Date: Sat, 4 Dec 2010 23:11:46 +0000
From: Matt Buck <matt_v_jellicle@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Lamp Post
Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional in that it never happened. Any
likeness to real events is entirely coincidental. The characters are from
my imagination.
Story by mattbuck (matt_v_jellicle@hotmail.com). Comments, suggestions and
(constructive) criticism always welcome.
More stories can be found on my website.
http://mattbuck.irongalaxy.com
MM, oral, anal, bondage, domination, toys, outdoor
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dedicated to the person I wrote this about. You know who you are.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Winter. Cold. Snow. Excitement. You walk slowly, your feet crunching
through the frozen white, leaving the perfect trail for anyone to follow if
they wanted. You cast a look over your shoulder - no one - but the idea of
someone following you at once scares and excites you. You trudge onwards,
over the playing fields, and you see the streetlamp. Your mind drifts back
to the tales of Narnia, the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It feels
strangely right, how everything is the same but different, the world turned
upside down yet still the right way up. He's standing there, dressed all in
black, in the pool of sodium light. You chance a wave - he can see you, but
he doesn't respond. You keep going, closer, closer, the snow just reaching
the top of your shoes as you step on to the path and join him.
"Hi," you say, but he reaches up a gloved hand and covers your mouth
with two fingers. You nod in understanding as he moves closer, backing you
against the streetlamp, pressing himself against you and swapping fingers
for lips in a chaste kiss, swiftly moving over your cheek to bite at the
nape of your neck. You lean your head back against the cold metal, twisting
to the side to give him better access. His hands swiftly find their way to
your backside, gripping you - nothing gentle, just animal desire. You wrap
your arms around his back, not quite sure what to do, but knowing that it's
all his choice, not yours.
With one last deliciously painful bite he backs off, shucking away
your arms. He pulls off his gloves, throwing them to the floor, then
reaching into a pocket to pull something out. A scarf. Oh.
"Stay still." You obey, even though butterflies in your stomach tell
you to run away, and within moments you can see nothing but a few bits of
snow near your feet as he ties the scarf around your head.
"Turn round." You shuffle in the snow, reaching out blindly with your
arms until you feel the post in front of you. A crunching as he moves, then
roughly pulls your arms forward. A snap - when did he get handcuffs? You
try to pull back, but it's already too late, and the chain just clangs
against the cold metal. He laughs slightly, sounding strangely hollow in
the cold night air. You hear the crunch of snow, receding, and for a moment
are worried that he would just leave you there, but he returns quickly,
pulling up the rear of your fleece, exposing your back to the falling snow
as he pushes a hand down inside your jeans, groping your arse with more
tenderness now, fingers tracing over your hole, teasing, tickling,
tormenting. You can't help but moan slightly as his warm fingers brush over
the back of your balls, and you can almost hear him grinning. He worms his
other hand inside your jeans, pushing down on your boxers, rolling them
down over your hips and your hardening cock which he grants a squeeze
to. He pulls his hands out again and presses himself against your back,
thrusting his hips against yours. You can't help but push back. But his
hands are busy - one runs up inside your shirt, quickly finding and pulling
on your nipples, while the other caresses the front of your jeans, sweet
sensation from your cock, but then starts working on the button fly. One
button gets stuck briefly, and he growls in frustration, but then the hand
is inside your jeans again, but is quickly out again, pulling your cock
into the freezing air. You whimper, and there's more crunching before his
lips touch the head of your cock. Now you groan, pushing your hips forward,
letting him take your entire length into his hot mouth with its caressing
tongue. He takes hold of your hips and slowly pulls back, exposing your now
wet cock to the freezing breeze, sending icicles up your spine. You gasp,
and he slips it back in, his mouth now almost painfully hot after the cold
air. You can tell he's loving this, loving the way you want him, probably
also loving the feel of your cock in his mouth. In a way you have a strange
power, even if you are chained to a streetlamp.
