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Hello! As a pretext, Beltane is a story that crosses into many different fetishes and dynamics. Two staples you can expect pretty much throughout are gentle femdom and cumplay, but also included are cuckqueaning, piss, maledom, f on m cnc, breeding, and a smattering of more mild things like anal, deepthroating, facesitting, and fishnets. There are also some themes of occultism, ritual, and magic that are less overt and more true to life than fantasy. Beltane has been, and is, an exercise in incorporating and moving between these things rather than leaning on just one. If you’re looking for any of these things individually in abundance, this may not be your favorite story. But if you’re on board for some twists, turns, bodily fluids, and a pagan fucktacular bacchanal across a variety of kinks, well…
This happened my senior year of college. You’ll have to pardon me with the exposition, but I was living with a girl, Ann, who I had been seeing for a few years and it was steadily spiraling. And that is important. For later.
I would come home late. I was working sixteen hour days a lot during that time. I had class from 7 AM until three or four, then I would study or work in a lab where I had a job on campus. Then I would ride my bike down the hill from the university to the Copper Mule, a bar and pool hall where I also worked as a bartender. I’d tend bar until 11, sometimes midnight. I’d come home, Ann would be asleep. And I would be as stiff as a fucking rail with no outlet.
Ann, who was never Anna, nor Annalise, was attractive enough. She was 5’6, had brown hair, and was somewhat buxom. Her tits sagged from having been overweight earlier in life. She had a little extra cushion for the pushin’, which I didn’t mind, but she wore it oddly. She wore sandals and blocky visitor center T-shirts from places she had been. She dressed like a woman in menopause trying to rediscover herself through marijuana and crystals. Outwardly, she had no interest whatsoever in appearing sexy, even when it was just the two of us. I was attracted to her laugh, her sense of humor, and I was convinced she could turn it on when she needed to. Or maybe I just told myself so.
The sex had been decent, if vanilla, in the past. I had on one occasion tied her up and made her come. She liked doing it to me as well, but in a pretty mellow way. She would handcuff me to the bed, blindfold me, and suck my cock. I think she liked watching me writhe. If things had gone differently, she may have developed a femdom streak. Sex was about getting to the orgasm for her though, not the process, the acquisition of it. For her it was simple. She would lie on her back completely still and I would rub her clit. Gently. Slowly. Barely even making contact. The light touch did it every time for her. Then we would fuck. She knew my buttons too. She would whisper in my ear.
“Come inside me. Give it to me. Good, yeah I want you to come inside me.”
And I would. I would pump it deep inside her, feeling her legs lock around me as if she knew I was caught in her web. But almost always sooner than I would have liked, and with no real hurrah. But that didn’t matter to her, we had both gotten to the objective, the “finish line”. That was our ritual.
I wanted more. I would try to initiate, and she would often deny me. She would get high and lounge around in her frumpy pajamas watching Friends. Being frumpy. Being boring. If my hands started to venture over her body she would say she just wanted to cuddle. And then I would be stuck in the monotony of her world, perfectly sufficient for her, but absolutely maddening to me. This would carry on for days, weeks at a time until she knew that I couldn’t take it, and then she would ask me to make her come. Going through the motions. Orgasm. Completing the ritual of satisfaction. And slowly, the frustration was building in me. I felt trapped. I had so much energy, despite the long hours. I wanted to fuck. To pull hair, to beg and be begged for. And I knew that if it wasn’t her, there was someone who would gladly sign up. Look, I’m not a supermodel but I’ve always done fairly well for myself with sexual partners. I’m tall- 6’4, lean and toned, brown hair, green eyes, with a hairy chest and stomach. My cock isn’t the biggest but it’s never let me down, at just a shade under 8″ long (and cut, for the sake of the visual). And it was aching for more.
I admit I didn’t always act right. I would pick fights and blow things out of proportion. Maybe I was looking for a way out. But I was just so pent up. Coming home, 11 o’ clock and dreaming that on the other side of my front door she’d be waiting for me, presenting her pussy for me to taste and fuck. Just once. But no. It was always a dark house and my erection pressing through my pants. Knowing if I tried to roll her over she would be offended, then mad. And then she would deny me even longer. This was the cycle of it. Her allowing me to blow off just enough steam to be able to say she was taking care of my needs. And me festering.
So anadolu yakası escort I said fuck it. I sat on the couch, plugged my headphones into my phone, and dove into the old spank bank. This was a tiny apartment, but I was confident that she was out cold and regardless it was the only time I had to myself. I had to try. So I pulled up some porn and got my prick out and started stroking. I was watching things that I could only fantasize about doing in my real relationship. Women being tied up, fucked in the ass, and begging to cum. Begging. I was masturbating to the freedom of BDSM. Coveting with my whole heart. And throbbing. Rubbing myself with my own precum, the slightest lubrication almost sending me over the edge, and holding on for just another minute. Knowing that I would cover myself in hot ropes of cum the moment I let go, knowing I would have to clean it up, knowing I would have to sneak into bed and pretend I was content to hold what was rapidly becoming a hollow relationship together. And then I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.
