle your butt down on it letting it slide in easily. Then you turn back to face me and mount my leg, sitting down to assure me the toy is firmly in place as you kiss me deeply while you play with my spent cock.

Just as you did the night before you fall to your knees and meticulously bursa otele gelen escort clean me, slurping my shaft with long strokes of your tongue and then taking the whole half-hard implement of your sodomy in your mouth, enthusiastically milking every last drop of cum out and swallowing it. When you’re satisfied with your work, you finally lean back on your haunches and look up at me. “I really need to get ready for work.”

A few minutes later as you’re laying out your clothes in the bedroom, I slip behind you and surprise you with gift – a small, lightweight square box. Opening it reveals a very special bra and panties set. The panties are black and have “anal only” written across the ass in white block lettering. The bra is white, unpadded, and made of lace with “slut” embroidered in black on the right cup and “whore” on the left. You discard the underthings you were going to wear and try them on. A perfect fit! The only problem is that you were planning on wearing a white blouse to work today. I have you put it on anyway and take a picture as you hold the bottom tight so it stretches tight across your tits. The words “slut whore” are clearly visible through the shirt. “Guess I’m wearing a different shirt today.”

“Don’t feel up to the challenge?” I ask.

You start to say something and pause as if weighing your options in your mind. “Well, you know one of my limits has to do with getting in trouble at work or getting fired, but just for you I’ll try. I’ll try to be the best slut whore there is,” you say, spanking each of your tits along with the words “slut” and “whore”. “But I’m taking a change of shirts with just in case.”

Time has gotten away from us, so we both rush to gather our things. Minutes later, we’re both ready and our Uber is downstairs. Your hair is done conservatively and your business suit belies the perverted, twisted sub that I know lives underneath. We both sit in the back seat, my hand under your ass so I can play with the plug that’s still holding my cum inside you. With my other hand, I place another present in your lap. “Aw Daddy, you spoil me too much!” you say.

“You end up paying me back for each one with your obedience. I think that’s a pretty fair trade.” The box is heavier than you’d expect for being so small. You undo the little plastic sticker holding the cover on and slip it open. “I figured since you’ve mentioned it in the past, we might as well make it a part of this weekend. I know how much you’ve wanted one.”

You put your finger through the item and raise your hand up to inspect your very own silver tunnel plug. With a little confusion in your voice, you ask “Wait, you mean for today? While I’m at work??”

“Here’s your task. I’m confident you can handle it,” I explain as I lean in close, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Before ten o’clock you are to go to the bathroom, set your phone on the back of the toilet so you can record what you do, and send me a video. In the video you’ll pull out the other plug and put this one in. You’ll let what’s left of my cum drip out of you. When you feel you’re empty, you will turn around and lick the plug clean. Unless they have cameras in the bathroom, that shouldn’t get you in trouble or fired now should it?”

I can tell you’re wrestling with it in your mind, slightly peeved that I’ve found a way to make you do something so filthy while technically not crossing the limit you’ve set. The plug disappears into your purse without another word but I can’t get a read on how you feel about it. A few minutes later your gaze turns from looking out the window back to me. “You don’t expect me to wear it the whole rest of the day at work, do you?”

“No, no. Put the other plug back in when the video is done. Then watch your phone,” I answer. I can tell the mixture of work and play has you uncomfortable as we pull up to the impressive yet somehow indistinguishable mirror-sided monolith of business you work in. “You trust me?” I ask as the door opens and you start to get out.

You turn back towards me, hiding your reluctance with a faint smile. “Of course, Daddy. I trust you. You watch your phone too.” With a playful peck on my forehead, you’re off. I watch you walk all the way to the revolving door and disappear inside, studying to see if I can tell that there’s a nice big toy holding my essence in your rear. It’s only after you’ve entered the building that I realize the driver is watching you as intently as I was.

“Man, she seems like a little bit of alright,” he says, having overheard every word. He’s a thirty-something black man with tight cut hair and an overstuffed coat that doesn’t seem necessary on such a beautiful fall day. “How do I get me one of those?”

I pull out a leather bound notebook and hold it up. “It’s a lot of work,” I reply honestly. “Every role play idea, every kink we’ve talked about, every address or phone number I’ve needed, every toy I’ve bought or might buy in the future, every guy we’ve had a bursa sınırsız escort threesome with, every bit of research and logistics I’ve had to figure out in order to pull off some of her fantasies, it’s all in here.” I fan through the pages so he can see it in the rear-view.