He pulls off you again, and this time stands up. The icicles return
with a vengeance, and your entire body tenses. He pats your backside again,
then takes your hands in his and pulls off your gloves. His hands are
surprisingly warm, and the cold air doesn't actually feel that bad on yours
- not compared to that other part of your anatomy. He guides your hands to
the front of his trousers, and you can feel the hardness underneath,
waiting to get out. Your fingers fumble for the zip, half expecting him to
tell you to stop, but he lets you continue. No boxers - your fingers just
find hot flesh. He moans.
"God I love cold hands." You smile, knowing you caused him that, gave
him the pleasure he wanted. Cold hands. That you can do. You pull his cock
out into the cold and slowly pump it, first with one hand, then two as you
realise it's silly to try and do it with one when the other can be no more
than six inches away. His hand finds your cock, slowly stroking it, making
you whimper - you're normally sensitive, but with the cold it's just extra.
So so good. His other hand fumbles with your jeans, undoing the top button,
letting them fall down to expose your crotch totally. Ch-illy. His hand
moves to your balls, pulling on them gently. He withdraws again, and hands
you your gloves. "Put them on." You do so gratefully as he moves around
behind you. Some noises, and a finger coated in lube pushes into your
bum. You moan in pleasure, and then even more when a second is inserted.
"Mmm, good boy," he whispers in your ear. "Such a little slut, just
dying for your arse to be played with. But that's ok, I like that. I like
my slutty little boy and his tight little arse. I'm going to enjoy this."
You brace yourself for his cock, but instead you feel something rubbery
against your arse, pushing inside. Dildo? Butt plug? Either way, it feels
good, even if your balls are freezing off. He senses your discomfort, and
pulls the front of your boxers back up over your cock. Whatever it is in
your arse, it's stretching you out as he fucks it in and out of you, making
you moan. You cling to the cold metal streetlamp, hugging it while pushing
your arse back towards him, begging him to fuck you, even if you know
you're not allowed to say it. He pushes harder, whatever it is feeling
wider and wider, stretching you, a bit painful but also pleasurable, then
it gets narrower, and just slides in easily. Butt plug. God it feels
big. He pats your bum, and starts to pull it out again, playing with it,
with you, getting you ready. Fuck. In one move he pulls it out, and you
feel cold air briefly slip inside your arse before it closes.
"Ready?" He asks. You whimper in response, clutching the pole tighter
as you feel his cock rubbing over your arse crack. Then he pushes.
Resistance, your arse doesn't like it, even though you know you want it so
badly you could get down on the ground and just beg for it. Beg for him to
put his cock inside you, to screw you and make you feel that thrill that
only comes from having someone inside you. You try and relax, and then at
last his head is in. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pushes slowly
in, making you utter a long drawn-out moan, almost a howl. So big, so big,
so oh god yes. He presses his chest against your back, wrapping his arms
tightly around you, making you feel strangely secure, even if you are tied
up, blindfolded in the open air being fucked on a snowy night.
"Yeah, god I love your arse," he whispers. He lets you get used to it
for a minute, then slowly starts pulling out, making you moan again. A hand
moves down to rub your cock through your boxers, added sensation as he
pushes back in, out, in, out, slowly increasing length, slowly increasing
pleasure. Sweat beads under your fleece as you push back against him, as
his hand reintroduces your cock to the night in long, languid strokes. You
whimper as the feeling builds inside you, the only noise the slap of his
hips against your arse, the only feeling from your groin, no cold, no snow,
just hand and cock and wanking and fucking, teasing, brinking, stroking,
fondling, bringing you almost, so close, nearly, so nearly, please, please,
yes, yes, mmm, mmm, mmmm, yeah, fuck, yeah, god, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck
fuckkkkkkkk..... Your cock shoots ropes of cum over his hand as behind you
he thrusts hard into you, one final time, his own orgasm inside your hot
tight arse, collapsing against you, shaking and panting. Your own legs
collapse, and the two of you fall to the snow-covered ground. You roll onto
your back, arms over your head as he rests his head on your chest.
"God I love your arse." He pulls off your blindfold and smiles at
you. You grin back at him, unable to do anything else as smears his
cum-covered hand over your face.
"Your place or mine?" He asks.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright mattbuck, 2010. Licenced under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No
Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales, version 2.0 (CC-BY-NC-ND-UK-2.0)
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/uk/