Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 74: The gates of horn

The bed seemed huge. It had to extend across at least an acre. Raylene was there, and so was Bellie, one on each side of me, dressed in sex-life-in-ancient-Rome tunics that left them more than Hollywood naked. They were striking dancers’ poses, as if they were in a Victorian painting. Bellie’s ass was as red as Raylene’s, which was odd. I didn’t remember taking the razor strop to her. 

There was something happening between the two of them, far away at the foot of the bed. The sheets churned and Lynette emerged, slowly crawling towards my feet. She was crawling like a snake, not an infant, so that her belly touched the bottom sheet and I couldn’t see her breasts as well as I’d have liked. She was a more slender girl, and I watched the gap between her breasts and the working of her shoulders and upper arms as she approached. Her expression was serious, as if she had an important message for me.

True dreams come through the Gates of Horn

True dreams are supposed to come through the Gates of Horn, but you should never trust mythology

Bellie lowered her head, still dancer-like, and kissed my cock. The kiss was one of those magic ones you read about in fairy stories: it woke my cock from its sleep. It started to stretch. Then Raylene swooped elegantly, taking my glans into her mouth. When I was hard they retreated, taking their original places beside me, to leave the field for Lynette.

Lynette reached my feet and didn’t stop. She climbed up my body – she was a slight girl – and clambered aboard. If she still had a message for me, she was going to impale herself on my cock and sit and rock before she delivered it.

I tried to move my hips and found there was some obstacle. I couldnt move. So I moved harder, and the convolsive jolt of my body and brain brought me back to Raylene’s bed, which was the size of an smallish double bed, and didn’t contain Bellie or Lynette. 

But Raylene lay beside me, so it was still a good and happy bed. She’d released her grip on my cock and rolled onto her side, facing away with her ass pushed against me. So the erection had still woken her. She moved her ass, luxuriously, against my cock. It was jabbing into her left buttock and wanting to find and burrow into the space between her buttocks.

It was dark. Raylene’s bedroom got no light from the street and there was no moonlight. to lying with her ass against my belly. She rolled towards me so our heads were close together. I kissed her. I supposed she could see enough to see that it was me. She smiled and kissed me back. She said, “Good mor – No, what time is it?”

“I don’t know. Who cares? And I’m still sir, girl.” 

She considered that. Perhaps she hadn’t remembered yesterday. Not yet. But she said, “Sir. Uh, let’s – “

"You should be stronger than me"

“You should be stronger than me”

There was no need to say anything more, and she didn’t. I kissed her again, slipping my hand down to stroke her cunt. Actually, that was to disguise a wetness text. Raylene more than passed. (Had she had a sexual dream too?) She rolled onto her side, my fingers still in her, wonderfully womanly wet, and she pushed her ass at me.

I said, “No. Onto your back, girl.”

Raylene grunted and rolled back, pulling on my shoulder to bring my body down on her. I remembered someone singing, “I just wanna rip your body onto mine.” It was the way she’d sung “rip” that made it sexy.

I fucked Raylene as gently as I could, while she held me with her thighs, and her hands on my shoulders, looking up at me, reading my face. I wanted it to feel as loving as it was. We had things to talk about afterwards. 

 

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