My gentleman tied the lace around my wrists, loose enough that it didn’t hurt, but tight enough that I was well and truly bound. Tied up. Totally at his mercy. I tested the bonds, and knew that I was held fast. Erotic Passion and Desire with a gigolo.
Despite knowing I was perfectly safe in Paris the city of love with my french gentleman male escort , I felt a shimmer of fear. I’d never been tied up before. I’d never been so completely within a man’s thrall before. In that moment, I knew I would do almost anything he asked of me. And I was okay with that, because I knew he wouldn’t ask me to do anything I wouldn’t want, wouldn’t enjoy.
A growl left his lips, and he reached for me, grabbing my ass and jerking me against him, cupping the back of my neck and my ass to hold me flush against him, his jeans rough against my skin, his cock thick behind the denim, hard and straining.
James plundered my mouth with his, a french kiss so furiously desperate that I was left breathless when he pulled away. My male escort palmed both cheeks of my ass and lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, draped my bound hands behind his head, leaning down to kiss him, demanding his passion with my own kiss.
My male escort took a step, another, and then leaned forward, letting my weight drop me to the bed, my wrists at the back of his neck pulling him to me, keeping the french kiss unbroken, mouths moving, our lips tasting and teeth nipping, tongues merging and tangling, and I felt heat in my belly, an ache that had never been sated, a desire made volcanically potent by his torturous teasing with fingers and mouth, never giving me the fullness of his body.
James ducked out of my arms, backed away, shedding his blazer. I rose to a sitting position, reaching for him, grabbing a fistful of T-shirt, keeping him within in my reach. I tugged up with both hands, knotted in the cotton, and he bent to let me pull the shirt off him.
Next I reached for his pants, leaning in to kiss his breastbone, and as my lips passed over his chest, I felt the pounding of his heart, a staccato rhythm of nerves to mirror my own.
My male escort was outwardly calm and in control, despite what his pulse revealed. James stood still, staring down at me with a hint of a smile curving his mouth, as I fumbled with the button of his jeans and then, somewhat awkwardly with my tied wrists, lowered his zipper.
I pulled the jeans down around his knees, and he stepped out of them. With my bound wrists I could only get one hand curled inside the elastic of his boxer-briefs. I pulled them down in front, revealing the broad, purplish head of his thick cock waiting for me. I used the elastic to pull him closer, and then I bent over and licked the drop of clear liquid from his tip, then wrapped my lips around him, tasting him, salty and springy-soft.
My male escort pulled away, his cock leaving my mouth with a pop, and then he shoved the underwear off, stepping out of them and toward me. Naked, James was a huge, hard specimen of perfect manhood. The sight of him made my mouth go dry, made my pussy clench and drip with desire, my core going wet as the fantasy of his body covering mine became a reality. I watched as he crawled onto the bed, my heart in my throat. Erotic Passion and Desire with a gigolo.
His huge hard cock was a long, jutting shaft, bobbing and swaying from side to side as he prowled over me, forcing me to lie down as he moved over me. I could barely swallow past the pounding of my heart, barely breathe, but then his mouth was on mine and I didn’t need to breathe, because he was my breath in that moment, his hot hard cock sliding naturally into my hands, tied in front of me and trapped between us.
My male escort lowered his face to my throat, his tongue sliding against the hollow, tickling and hot and tracing. Another kiss, this to the slice of skin between my tits, followed by half a dozen more slow kisses over the round swell of my boob to the edge of my areola, and then he was tugging the cup down and baring my breast and laving his tongue over my nipple, which puckered and tightened to a stiff peak in his mouth.
My french gigolo grabbed my wrists and pulled them up over my head. Tugged the other cup down and kissed that nipple into taut attention. James twisted in place to glance at my feet, which were still clad in the strappy sandals. James slid off me, brought my foot in front of him, and unbuckled the sandal, then drew it off, tossed it aside.
My male escort kissed my ankle, the top of my foot, kissed my calf while he unbuckled the other sandal and tossed it to join the other. His french lips slid up my leg to the soft underside of my knee, and then I placed my leg over his shoulder while he continued to plant a line of kisses up the inside of my thigh. His tongue lapped at the opening of my pussy, and I shivered.
My french gigolo knelt between my legs, one knee hooked over his shoulder, the other foot bent toward him. A kiss to the tender arch of my foot, tickling, another to the side of my foot, and then the top just above my toes, and then the ankle.
Now both my knees were resting on his shoulders, and his mouth was pressed to my opening in a wet, lapping kiss, his tongue curved to slide between my slick labia, the tip of his tongue parting my lips and nudging my sensitive, swollen clit.
I gasped aloud, arched my back, and his hands caught my hips, lifted my lower half off the bed, bringing my pussy to his mouth and swiping at my core with fat licks of his tongue. Erotic Passion and Desire with a gigolo.
I gasped again, fists clenched, and then let a whimper slip from my mouth, arched my spine, and curled my legs to help him lift my body closer. His stubble was delicious, a sandpaper roughness against my soft skin as his face moved and his fingers dug into the flesh and muscle of my ass, and his tongue speared inside me again and again.
The heat and pressure building in my core became an inferno, my gasps and whimpers becoming shrieks and moans, and then I was there, shuddering on the verge of orgasm, his name on my lips. But then he dropped me to the mattress and his mouth left my cleft, and his name turned into a curse.
My male escort bit my other nipple, eliciting a shriek of protest, which turned into a moan as he sucked the thick peak into his mouth and suckled it, soothing the sting and sending a line of aching pleasure tugging at my core.
I couldn’t get all that out again, so I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips, seeking his hardness with my softness, finding his huge hard cock and sliding my slick heat along it, grinding against him.
