u/UpstairsSeas

We affectionately call it Seabiscuit, because, accordingly, it looks and is sized like a horse's cock, and Seabiscuit was the first horse that came to mind. (And really, probably the only famous horse we could think of.) Unlike the racehorse, though, Seabiscuit is a fluorescent teal, and while that wouldn't personally have been my color of choice, all other options were sold out, and we didn't want to wait after setting eyes on its web store page. So Seabiscuit had made its expedited one business day shipping journey from whatever factory it was mass produced in for degenerates like us to our front doorstep, where it was now firmly lodged deep inside my ass, stretching my poor hole around its cheerfully colorful girth.

"Take it, slut!" The words hang in the air, interspersing with the rhythmic clap of skin on skin and frequent chaotic bursts of human voices, a wild mix of encouragement, demands, begging, and a whole host of other incomprehensible sounds. Not that I'm able to really register much. My head is swimming and I'm not even sure who's making what sound, much less able to fully comprehend English.

I could feel just fine, though. Your fingers digging into my leg, the other hand gripping my shoulder, the bed pressing against my arching back, sheets desperately scrunched underneath my palms. And, of course, the dense piece of thickly lubed silicone currently pummeling my insides.

"Fuuuck!" I yelp. I'm not sure I even fuck you this hard - not for lack of trying - and my own fully erect cock bounces on tempo, dripping and smearing big splotches of precum all around my pelvis. You're angling just right, the strapon's ridges prancing over my loosening entrance as my body contorted in pleasure. "Stay put," you hiss, though not entirely unkindly, both hands now bearing down on my spread thighs, pressing me down into the bed. My legs are getting a thorough stretch now, in the air and half folded as I lay at the edge of the bed, and somewhere vaguely in the back of my mind I'm cursing my limited flexibility.

Not that it really mattered. You're an artist with the instrument that you had made Seabiscuit, my body absolutely singing with mind bending pleasure. I could smell your musk in the air, telling me that yes, you are indeed enjoying this as much as I am, while you rock your harness covered hips up into me over and over. I'm moaning, gasping, reaching out for you as you fuck me the way I needed to be fucked, burying yourself inside me rubbery balls deep, every muscle between two bodies flexing and straining, until-

I cum so hard that you swear you can hear a string of splurt noises as I explode all over myself, thick white ropes streaking everywhere as my vision distorts with stars. My legs wrap around you, pulling you closer to me as my body convulses in release. My mouth opens in a noiseless gasp, the strapon finally coming out in a sweet, sticky mess, (probably leaving my hole in a similar shape to my mouth), and all at once, I'm acutely aware of everything around me again.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck," is all I'm able to manage, chest heaving, eyes still closed. "Oh, fuck." I can feel you pressing delightfully against me, your similarly labored breathing tickling my skin as you also try to catch your breath. Finally looking down, we share a giggle as I survey the damage, one arm wrapping around your pleasantly heated body. "Oh, fuck."

"Can we go again?"

---

Hope you had fun if you read this far. Open to just a chat or roleplay.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been thinking about what happened all week long.

At this point, though, it was much more anxious worrying than fond reminiscing. Not a single word from you since that night. Did I do something wrong? Did I show too much of myself? Was I too eager, too keen to slide my tongue up those heels I've watched for so long, to trail kisses up those perfect legs? And I mean, really, how many women actually enjoy watching a man arch his back, precum dribbling out with every stroke, only able to let out soft incomprehensible sounds of pleasure as he rode her into the small hours of dawn?

Okay, fine, to be fair you did have a strapon ready to go of your own volition.

Was it just a one night stand then? Did I fuck this up? But surely you saw it too - how perfectly your words sculpted me, how each soft "good boy" coaxed out what we both knew was already inside, my desires meshing with your wants.

Trying to firmly push aside the spiraling doubt, I returned my glazed over eyes to the screen in front of me, the surrounding office noise crashing back into focus. I really was behind, that stack of email notifications wasn't going to reply to themselves, maybe I should get a coffee--

Bzzt.

My phone, your name.

Well, fuck. I was just about to start being productive.

---

Kinks: pegging, outfits/heels, all different shades of femdom, cuddling, cock milking, worship, and lots more. Open to chat or roleplay.

Look at you. Wearing that little outfit, looking proper and presentable. Walking around, shaking hands, smiling sweetly, and charming the hell out of whoever is lucky enough to talk to you.

You're certainly not thinking about the last time you wore those heels, are you? Because they definitely weren't on the ground that time - quite the opposite. What about that same dress, flowing and swishing over your body so perfectly right now? It was on, sure, but most definitely covering a lot less surface area. Or how about the sounds that accompanied those memories? The murmurs into your ear, your desperate moans, the slick of skin on skin.

