Page 21 of Naughty November

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gasped, the orgasm coming hard as I watched Atticus’ cheeks bulge and his throat work. “Oh fuck.”

I let my dick slide from his slack mouth, and he struggled, the fluid dripping over his lips and chin as he swallowed what he could. So fucking hot. I loved making an absolute mess of a sub.

I dropped to my knees and kissed him, licking the jizz off his lipsand delighting in his eagerness to accept my probing tongue. We rose up against each other, and I couldn’t stop my hands from roaming over him, my fingers from pushing into his crevice, and my fingers from teasing his hole.

I pulled back and stared at him. He stared at me. More was said between us in that silent moment than had been verbalized the whole time we’d known each other. But this wasn’t the time for endearments.

“All right, then. You gonna be my pretty pony?”

“Fuck yes,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, fuck yes,Sir.” Atticus’ grin was beatific and adoring.

I pushed myself up and tucked myself away. It wouldn’t take me long to get hard again—not in this room with this man—and when I did, after we’d played pony for a bit, I was fucking him again. And maybe, after I was done, Atticus would get to have an orgasm. Perhaps I’d leave him in a state of arousal, have him phone me later tonight, and listen while he gavehimselfone.

“Get up and follow me.”

He stood, his dick sticking straight up against his belly as he walked, a sight that was so pleasing I could barely keep my eyes off it. I found myself eager to touch Atticus’ cock—tease and suck it, hear his moans—and that wasn’t something I normally did with casual hook-ups. The men I met up with were there to service me, for the most part, and they enjoyed it.

I led Atticus over to the hitching post.

As per my request, Sebastian had laid out the items I’d requested on a nearby bench. I grinned as I lifted the large rubber plug with the horsehair tail cascading from it. There were army boots in Atticus’ size with a pair of wool socks.

“Oh my fuck,” Atticus breathed, his eyes almost crossing.

“Put on the socks and boots, please. You can sit on the bench.”

I watched him do it. I had a thing for boots, so I was quite fascinated with the process. When he’d finished I had him stand and I walked around him, delighting in his nakedness and the contrast between this vulnerability and the solidity of the footwear.

“You want a tail, pretty pony?” I asked, twisting the plug in the air to make the tail swish back and forth.

“Yes, please, Sir.Please.”

“Bend over and hold on to the hitch, then.”

Atticus bent and wrapped his fingers around the metal hitch, sticking his ass out eagerly while I smeared lube over the plug.

“Spread your legs.”

As he widened his stand, I noticed that his hole was already slick and shiny.

“Did you…” I asked, “Did you get yourself ready for me?”

“Yes, Sir. I hope you don’t mind, Sir.”

Mind?

“Of course I don’t mind. I admire your forethought.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he said, while I fingered him, stretching him.

“Wait,” I said, “That’s not why you were late, is it?”

“No, Sir. Again, I’m sorry for being late. I’m usually on time for things.”

“Just don’t be late again.”