Italian Stallion

The Italian Stallion and let me assure you he is. He was my first. First from Fet and first kinky date.

The first of our encounters was a few months ago. We both knew what was going to happen if we had the chemistry of course. I walk into a local cocktail bar that I’ve only been to once so feel there is low risk of bumping into someone I know and spot him instantly. He is 37, Italian, silver haired, not hot but sexy. As we chat over high alcoholic cocktails all I notice are his hands. They’re big, manly and I cant wait to feel them on my body. We eventually get the drugs chat out the way which is always a breaker and head to his for a spliff. I have done a bump or 2 to calm me (it doesn’t at all but I have convinced myself that it does).

We sit in his cosy, modest flat, which is very close to the bar thus close to my home, and drink and smoke. As a non smoker I feel a rush of giddiness and the smile on my face more difficult to wipe. I mention something about my best asset, yes pun intended, and he starts his commands… here we go.

“Stand up and show me”

I slowly stand and he knows I am nervous. As I take a large gulp of the mid range wine in front of me. He forcefully puts my arms behind my back. “I wont tie them up this time but Don’t move them.”

“Yes Sir” I say quietly. I have lost any volume as he walks around me a glares at what is his (I make him believe at least). He suddenly puts his large hands on the top of my skirt and tight and grips hard making me bend slightly. Suddenly he pulls them down to just below my round arse.

“mmm that’s is nice” his Italian accent runs over me as his hand brushes me. The skin on skin makes me wet. SLAP! He spanks me hard and I wince but get more turned on. My hand grips my elbow as his grip my hair in a tight fist. He kisses me hard and I can taste the weed on his tongue. Pulling my head by the hair to the side, he whispers in my ear, “I love your arse. It’s mine now,”

“yes Sir” I reply as he kisses me down my neck to my small erect nipple. He squeezes the other hard and it makes my face frown with a inhalation of breath. He hits and pulls them hard. It’s a sensation I have never experienced before; It’s a pain but pleasure. I want him to stop but once he does I want more. His hand dives between my thighs. “you’re wet” He smirks, “you like the pain, you little slut” Oh god why did you stop?!

He steps back and his eyes follow my silhouette. “Take it all off”

Sobriety blasts through and I come out of character. I explain about my diabetes, the cannula and pump. I let him see the pump attached to my bra before putting the basal to 0% and unhook from my body. He is totally un phased, only checking if im ok to take it off. “You have an hour.”

And im back in character, as is he. My heart races as he walks back behind me from another toke and taking something off the kitchen wall. It’s a leather riding crop.

He strokes it across the red marks already on my skin. It connects to my skin like a branding, It stings over and over until I hear his belt un-buckle and the crop fall to the floor. He teases again, letting the cold metal sooth the tingle rushing to the surface. The leather slaps around my bruises over until I wince in bitter sweet pain. His fingers feel how wet he has made me. “You like it you little Slut”

“No, Sir” I risk with a reply.

He holds my face close to his, pushing his body into mine. He is just as excited.

“What the fuck do you mean, no?!”

“I am YOUR little slut, Sir”

He lets go of my face and smiles. He sits on the couch as he quickly joins my naked position and summons me with his big hands. They certainly match his hard cock. It’s intimidating, but I go over, concentrating on my few steps as the weed courses. I put my knees either side of his hips and slowly lower. I kiss him gently and harder as he guides my hips up and down. He is big, pleasurably big. As I put my head against his cheek I moan and lick his ear and he whispers, “You av a tight pussy, I like” He spanks me with his big hand again. Makes me ride him harder and faster until he throws me down to the floor to my knees. His breathing gets louder and my hand goes to tickle his balls and he moans loudly. He quickly finishes on my face and lets me suck the remains and I thank him.

“Good girl”

The 2 most powerful words to a submissive.

I go and wash up, put my lace underwear and pump back on and back into the open plan living area. I walk over to the wine and fill up again. I can feel his eyes admire his work and I take both glasses back over to him. We make slurring small talk as we finish the wine. I giggle and blush a lot. I take the glasses back to the kitchen and turn back at him. He is stood up and kisses me hard. “Mmmm. On your knees.” I obey. “Follow me. I crawl on my hands and knees to his bedroom, where he lifts me into his desired position on the bed. First I am face up hanging over the bed where he fucks my face and finger fucks my still wet cunt. He doesn’t touch my pump just pushes the lace to one side   I cum hard. And he pulls me back onto the bed and flips me. Face down he straddles me, strokes his work. “naughty. You didn’t ask permission to do that. Stay facing down but pull your panties as far down as you can.” His Italian accent is accentuated by either his wine or mine. (I think this may be so that I sort my pump out. I take it off but don’t bother adjusting the basal this time, so not to kill the mood totally). I wriggle the black lace to my thighs and they keep my legs together He fucks me hard from behind, with a fist full of hair and a hand wrapped around my neck. I quickly start to beg to let me cum. “Oh you want to cum again my little slut? No, not yet”

I bite and grip the pillow. His rhythm increases and he is close. “Ok, cum my little slut. Cum for your master” I do as I am told as he releases my throat. My body shakes as his does too and he collapses on top of me. His weight is warming. He slides off and to sort himself out and returns to me in a ball on the slightly wet patch underneath me, gets under the duvet and puts his arm around me to pull me in. I feel safe, but shouldn’t. I don’t know him after all.

We wake early and repeat, not quite so rough as he admires his now purplesque bruising. He his happy.

I leave with a Strong Italian coffee inside me and very painful breasts. It’s a pain that I don’t like they are so tender even a sports bra hurts. I don’t know if I will see him again…. However he is so close to my home.