Fuck You Up

I don't think I can control it any longer. Sitting here opposite you, boy, everybody's dreamboat, watching you stare quietly into the distance. I am too out of it to move so I'll just sit here and be wrecked, if nobody minds. Perhaps you won't notice that you are being watched intently from the corner of my eye.

There's something about the innocence of you, the whole sweet uncorrupted thing. What would it take to smack you out of it?

You get up to go out of the room. God help me, my eyes are following you. I'd die rather than let you know I want you, straight boy. But listen; thanks for existing anyway so that I can have a good wank about you. There's nothing loving or gentle or romantic about the way I feel. Just an unhealthy interest, a mild obsession. A desire to see you wrecked and battered and staggeringly high, crawling across the floor crying.

You might not want to be what I want you to be. You might not want to have done to you what I want to do to you. All the same, I wish you were mine to play with.

You have been sitting on my sofa in front of my TV for fifteen minutes now. I can't think of anything to say to you. You have to go upstairs for a bath soon but your TV programme isn't over yet. I can wait. One makes allowances for one's guests.

"Come on." The programme finishes and you follow me upstairs. The bath has been running and is nearly full, not too hot.

I lock the bathroom door behind us and sit with my back up against it to watch you undress. You must take off your clothes one item at a time, in the order I tell you.

"Socks first." You lay them tidily on the towel rail. "Jeans." Now this is wonderful. You don't know whether to face towards me or away. Your hands are shaking as you lower your jeans round your knees. You sit down with an undignified clunk on the toilet seat to pull them off over your feet.

"Sweatshirt." This comes off just as clumsily. And there I stop because that's all for now.

"Get into the bath."

"Like this?" you ask.

"Get in."

You keep your gaze on me as you lower yourself in. The water makes your tee shirt cling to your chest.

I come over and sit on the edge of the bath. I won't touch you yet. It's a kind of trip to hold back and make myself wait.

"Wash yourself, your hair first." You duck back bravely under the water and shake your head. Your hair floats like strands of spun silk beneath the water's surface. When you come up for air, the water pours like sweat from your face. I want to take your face in my hands, caress that slightly open mouth. I won't.

You take the soap and wash yourself all over, even putting your hands down your pants to wash your dick.

Fantasy within a fantasy -- I climb in on top of you fully clothed. Kiss you in the water. Hold my body close to yours. -- No.

You lie back to soak and I pull out the plug. The water drains around your body, making you feel heavier, sleepy.

Then I blast you with the cold shower to rinse you clean.

Brave boy, you keep rigidly still. Maybe you gasp a little, but you don't move a muscle.

"Get out." You climb out of the bath shivering and I tell you to lie on your front on the floor. I just watch you lie there for a minute or two, watch you breathing, your shoulders and back moving rhythmically. Then I kneel and pull down your pants. They are soaked. Your unmarked buttocks are revealed, ready to be spanked. With one hand I hold down your head, with the other I slap your bum hard.

"Open your eyes and look at me." You squint your eyes open and watch my face as I strike you. I'm smiling. I never did get the hang of being stern, and right now I'm fucking happy.

"On your back." You roll over and I pull your pants off completely, throwing them somewhere.

"Knees up. Spread your legs." You screw up your eyes so you can't see yourself doing this. You are trembling. I have to hold you for a minute just to get you calm. I kiss your face and you relax a little.

"You know what to say if it gets too much?" You nod.

I kneel between your legs and go down to suck you. Let me be a limpet at your groin. Let me just latch on here, forever tasting this sweet taste and warmth and hearing you moan gently. I'll move my tongue round the head of your cock in gentle circles, give it lots of spit, then remove my mouth and wank you gently, teasingly.

"Take your tee shirt off." You sit up to take it off, but it's tight and wet and you find it hard to balance, my hand still on your dick, and I wait till you have your hands crossed over your head before I wank you. You stumble back and struggle to get it off.

I get up and look down at you. "Here's a towel. Dry yourself and come into my bedroom."

Five minutes later I hear you knock. I don't answer immediately. It's more fun to think of you standing, naked, in anticipation outside my room.

"Come in." Your face appears round the door. I am sitting on my sofa with my feet up. You shut the door behind you and wait for me to tell you what to do.

I kick my coffee table to one side and tell you to stand in front with your hands on your head. I look you up and down, take in every detail of your goose- bumped skin.

"Turn round." The hand marks on your backside have gone. I succumb to temptation and run my finger down the crease, pausing at your anus, which makes you gasp.

"Touch your toes." I run my hands up the backs of your legs from ankle to thigh. You can't balance like that.

"Kneel down, head to the floor." I stroke your back with one finger, ruffle your damp hair. "Now come and sit on the floor -- here."

There is a large mirror propped against the armchair. I sit you in front of it and tell you to close your eyes.

Out comes my make-up bag. Out comes powder, eye shadow, lipstick. You bite your lip when it becomes apparent that I am putting make-up on you. You do not say your safeword; I am so relieved. But we're not through yet.

I lick one lot of lipstick from your lips and rub it against my own cheek. The I apply more. "Open your eyes and look at yourself."

I watch you in the mirror. Before you even open your eyes you are bracing yourself. Then you see your face. I can tell from your expression that this has never happened before. "You look like a cheap slut," I say, close behind you now. "Do you know what cheap sluts get?"

"No," you say.

"They get fucked."

You reel around to face me but say nothing. Your eyes plead, you mind is going through torture. "Now, you'll be a good boy and let me do it, won't you?"

You don't answer. "I'll have to take you by force if you don't agree to co- operate," I say.

You taunt me, edging away as if you're really scared. I dive on you and we wrestle. Easily stronger than me, you seem to be letting me win, and soon I am straddling you and slapping your face.

"Give in, slut!" You look so angelic when I've just slapped your cheek that I just have to do it again. You wince away.

"Bite your lip and don't cry," I tell you. You are shaking almost uncontrollable and with the last smack on your cheek you cry out. A lot of tension is released in that cry but still you shake.

"Are you okay?" You nod that you are.

"You want me to do this?" You nod that you do. I haul you across to my bed and pile some pillows up to place you across. I tell you to position yourself comfortably over them on your front.

I put on a latex glove and moisten one finger with lube. It slips easily into your anus without too much reaction from you. Two fingers make you grasp the duvet. I keep going, widening you gently. I use my other hand to massage your balls. From the noise you make you're having a good time.

Now you're ready.

I strap my dildo on and roll on a condom. I squeeze a load of lube inside you, place the end of the dildo against your anus, ease it forwards a little, then ram it in and fuck you silly.

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