She was standing at the end of the hallway looking into the living room at me. I startled and ripped my headphones out of my ears.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I, uh, I’m…”
“Oh my god, I didn’t realize-” she began to realize what was happening as I lowered my phone, to illuminate my member. She hurried back down the hall to the bedroom. I could hear her crying. And just like that it was over. I was soft and I felt guilty. I’m not even sure why. In that moment it was over for me. I couldn’t even masturbate in my own home. But I had to act as a cleanup crew and pull this person back together. To tell her that there was nothing wrong. Because somehow that was the only answer she would take. As if in trying to have an orgasm for myself I was hurting her. This was part of the cycle too. The guilt. To keep it going. And so I went to comfort and reassure her.
Several weeks went by and it ended, I won’t trouble you with how exactly but let’s say it was similar to the masturbation event. Lots of crying. The semester was coming to an end, this being the spring. It ended on Easter, which seemed like a good sign. She started staying at a friend’s, coming back occasionally to feed her cat or pick up things she needed. She was an emotional wreck. The screaming and crying, my god. But mostly the guilt. She ladled it on thickly. How she had tried and tried to do everything she could and I was a selfish piece of shit, blah blah blah. I was over it. Completely disconnected. After six months strong of neglect I just didn’t have any feelings left to offer. I had been exhausted to the point that caring about it was too much work. I downloaded tinder and got ready to put my cock to work after a winter in hibernation.
I was closing up the back bar at the Copper Mule after work one night whistling a tune while sweeping around the pool tables and thinking about what I would do with a nice slut. Oh, I mused, if only I had a nice slut. Someone eager to please. I hung my dry mop up and locked the door to the back bar, my prick at a quarter mast as I ambled up to the front bar for my nightly shift beer. I spied a pretty bleached blonde girl at the end of the bar on her own and decided to sit a few stools down, where I could maybe sneak a peek at her cleavage. I wasn’t confident I would be able to go home with her or even start a conversation, but in my state I just couldn’t resist being close to a pretty thing like her. She was small, maybe 5’4, about a full foot shorter than me, but had nice round B or C cup tits and as I walked past to sit at the bar I noticed her ass and thighs were deliciously thick. Her lip was pierced, she had some visible tattoos peering out from under her sleeves, and black nail polish. Her shirt was low cut and I immediately got the cleavage I had been after. It was clear that she was not wearing a bra and her nipples showed through her shirt somewhat. They were pierced too. She had the immediate air of familiarity about her, but I couldn’t place it. She was looking at her phone and hadn’t noticed me sit down. I ordered a beer and sat back, watching whatever was on TV. My hand gravitated to my phone and I reflexively checked Tinder for the eighth time that day. There were a few new matches after my last bombardment of right swipes, but as I flipped through I noticed one in particular that stood out. It was the girl sitting at the bar next to me. Matched 6 minutes ago. She had swiped on me after I had sat down.
Needless to say my cock nearly broke my zipper. I tried to stay casual, viewing her profile. Her name was Gemma. There were a few pictures, the last of which featured her in fishnet stockings, which I loved, but Ann would never grant me the pleasure of seeing her in. Her bio read:
Send me a
Message, won’t you?
Horror movies and chill. I’ll let you make me breakfast in the morning. “
It was thinly veiled and even a little cliche but the thought that I had a shot with an actual kinky girl had me completely avrupa yakası escort erect under the bar. I leaned forward to hide it. Before I had a chance to decide my next move I got a notification. It was a message from her.
“You come here often?”
I smiled. So she was funny and forward. The jig was up. My cover was blown. I was going to have a conversation with this person whether I was ready or not. I looked up to find her already looking at me. She had dark brown eyes with little flecks of yellow in them. I chuckled and took a drink, bracing myself.
“I work here actually, and I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Is that so? You weren’t just going to ogle my profile and then go home?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on it. I didn’t have a plan really, just sort of hoping for the best. Should I have hit you with a pickup line? You don’t look receptive to that kind of thing.”
She smiled coyly. “No, I think that would have been game over for you. I’m kinda picky. It was just too perfect, you sitting down right as I was admiring your profile.”
Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit. You can close this, I thought. She’s throwing you total ‘do me’ vibes. Just keep it together.
“I’m James,” I offered, extending my hand.
She smiled again and took it. “Gemma. But you already knew that. Are you newly single or something?”
She already had me figured out. “Wh- why would you say that?”
“You just generally don’t shake hands with someone on a tinder date.” DATE!? I thought. “You just seem like you’re kinda rusty.”
“Wow, you’re actually spot on. How do you do that? Yeah I just got out of a long relationship, it’s a total mess but I’m glad to be done. I just needed to get out of there.”