Once I caught my breath, I shook my head. My french gigolo pushed in, a slow, aching penetration. I gasped, a high-pitched inbreath of surprise as he filled me. Holy shit. I felt like I was about to split apart, a burning ache that quickly turned to ecstasy as I adjusted to his size.
My eyes widened. I’d felt his girth with my hands, stroked his length, but that couldn’t prepare me for the reality of the way he’d feel inside me. I could only incline my head in a slight nod, and then he leaned down to kiss me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and palming my breast as he stroked fully into me.
I couldn’t breathe, aching, burning, stretched, pierced. I forced my breath in, and out, and then I blinked as my head cleared, and I absorbed the steel-and-silk of his cock inside me. My male escort cupped my breast, then dragged my nipple between two fingers, sending a small quiver through me. My french gigolo still hadn’t moved, but I was shaking with delirium at the way he felt inside me, even motionless.
I nodded, fists clenching in the effort to hold still, the slow slide as he drew out sending a frenzy of quivering thrills through me, putting alight my need to move, to feel him glide inside me. Erotic Passion and Desire with a gigolo.
But I remained motionless, at least until he brushed his lips over mine, breathing with me, tongue flicking out to trace my lips. And then I couldn’t help but kiss him back, and he took my kiss and multiplied it, giving in to need, his cock poised just inside me, only our mouths moving.
We kissed with ferocious intensity, mouth clashing, tongues tangling, breath coming ragged and harsh. And then, matching a thrust of his tongue into my mouth, he stroked into me, spearing me with his massive cock, sliding slowly so his head spread my pussy apart and took him into me to the root. Our hips met, and I was frantic to move, shaking all over. Erotic Passion and Desire with a gigolo.
I just gave him all the desperation I felt in one pleading gaze. His brow furrowed, and he glided into me, smoothly and slowly, and this time I shrieked, a breathless sound.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to remain still, hands clenched over my head, legs extended and spread apart to accommodate his trim hips.
My male escort knew it. Surely he felt it in the throbbing quiver of my pussy, the way my walls clenched around him, the way I couldn’t slow my breathing, the way my hips were rising and falling on their own in a slight flutter, despite my mental commands to stay still. But he was breathing hard, too, despite only having thrust into me a few times.
His mouth covered my breast, his tongue sliding over my nipple, sucking my boob into his mouth and making me inhale sharply, and then he did it to the other boob, and then he was squeezing my tits together and licking at both nipples at once, and I was helpless, unable to stay still, my spine curving by itself, lifting my tits to his hot, wet mouth.
My male escort pushed in yet again, and this time he started a rhythm, an agonizingly slow pace meant to make me insane and succeeding. I moaned with each stroke, fighting to stay motionless as James teased and tortured me with glacially slow thrusts, filling me inch by inch, splitting me apart with his slick, hard cock, then withdrawing just as slowly and leaving me aching with emptiness, dearly needing to move to bring him back inside me, as if his erection filling me was all that I needed to be compete.
My french gigolo sucked in a breath and let it out in a slow groan of relief as he started moving faster, incrementally increasing his pace. I pulled at him, wishing I could touch him, stroke his skin, hold his hips and clutch his hair. Instead, all I could do was hold on his neck with my bound wrists and focus on feeling him, focus on holding still.
Faster and faster, each stroke ripping a gasp from me, until he was pounding into me and I was shrieking, my voice raised in a nonstop series of screams. My tits bounced as he fucked into me, and I felt his cock fill me, pull out, fill me, slamming deep and withdrawing in a frenzied rhythm of primal fury.
And I loved it. Oh, god, I loved it. It was a glorious loss of control, it was Valentine James giving in and abandoning all hold on himself.
Lightning struck in a thousand scintillating sunbursts inside me, heat and pressure wed to become nova-hot explosions that weren’t orgasms but the bursting of pleasure inside me as that climax neared.
I clenched around him with my inner muscles, clamping onto his thrusting, sliding cock with every ounce of strength I had in my vaginal muscles. I was rewarded by a protracted groan from James, who abruptly slowed his pace, and instead of thrusting hard and fast, he slammed into me once, hard and slow, pulled out, and then slammed in again, his body tensed and trembling.
I felt his cock throb inside me at each slow, deliberate, pounding thrust, and I knew he was close. I released my vaginal muscles as he pulled out, and tensed them when he thrust in, matching him, moving in the only way I could, clutching him so he could barely pull out.
I felt my body spasming as climax stole over me, and I had to fight to push it back, hold it off, but it was impossible, like trying to push against a tectonic plate. I tried once more to hold it back, but it was in vain. I felt the orgasm seizing my body, striking my nerves like hammers, every pleasure point on my body pulsing with brilliance.
And then, with a shout, James thrust into me, and I felt him explode in the condom. I came, and I screamed. This was a full voiced scream, a sound louder than any I’d ever made in my life, a primal scream of raw ecstasy.
White light flashed on my closed eyelids, and my entire body was shaken by pulsating waves of explosive pleasure. I felt James slamming into me, his hips thrusting madly as he came and came and came, his hot seed flooding into me, stream after stream jetting against my walls.
In the throes of an earth-shaking climax, all control was forgotten, and I wrapped my heels around his back and ground my hips against his, my pussy clamped tight around his cock, my mouth against his shoulder, biting and sucking and kissing as I was wrenched and twisted and wrung by an orgasm that never seemed to end.
When it did end, it wasn’t all at once, but gradually, a slow fading, a spiral drift down from the heights of heaven.
Eventually, James was limp above me, his weight partially braced so as not to crush me, and we were both panting and sweating. After a moment, My sweet french gigolo rolled off me and flopped to his back. We lay side by side, panting, for several minutes, not speaking, revealing in the glow of bliss.
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