[Breeder] Trust

[TheBreeder]

To see Breeder's original blog post click here

“Do you trust me?”

I often heard those words from Earl’s mouth, in the years I saw him. They were always spoken without doubt, without reproach. When he’d ask, he’d look me square in the eye and hold my glance. He already knew that I trusted him without question. I never met anyone who didn’t trust him. He had a plain-spoken bluffness to which people responded. It was the first time I’d met anyone who overflowed with charisma. He had a job that required it—and they were lucky to have him. He knew. He simply wanted to hear me assert it.

Every time I nodded in response to that question, his blue eyes would crinkle at the corners. I’d glow inside, knowing I’d made him happy. Earl could make any man feel glad to run in the pack of which he was clearly top dog; around him I felt like a little puppy, anxious to please.

“If you trust me, close your eyes,” he said, the second time I went to his house. I was naked on his bedspread. My clothes lay in a heap on the floor, across the room. After a beat, I followed his instructions. I heard him move behind me, heard him open a drawer in his bedroom bureau. A moment later, I felt the tickle of fabric on the bridge of my nose. Cloth wrapped around my head, then tightened as he fastened a tight knot at the back of my head. His fingers deftly tucked a trailing corner of the bandana or the handkerchief or whatever it was that dangled on my cheek. I could open my eyes if I wanted—just barely—and see vague shadows at the very bottom of my vision, but it was more comfortable to let them remain shut.

“Now put your wrists together.” I hesitated on that one, prompting him to utter my name and ask the question again. “Do you trust me?” I did. I held out my fists, palms up, side by side in front of me. “Not like that,” he said, his voice patient.

He showed me how he wanted me to position myself—on my back, with my hands above my head. I felt something smooth and cool fasten around my left wrist. He jerked back my arms, and then I felt a similar sensation around my right arm. I found out later he’d used some leather restraints on me, and looped them around one of the metal poles in his headboard.

It was really one of the mildest forms of bondage. I could turn over on my own volition. If I’d tried, I could’ve removed the blindfold obscuring my vision. I wasn’t uncomfortable, or in pain, or losing my circulation. However, it was the first time I’d been blindfolded by anyone, and the first time I’d been put into bondage, and it frightened me more than a little. I squirmed and tested the restraints against the pole.

“Don’t struggle,” Earl said. I felt him shift on the bed; I heard the sound of him coming closer. “Open your mouth.” I obeyed, and he shoved his dick in it.

Earl was larger than most men; even if he’d had the personality of a wet potato he’d have been pack leader by virtue of his dick alone. He probably wasn’t any longer than I am now, but he was definitely thicker. His dick was a pink-capped weapon that didn’t make love to holes so much as fuck them until they gaped, as I’d found out on our first encounter. And I liked that about him.

Earl know how to shape an encounter, though. He got his enjoyment from ramping up the action quickly and escalating it to a level at which it was nearly unbearable. That second time he met, he’d barely gotten me fastened to the headboard when he was sodomizing my mouth, ramming his dick in so hard and furiously that it felt as if my mouth was bleeding. I knew better than to let my teeth interfere with his pleasure; I wrapped my lips around them so that he could enjoy me unimpeded by bashing his tender meat on a molar.

My stinging lips felt close to bursting when, several minutes later, he ripped his cock from between them. My breathing was ragged; I gasped for air. I’d barely gotten time to inhale a lungful when he replaced his dick with something else—something vaguely cold and clammy and rubbery-tasting. It was rubber . . . or latex, at least. “That’s a dildo,” he said in my ear as he pistoned it in and out. “Have you seen a dildo before?” I shook my head. I’d read about them. Dr. David Reuben had discussed them in my parents’ sex manual, Everything You Wanted to Know about Sex (But Were Afraid to Ask). But I’d never seen one, and at that point with the blindfold on, I still hadn’t.

I felt his fingers apply some kind of cold goo to my ass. He jammed them in for a moment, and made me choke around the dildo when he ripped them back out again. “I’ve got one for your other hole, too,” he growled in my ear. Almost immediately I felt an unbearable pressure against my ass as he started to push the other dildo inside. It wasn’t as warm as dick, or as flexible, or anywhere near as comfortable or desirable. To this day I still have never thought of a dildo as an adequate replacement for the real thing.

I’d had dicks in both my holes simultaneously before, during my misspent teen years. That experience had been different. If it got too much for me, I could remove my mouth from the guy fucking my face and give myself a little breathing room. In this matter I had no choice. Earl’s fists clutched the dildos and moved them in and out of my holes relentlessly. I couldn’t move my hands more than a few inches apart. I couldn’t see. And I couldn’t get away. “You can trust me,” he crooned as he made me squirm and gasp around the obstruction plugging my mouth. “But you shouldn’t trust just anyone. Not everyone is going to be this good to you.”

It didn’t feel like he was being good to me at that moment. I felt as if I were being tortured. It was tougher than I liked to breath. I was drooling uncontrollably. My ass and mouth ached. And yet my dick betrayed me by staying rock hard.

My eyes were wet. I was near tears when I felt him yank out the dildo from my ass, push back my legs, and mount me. He didn’t enter slowly. He didn’t have to. “I want you to feel it,” he said, shoving in deep. It’s a phrase I use myself, more than I care to admit. I want you to feel it. It’s Earl, echoing through me, over the miles and years.

At the time, I felt it. If I’d protested at his rough use of the dildos before, I responded instantly to the change from cold latex to burning-hot flesh. My body seemed to catch alight with fire as he slammed me. Without my sight I had to rely on my other senses to tell what made him feel best, and to bring him closer and closer. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s exactly what he wanted me to do. Earl was an expert at training guys to work dick, and in me he had a perfect subject.

If Earl enjoyed escalating the action to a point beyond enjoyment and slightly into the realm of discomfort and pain, he was equally good about bringing me back down to earth again. He shot his load in me violently, banging my head against the poles of his headboard. And then he knelt there, grinding, grinding slowly. I felt his hand around my dick. It took scarcely more than a squeeze and a stroke to bring me off, my sounds of orgasm choked and muffled by the dildo still plugging my mouth.

Then he turned into the lovemaker. He slid out of me and went down on my hole, gently lapping his own sperm from it. The application of his warm tongue against my abused orifice made me shiver; I let him move me to my side as he ate me for long, long minutes. Then he took me in his arms from behind and held me, his dick softening against my skinny butt, as he slid the dildo from my mouth. I’d barely noticed it was there, after my orgasm; I’d nursed at it while he’d licked at me. My jaw ached once it was removed, though. I worked it up and down to remove the pain.

“Good boy,” he’d say then, right into my ear. And I’d lie there with him, listening to him tell me how I’d done exactly what he wanted. He’d tell me how special I was. How beautiful I was to him. He’d hold me. And eventually he’d unfasten the restraints and let me go, feeling changed somehow. Stronger. Able to endure a little more than I’d thought I could.

Yes, I trusted him. I would’ve done anything he wanted, simply for his approval and for those moments after the fucking, when I was all the world to him. It was no surprise I had a major crush on Earl, after two or three of these encounters.

Unfortunately, his boyfriend didn’t much approve of that.

More...