As most regular readers will know, I am a boy. A fully equipped boy. Telling the time, never too quickly … sorry, I’ve been on my own for too long.
Anyway, I’m complete with penis, testicles (admittedly I’ve an above average number of them) and a bottom. Like many young boys of my age, I’m not averse to experimenting with my bottom. Over the years, various ladies have taken delight in either inserting things into my bottom or forcing me to do it whilst they watched (and occasionally wanked themselves).
However in the last year, this has taken on a new meaning. My bottom, along with all of my other little boy parts, actually belong to someone, my lady, my lover, my Domme. Together we somehow came to the realisation that it was less of a bottom and more of an actual cunt. It’s for fucking. It’s for her to fuck me with. If I’m lucky. If I’m unlucky, it’s for raping. She has ‘toys’, strap-on toys with the smaller size used for fucking, the larger for raping. One is for our mutual pleasure, the other, purely for hers. Sometimes the ‘raping’ cock is to teach me a lesson, to bring me back into line, to put me in my place. I need that sometimes (I know and with me being so good all the time)!
But she has been gone now for over a week. Across on nearly the other side of the world, eight time zones away. She won’t be back for another week either. Over two weeks without being ‘had’.
Which will cause two effects. Firstly, oh gosh how I miss it. I miss being held down, made to suck on her cock, miss feeling my cunt being lubed up, miss feeling her taking me, ploughing her cock into me, grabbing my hair, slapping me, calling me her bitch and making love to be.
Secondly of course, it also means, that I’ll be out of practise. My cunt won’t have seen any action for a while when she gets back. If I’m lucky, she’ll only want to fuck me. If I’m not, she’ll want to rape me and ye gods that’ll make me scream.
I was tempted to do something about it. Tempted to take a dildo to bed, or a cucumber. Tempted to fuck myself, to alleviate my need. But I resisted. When she takes me, I want it to hurt. I want to feel that she’s taking what is hers. I want her to know that nothing else and no-one else has had me whilst she’s been away. At some point she’ll reclaim me, take what is hers to take and mine to freely give.
Whether it’s fucking or raping, she’ll be loving me. Whether I’m sticking my cunt up in the air and begging for it or biting the pillow (or grass) knowing it’s going to hurt like hell, it’ll still be a moment of great love and passion. We will both need it.
So no temptation is going to lure me. No greengrocer’s display of beautiful corn-on-the-cob is going to tempt me. I’m saving myself for her return.
And on the day, I’ll be so nervous, not knowing which it’ll be, but craving either. Craving the chance to be hers and to be taken and held on to and owned.
So I’m saving myself.