Fellatio Friday: Man of Mystery

Man of Mystery

We sit in traffic and he yells about another offense I’ve committed – the number now too high to keep track of. His hand slaps my face with the graceful pace of an experienced abuser; agile and smart so his prey never sees it coming. My throat burns as words rocket from my mouth in defense, as if I could convince him not to hit me again. The story is always the same and with each incident grows more rage.

The sting in my face makes me forget my place and his hand comes crashing down again; slapping and punching at my head until he feels satisfied with his punishment. My arms wrap my head in protection, waiting to be sure he is done before dropping them to my lap and leaning into the door – defeated, once more. The car inches forward and his hand slaps me again, making my head bounce off the window – his way of being sure he’s gotten his point across.

I can hear the rumble of a motorcycle just beside my door and I attempt to simply drift away into the noise but being so fond of bikes, my curiosity gets the best of me and I must have a look. I keep my head lowered, afraid that I’ll take another hit. My eyes can only rise enough to see the bike in part; a midnight blue beauty sits before me and I know I have to see more, so I raise my head just enough to get the full view.

Never have I seen a bike like it, the way the metal curves and twists, as if it were something created from a dream; custom work at its finest, I noted as my eyes drift up to the man who claims its leather seat as his throne. He is wearing thick boots fashioned with shiny chains, dark jeans and a black hoodie. His face is hidden behind the tinted shield of his helmet but his head is turned in our direction. I force a smile in case he happens to notice me looking and quickly turn away, feeling embarrassed and wondering if he’d possibly witnessed the whole scene.

Another slap hits the side of my head and I’m pulled from my thoughts as he yells at me to pay attention. I wipe away a few tears while I beg him to stop, with a bowed head, when my door flies open; a large, leather clad hand grips my arm and pulls me from the car with the greatest of care. The driver’s door flies open and out he charges toward the mysterious biker who stands with unwavering confidence, before delivering a knockout punch in one graceful blow.

The mysterious biker lifts his helmet enough to spit on his bleeding face, before turning back to me – face hidden beneath his shield again. He strolls back over to the bike as if this were an everyday event and straddles the now, vibrating metal. He pulls a helmet from the back and holds it in my direction. The object works like a magnet and I find myself being drawn towards him. My heart races as I weigh the options; hesitating to put the helmet on but I take it from his hand and with one look back, I place it on my head.

I slide a leg in behind him and slip on the back of the bike, placing my hands gently on his sides. His hands, easily double the size of mine, wrap my hands up tight as he pulls my arms around him – as if I were his personal seat belt to wear. My head rests on his back as I feel the rev of his engine between my thighs and the bike speed off; leaving life as I know it, fading into the distance as we drift away from the scene.

Though I have always been fond of motorcycles, I have never been on one, so I squeeze my eyes shut and hold him with every ounce of strength I’ve got – shaken from the recent event and flooded with a rush of adrenaline. I can feel as the bike weaves between the traffic and my stomach threatens to betray me but soon the bustle of city noise falls away and the ride becomes smooth, allowing the churning of my stomach to settle.

I open my eyes to see the hillside going by as we drift through the winding back roads. We dart off the paved road and head down a path carved through the forest, as the sun begins to fade in an orange blaze, behind the trees. The fallen autumn leaves are tossed up in the breeze as we pass them  – crunching the ones unlucky enough to fall in our path. The bike slows as we enter the yard of a rustic log cabin and he pulls us into a small red barn that appears to be more workshop than barn.

I release my grip, bringing my hands to his broad shoulders as I slip off the back. He steps off the bike and turns to face me, still shrouded by the mystery of his helmet. I remove mine and hold it out for him to take, hoping he will remove his as well and finally reveal himself to me. Instead, he takes the helmet I hold and turns his back to me, replacing it on the back of the bike before he pulls his own helmet off.

The hair he had twisted up and hidden beneath his helmet now lay down his back and I step to the side in attempt to see his face but again, he turns away. “I can take you anywhere you’d like but I have a feeling you might not have a place to go, so I brought you here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” He grumbles through a thick rough voice that shakes my soul at its very core.

“You’re right, I don’t have anywhere to go but back home and that’s the last place I want to be. Thank you.” I muster out through trembling voice and bowed head; ashamed to admit a truth he very well, already knew. “He’s not always like that. I just have a tendency to get on his nerves. I bring it on myself in most cases. You’d think by now, I’d know better.” I say, unsure of who I’m truly trying to convince.

He responds with a grunt and throws his satchel over his shoulder as he turns to leave the barn. I try to catch a glimpse of his face, but he dodges my attempt and stays well hidden beneath his hair as he slips through the door, heading towards the dark cabin. I follow behind, keeping my distance and questioning my decision. I don’t know this man; he could kill me, but then again, home had the same odds.

I stand with my back pressed against the door as he walks in and switches the lights on. I had no preconceived notion of what the inside would look like as we walked up, but it didn’t stop me from finding myself taken aback when the lights came on and  revealed the most beautiful pieces of wood carved furniture, I have ever seen. Even the cabin walls are covered in majestic forest scenes, that include the tiny details of woodland creatures and fish in the streams – the home itself appears to be a work of art and heart.