But I am. I'm thinking about all of that, and more, as I watch you flit from unsuspecting person to unsuspecting person. I'm thinking of how I decided what you were going to wear today, about how I wanted you just looking at you. About how that outfit looks askew, covered in temptation - somehow looking both very different from and the same as how it looks right now.

In any case, believe me, in a few short hours we'll make all that happen again.

---

Kinks: outfits (lingerie, office outfits, eveningwear, clubwear, costumes, etc.), high heels, stockings, cum on clothes, outercourse/thighjobs/legjobs/footjobs with heels on, crossed legs, cumwalks, clothed sex, teasing in public. Open to a continuation of the prompt, chatting about continuation ideas, or just discussing outfits/heels.

We affectionately call it Seabiscuit, because, accordingly, it looks and is sized like a horse's cock, and Seabiscuit was the first horse that came to mind. (And really, probably the only famous horse we could think of.) Unlike the racehorse, though, Seabiscuit is a fluorescent teal, and while that wouldn't personally have been my color of choice, all other options were sold out, and we didn't want to wait after setting eyes on its web store page. So Seabiscuit had made its expedited one business day shipping journey from whatever factory it was mass produced in for degenerates like us to our front doorstep, where it was now firmly lodged deep inside my ass, stretching my poor hole around its cheerfully colorful girth.

"Take it, slut!" The words hang in the air, interspersing with the rhythmic clap of skin on skin and frequent chaotic bursts of human voices, a wild mix of encouragement, demands, begging, and a whole host of other incomprehensible sounds. Not that I'm able to really register much. My head is swimming and I'm not even sure who's making what sound, much less able to fully comprehend English.

I could feel just fine, though. Your fingers digging into my leg, the other hand gripping my shoulder, the bed pressing against my arching back, sheets desperately scrunched underneath my palms. And, of course, the dense piece of thickly lubed silicone currently pummeling my insides.

"Fuuuck!" I yelp. I'm not sure I even fuck you this hard - not for lack of trying - and my own fully erect cock bounces on tempo, dripping and smearing big splotches of precum all around my pelvis. You're angling just right, the strapon's ridges prancing over my loosening entrance as my body contorted in pleasure. "Stay put," you hiss, though not entirely unkindly, both hands now bearing down on my spread thighs, pressing me down into the bed. My legs are getting a thorough stretch now, in the air and half folded as I lay at the edge of the bed, and somewhere vaguely in the back of my mind I'm cursing my limited flexibility.

Not that it really mattered. You're an artist with the instrument that you had made Seabiscuit, my body absolutely singing with mind bending pleasure. I could smell your musk in the air, telling me that yes, you are indeed enjoying this as much as I am, while you rock your harness covered hips up into me over and over. I'm moaning, gasping, reaching out for you as you fuck me the way I needed to be fucked, burying yourself inside me rubbery balls deep, every muscle between two bodies flexing and straining, until-

I cum so hard that you swear you can hear a string of splurt noises as I explode all over myself, thick white ropes streaking everywhere as my vision distorts with stars. My legs wrap around you, pulling you closer to me as my body convulses in release. My mouth opens in a noiseless gasp, the strapon finally coming out in a sweet, sticky mess, (probably leaving my hole in a similar shape to my mouth), and all at once, I'm acutely aware of everything around me again.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck," is all I'm able to manage, chest heaving, eyes still closed. "Oh, fuck." I can feel you pressing delightfully against me, your similarly labored breathing tickling my skin as you also try to catch your breath. Finally looking down, we share a giggle as I survey the damage, one arm wrapping around your pleasantly heated body. "Oh, fuck."

"Can we go again?"

---

Hope you had fun if you read this far. Open to just a chat or roleplay.

Look at you. Wearing that little outfit, looking proper and presentable. Walking around, shaking hands, smiling sweetly, and charming the hell out of whoever is lucky enough to talk to you.

You're certainly not thinking about the last time you wore those heels, are you? Because they definitely weren't on the ground that time - quite the opposite. What about that same dress, flowing and swishing over your body so perfectly right now? It was on, sure, but most definitely covering a lot less surface area. Or how about the sounds that accompanied those memories? The murmurs into your ear, your desperate moans, the slick of skin on skin.

But I am. I'm thinking about all of that, and more, as I watch you flit from unsuspecting person to unsuspecting person. I'm thinking of how I decided what you were going to wear today, about how I wanted you just looking at you. About how that outfit looks askew, covered in temptation - somehow looking both very different from and the same as how it looks right now.

In any case, believe me, in a few short hours we'll make all that happen again.

---

Kinks: outfits (lingerie, office outfits, eveningwear, clubwear, costumes, etc.), high heels, stockings, cum on clothes, outercourse/thighjobs/legjobs/footjobs with heels on, crossed legs, cumwalks, clothed sex, teasing in public. Open to a continuation of the prompt, chatting about continuation ideas, or just discussing outfits/heels.