Many decades ago, when I was in my teens and growing up in Yorkshire, I would meet another lad a year older than me. His name was P———. He was a little smaller and skinnier than me, but quite assertive and could be quite mean. We would meet and play games that became increasingly sexual as we went on and I would have my first serious sexual experiences with him. We would meet at my house or his, if our families were out, or in the woods near our houses, or in derelict factory units - back when we had factories.
My favourite game was “True. Dare. Kiss. Command. Promise.” Each of us took turns to choose a word, and the other person playing had to concoct a challenge or request with that word. I loved the gut-churning nerves of playing with him, not knowing what was coming - but secretly knowing exactly how it would go.
We had played this game on and off for some years, but as we became more sexually aware in our middle-teens, it became more and more sexual, erotic and raunchy. The challenges always started quite vanilla.
“Is it true you peed in the woods?”
“Yes”
“I dare you to take off your trousers and t-shirt.”
“I dare you to get out your willy.”
“Kiss my bum.”
“Take off your underpants.’
As we got older, it was apparent that P——— must have been meeting other people. His sexual knowledge and language changed. He started to describe Femmes and Dommes, Tops and Bottoms, or my favourite: “Butch and Bitch.”
I was clearly the bitch in our relationship and loved to be under his command. (Even now, years later, my breath quickens and my hands shake with the anticipation of how our game would go and the increasingly sexual demands he would make of me.)
So the games progressed:
“Kiss my willy! Is it true you will poke your own hole? I dare you to put my cock in your mouth.”
I would soon be asking him do things to me: “Will you promise to finger me? I dare you to wank me and make me hard.”
Then I would be on my knees obeying his orders. It was always best at one of our homes, when the folks were out. I enjoyed in particular looking sideways into a carefully positioned standing mirror: me on my knees in front of him, and him feeding his stiff, slightly bent cock into my face. Sometimes he would bend forward over my back, pull my arse cheeks apart, and push a finger at my anus, painfully probing me as I continued to tongue his cock-head.
Eventually we would both be naked. And we got to request that he use my favourite word in the whole game. A word I never liked to use too early in our ‘game’: “Command!”
“True, dare, kiss, command or promise?”
“Command”
“I command that you let me fuck your arsehole!”
Our early attempts at anal fucking were hard. We didn’t know lube should be used, or what might work. I would clean and wash my anus, and dry it carefully, but then put talcum powder on it to make it smell nice - but talc is the exact opposite of a lube! I would sometimes feel my muscles were almost being torn by the blunt head of his hard penis as he tried to push it inside me. However we soon got better after these painful attempts to push his cock up me. I discovered a small bottle of olive oil - back when it was for medicinal uses, rather than cooking - and it was brilliantly slippy and slidey. Perfect.
I would bend over, sometimes if we were outdoors still with trouser and pants round my ankles, shirt pushed up towards my shoulders, other times indoors and wholly naked. I would rub oil on my anal sphincter and over the head and shaft of his penis. He would push the head of his rigid knob at my tiny tight ring of muscle, and it would feel as if the whole weight of his body was focused on that one point of contact, then the hole would give, and expand, and his greased shaft would slide inside me, going balls deep. Then he would grip my hips driving his fingers and nails into the hipbones and start to fuck me hard. I loved it doggy style. “Pull it right out,” I would beg. “Then slide it all the way back in.”
P——— pulled his cock from my oiled hole, just leaving the very tip in my sphincter muscle, then slowly, powerfully and very forcefully push it back its my guts until his balls hit mine and I gasped with the pleasure. Then he would do it again. And again. And again. As I quivered with pleasure at his physical invasion. I always liked to see his cock sliding into my anus - more difficult than it is now in the age of digital cameras - and would lay a mirror on the floor, and straddle it on al fours. As he fucked me, I could look back and watch his masterful cock slipping in and out of me.
As his bitch, I would ask what he was doing to me: “Fucking the arse off you!” he spat. “Fucking your tight little arsehole.” I loved his dirty talk and my knees would weaken. It didn’t take much for me to come back then, and I deliberately tried to not even touch my own ragingly erect cock for fear of shooting my cum too soon. It often only took one touch, with him masterfully pushing his penis in and out. Usually he pulled out and sprayed me with come, or we would spray each other. Occasionally he’d come inside me, and deliver ad semen enema into my guts.
I haven’t done anything like that since. But gay sex and getting reamed by a masterful fucker remains one of my most powerful fantasies. Hope you enjoyed this. |