“There’s a room at the end of the hall, you can stay in and there are clothes in the closet that should fit, you look to be about her size. There’s a bathroom in there as well, feel free to make yourself at home.” His voice makes me jump and I turn to face him – his back is still turned to me and I can’t help but wonder why he refuses to face me but I fear pressing the issue, still unsure of the person who stands before me.

I squeak out another thank you and slip down the hall, disappearing through the furthest door and feel along the wall for a switch. The light pops on with a dim glow that brings an extra layer of warmth to the room, which is adorned with the same beautiful works of art that fill the living room – from furniture to carved walls.  I cross the room to an open door and peer into the bathroom which is barely touched by the rooms pale light, but moon beams pour in through a sky light that highlights a large, antique, claw foot tub.

I spot candles on the counter and light a few, placing them along the bench that lines the tub. I peel my clothes from my aching body, avoiding my eerie reflection in the mirror; unwilling to catch a glimpse of the scars I’ve accumulated over the years, each a memory I just as well could forget and the bruises that seem to never heal had become my personal road-map of hell, each one I’d come to know all too well – better than the lines of my own hands.

I fill the tub as my head pounds from the throbbing, of the swelling under my eye and the lumps that lay hidden beneath my hairline, like a crown of thorns given for my sins – all throbbing with the ache of a long, painful day. I carefully slip into the steaming hot water, frothy with lavender-scented bubbles that pulls my ache to the surface; an ache that had come to settle deep in my bones – cracking my foundation and making my structure weak.

I never realized how much the pain had come to feel like another piece of me – a part that had come to feel like it belonged, fooling me into believing it was the way life was meant to be. I cry tears of joy for the first time in years as the word “free” flashes through my mind. I’m filled with the fear of having nothing and no one but the simple thought of freedom is enough to stop those worries in their tracks. It didn’t matter if I had nowhere to go or no possessions of my own, I was finally free of living my days in terror and that is worth more to me than anything or anyone in the world.

I lay in the tub until I begin to doze and the water starts to run cold; no longer pulling the ache from my bones. I dry with a towel so fluffy it could easily be confused for a cloud and then wrap it around my dripping hair. I debate searching for clothes but my exhaustion from the day’s events, makes up my mind for me and I pull a plush robe from the back of the door; cuddling into it like you would a soft over-sized blanket, on a cold winter’s morning.

I walk out of the bathroom and head straight for the king-sized, four post bed that wears the finest of lace curtains to hide the mattress from sight, as if the bed were a room all its own. I slip between the lace and curl into a ball beneath the robe; taking no mind of pillows or proper direction – the fetal position in the center of what feels like heaven is fine with me. Nestled warm and safe, I fade off fast to sleep with hope for a better tomorrow.

My eyes open and for a moment I wonder where I am, then it all comes rushing back to me. A noise in the corner draws my attention and I can just make out his form through the curtains. He’s sitting in an arm-chair, watching me as I wake and I gasp as I catch a glimpse of his face in the light; leaving me to feel wretched on the inside as he promptly turns away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t think you’d wake for awhile.” He mumbles into the corner. I rise from the bed and without word, cross the room to his chair. I gently pull his face in my direction; my insides twist as the scars come into light – scars I recognize to be burns. I run my fingers over the scars, taking note of every twist and turn that runs along the left side of his face. I could see the pain in his eyes as if each line I touch is a memory he’d just as soon forget – a feeling I fully understood, though I doubt he knows it.

I pull the long plush robe up enough to let my knees free; placing one knee on each side of him in the chair and straddling his lap. I place my hands on his face and pull him to me; tasting his lips as soon as they were close enough to meet mine.  I pull back and trail off along his cheek, over the scars – wishing I had the power to take it all away for him, this man who rode up and rescued me on his steed made of steel.

He sits stiff, his hands cling to the chairs arms as he stares off into the distance. I don’t know his story but his hard exterior and seeping sadness, leads me to believe whatever hardship he has faced, is still very fresh in his mind. I slowly untie the robe and open it wide before I grab his hands and pull them inside. I wrap the two of us up tight; his face presses into my bare chest as his head hides beneath the plush fabric. We sit taking comfort in one another until the sun begins to peak in and fill the room with a soft, pink glow.

I want so badly to ask what happened to him and the girl he must have loved more than anything in the world; after all, he did keep all her stuff, she must have been very important to him.  I skip asking though, in fear I’ll ruin whatever moment it is that we seem to be having. I kiss the top of his head then push my hands against his shoulders, breaking his hold on me as I push him back in the chair.

Something in me yearns to make him feel better; to thank him for saving me from the choking hold of a worthless man. I slip the robe off of my arms and toss it to the side before I place my hands on his neck, bringing my thumbs under his chin as I raise his face to meet mine. I take note of his clouded grey eyes as I take in the full features of his face for the first time; he wants to pull away and his eyes dodge mine but I refuse to let him and instead, lock him in place with a slow, seductive kiss.