“For reals?” he asks. “But she lets you do all sorts of crazy stuff tho. Is it worth it?”

“Not ‘lets’, wants. She wants to do all of this crazy stuff,” I say holding the book up and shaking it twice. “Sometimes she doesn’t even know she wants it at first. Sometimes she says she doesn’t want something but the way she says it makes me remember to bring it up it in a different way later. Sometimes she’s absolutely sure she wants to do something just as soon as possible and it takes me six months to pull off. But she never does anything she doesn’t want. The real trick is to make her want it before she even knows she does.”

“Huh”, is all he can manage to reply. It’s obviously an awful lot for him to take in.

“And to answer your other question, yes. Absolutely yes. It’s worth every damned second,” I say, hanging on each of the last three words for effect. I finish flipping to the page I was searching for and give the driver the address. He pulls out into the street and we keep talking.

“Man, I don’t know if I could put in that kind of time. Ain’t a relationship enough work already?” he laughs, shaking his head a little.

“Well maybe, but think of one of your biggest fantasies. A threesome with another girl, maybe? That’s a common enough one. Now imagine you find a girl who’s not only cool with it, but she just might be more into it than you are. Imagine she thanks you up and down every time you make it happen. Imagine she sends texts with ideas about what to do next time or who to be with. And then imagine that during the vanilla parts of the relationship you start see eye to eye more often. That you just feel like you’re on the same wavelength because the kinky stuff comes so natural. That big challenges between the two of you don’t seem as big anymore, kinda like you’re both at peace the rest of the time because when you’re intimate it’s so intense and so . . . freeing. Think that’d be worth it?”

“Hells yeah,” he says nodding slowly. He asks a few more questions along the way, eventually pulling into a no-parking zone in front of our destination. “Here’s your stop. You two going there later? I hear people do some *crazy* stuff in that place,” he says pointing to the red curtains in the two front windows.

“You know it. I tipped through the app but do you want a little something else?” I ask as I hold up my phone showing a topless picture of you.

“What, of your girl? Shit yeah!”

I airdrop four pictures from the folder of nudes and action shots that you’ve agreed can be sent to anyone at any time. As I get out of the car I hear him exclaim “Goddamn! Your girl a FREAK!”

“You know it,” I say, closing the door. He stays for a minute swiping through the pictures with an increasingly shocked look on his face and then shakes his head a few times, making the sign of the cross before putting the car in drive and pulling away. After he departs, I turn my gaze to front of the sex club where I’m planning on tonight’s action taking place. In ornate lettering on an old movie marquee that could use to be repainted it reads DUNGEON BELLA. A sign next to the door shows the hours “Thursday – Friday – Saturday – Sunday, Noon – Very Late”. I’m way too early.

After perusing an import store you could smell from a half a block away due to all the incense, I feel my phone vibrate. I duck under an overhang and pull my phone out to see a message with a tiny thumbnail attached. Looking both ways to make sure I have a little privacy, I open the message and press play. I’ve gotten enough sexts from you at work to tell the difference between the multi-stall bathroom and the private one and to my surprise, you’re in the multi-stall one.

You start bent over facing the camera with your finger over your lips. ‘Shhhh’, you motion. As you turn around, your panties begin to inch down so slowly it’s as if your ample behind is fighting to keep ahold of them. Thumbs hooked under the strap on each hip, you tug downwards first on the left and then on the right, highlighting the rotund fullness of your hindquarters just begging to be exposed. Finally, after a painfully long build up the top hem slides over the widest part of your supple curves exposing the black silicone plug. Even with the merciless pounding you took both last night and this morning removing it is a momentary struggle, evidence of how strong your training has made you.

The other hand swings back and I see the silver tunnel plug swiftly take its place. The plug has a massive, almost two-inch gape which means the flare at the tip must be closer to two-and-a-half. As it begins to disappear it’s obvious you’re struggling not only to receive something so wide, but to keep your angle just right so nothing leaks out yet. A quick twist clockwise, then counterclockwise eases the tightness just enough that you redouble your effort and push harder. Eventually it slips in but the slowness with which your taught skin crests the widest point and stretches down over the shaft tells me all I need to know about how stuffed it’s making you feel.

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