I run my lips over his chin, past his Adam’s apple and down to his chest as I climb out of the chair and kneel before him. I pop the button of his jeans and carefully unzip over the growing bulge in his pants. I pull his cock free and we lock eyes, holding our gaze as I lower my lips to his tip; letting my tongue pass through as I circle his thick, deep-ridge, defined head.

I force his cock back and run my tongue beneath his shaft; teasing him with the graceful dance of my tongue, being sure to take the time to twirl it around his head like a tiny stripper dancing on his pole. I wrap him in my fist and pull his head into my mouth, stroking and sucking on his mouth-filling cock – his head alone, threatens to tear the corners of my mouth and sends sharp pains through my jaw. When I can hear the click of my jaw bones and I can no longer stand the pain, I pull him from my mouth and opt to switch between pumping his cock with both fists – still unable to cover his shafts full length – and licking him like a large, dripping, cock flavored, ice cream cone.

I lean back and pull at his hands, signaling him to stand. I pull his pants and boxers down, then push him back into the chair, as I remove them the rest of the way and toss them aside – giving me full access to his lengthy cock and plump balls. I tease his giant head as I stroke his cock and tug on his balls; increasing the force of my pull and grip – taking him to the place where ones highest pleasure teeters on the brink of arousing discomfort. I bring him to the edge of orgasm and then pull him back again until his body begins to shake and his grunts turn to moans.

My pussy grows wetter the more I bounce, squatted between his legs and I become overtaken by a deep hunger to feel his massive cock stretching my tight pussy. I want to feel the ache of him penetrating me and the burn of him repeatedly forcing himself through my narrow, throbbing vaginal walls. I climb into the chair and stand straddling him; my smooth, hot, wet pussy presented before his face for the taking.

His hands grip my ass as he pulls me closer; burying his face deep between my pussy lips. He takes a moment to breathe in my scent; taking me in as if until now, pussy had only been a memory he desperately wished to revisit. He drives his tongue deep into my pussy, savoring my flavor like a well-aged wine; he kisses my pussy just as passionately as he had kissed my lips when I first climbed on top of him.

I grab his hair and pull him from the depths of me as I lower myself down – squinting over his lap with his large head pressing against my tight hole. I balance with my hands on his shoulders as I lightly bounce on his head, slowly working him into my wet pussy. I ache as the girth of his head grows the further I inch him into me until his head breaks full penetration. I moan as a strike like lightning shoots through my pussy and crashes with a tidal wave of arousal that brews a storm deep in my gut.

I swivel my hips, rotating my pussy around his stiff, throbbing shaft as if I were sliding down a corkscrew – in an attempt to loosen my pussy’s firm, suctioning grip. He grows impatient with my teasing lap dance and leans me back. I wrap my legs around him as he stands, lifting me, still settled on his hard cock. I bite my lip, holding back moans as he walks us across the room, pushing further into the depths of me.

He carries me over to the bed and pulls the lace curtain back with one hand as he takes a knee between the opening; he releases the curtain, letting it fall closed behind him while he balances with one hand and lowers us onto the bed – pushing himself so deep inside me, I could swear I felt him in my stomach. I use my legs hold around him to pull myself up to meet him, working my hips as he slowly slides in and out of my aching pussy.

He pushes back and breaks my legs hold on him; he grabs my calves and pushes my legs up, bringing my knees to the sides of my head as he ravages me with intense vigor. My cries of enjoyment echo off the walls and fills my ears as his cock pierces my flesh like a hot iron rod that heats my insides and leaves a chill on the skin while I quiver beneath him.

His lips leave a trail of kisses over my breasts and up my chest until they come to meet my lips in a whirl wind of pent-up passion while he drives himself into me. He pulls my legs together and pushes them down to meet the bed, rotating me to my side as he forces his way in and out. I shake before him on the bed as the building heat in me boils over and I explode in a full body vibration that covers his cock in my warm juices.

He pushes me from my side on over to my stomach where he slides his hands under my hips and lifts my ass in the air; he pops his large head in and out of my tight hole and with each new penetration, waves of ecstasy run up my body and burst into a million sensations that over take my nervous system and send me into an uncontrollable fit of screaming and shaking as I dig into the bed, in attempts of regaining myself.

He places a hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me into the mattress as he falls down on top of me; he wraps his arms under me and grips my shoulders, using them as an anchor as he drives himself deep , drilling me as I scream into the sheets. Using his weight he rolls us to our side and my hips gyrate on his shaft as he now slides smoothly through me, pressing into my belly the deeper he drives. His hand squeezes my side as his muscles tense and my pussy contracts around his shaft, we pick up pace, grinding into one another until we can no longer hold off the urge to cum and our bodies jerk in unison as he fills me with his hot load.

We lay panting, him still inside of me as we bask in the warmth that has come to fill the room, as if our bodies were a furnace burning solely on the friction of our lust. He keeps me pulled in close to him with arms wrapped tightly around me, filling me with the same comfort of a warm, familiar blanket. With him I feel secure and smile into the bright morning light; unsure of where my life will go but happy that my future now lay free and open before me, mine for the taking once again.

(Man Of Mystery Continues)

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