She laughed. “I knew it. I’m a witch is how. Just looking for able bodies to sacrifice, you know.”
I laughed. “Where do I sign? I’m able enough.”
“We’ll see about that. Let’s finish up our interview first.”
“Oh, so first it’s a date, and now it’s an interview?” I laughed again, taking a sizable drink of my beer. I was treading water. “That seems like a downgrade.”
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” she replied, locking eyes with me in a sudden intensity. We hung there for a second. Then she laughed and I realized she was teasing me. I felt like all my cards were showing. Could she see my erection? Please god tell me she can’t see my erection. “No, ‘interview’ is much better. Remember, I’m looking for victims here.”
“Well by all means then,” I stood up and gestured to a nearby table, “should we move to a more professional setting?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
She slid down from the barstool she’d been at, took her drink and her jacket, and sauntered ahead of me. She was wearing skintight leggings and for the first time I got a look at her magnificent ass. There was a small gap between her pants and the hem of her shirt and I could see her dimples of Venus. I watched her ass jiggle the whole way as she led me across the room to a small table against the wall and away from people.
“So, lover boy,” she said as we sat, “what are you looking for?”
“I mean, do you want me to be real about it?” I’d like to see if you can squirt.
“Please. Lay it on me.”
I want to find out if you can deepthroat. “Well I just got out of a long thing, like I said, and to be honest it was brutal.” I wonder if you like getting fucked in the ass. “I just need to get back in the game.” I bet you like it rough. “Meet some new people, try some new things.” I wonder if I’d suffocate if you sat on my face.
She nodded. “What was so brutal about it?”
“It was just all about her. She didn’t care about what I needed or wanted. I don’t really want to get into it.”
“You poor thing. Did she not cup the balls?”
I laughed. She had never once cupped the balls. “No, she didn’t. It’s more than that though. I just want to try new stuff and she’s kind of…..”
“I was going to say boring.”
“Honestly I just don’t fucking care any more. I put up with it for so long. I couldn’t even masturbate in my own home. I’m just so over-“
She grabbed my hand and held onto it. “I hear you. You have a right to be mad. You need what you need. If your partner can’t satisfy your needs they have an obligation to allow you to seek release elsewhere.”
“Is that from something? It sounds like you’re quoting something.”
She laughed again. “Maybe, don’t worry about it. So now you have to tell me what you’re into.”
“What do you mean?” She was still holding my hand in both of hers.
“What is it that she wouldn’t do for you?”
“Oh that. I mean, anything really. I tied her up once, she tied me up a few times, and-“
She cut me off. “Did you like it?”
“When she tied you up. Did you like it?”
“Uh, well. Yeah, I did. I think I’m a switch. I’m usually on top but I like when a girl knows how to take control too.”
Her eyes brightened. “Did she ever play with your ass?”
I was eryaman escort surprised. “No, definitely not. I don’t think I’d like that. We didn’t really do anything beyond some basic bondage. It was pretty lame.”
She looked as if she was restraining herself. “You haven’t asked about me yet,” she invited.
We talked on and drank on. With more social lubricant we got deeper into our fetishes. She was also a switch, but we both considered ourselves more dominant than submissive. There was clearly a lot she was into, and the more I asked the more she confirmed that notion without clarifying a whole lot. It felt like she was saving it for later. I had hovered in and out of a throbbing erection the entire time. We ordered more and more drinks, and before long we were both good and buzzed. And then it was one in the morning. The bartender yelled for last call.
“So how am I doing?” I asked, laughing at a dirty joke she had told.
“In the interview?” I nodded. “You’re hired, lover boy.”
I laughed on. “Well maybe we should meet up again soon.”
She leaned back and looked at me over the rim of her glass. “Or you could take me home and fuck me.”
I considered my living situation. I didn’t know if Ann would be around, but I doubted it. I hadn’t seen her in a week. “That,” I said, touching her leg, “is a tempting offer.”
“Do you live far from here?”
“A block and a half.”
“Are there any good alleyways on the way?”
She laughed. “Come on, take me home. Unless you’re afraid I’ll bite.”
She had given me an out. It was courteous. I was a little nervous about having sex with a new partner for the first time in two years, but I didn’t have any real reservations. This girl was the whole package as far as I was concerned in the moment.
I stood up. “Come with me, little lady.”
I led her out the door. She put on her leather jacket and we took off through the warming April air. We walked through a block, across a wide parking lot.
“Hey, wait,” she said as we passed a parked van.
“What? You gonna throw me in here?”
She pushed me up against the side of it, hard, and kissed me. Thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I grabbed her ass. She grabbed my cock. I was terrified and aroused all at the same time. After so much time not being touched she had me as stiff as a diamond. I could feel a bead of precum on the tip of my cock. Her forwardness was hard to take in all at once.
“Mm. Big boy,” she whispered in my ear. She had started unzipping my fly. “You want to cum on my face? Should we go say hi to your ex?”
I closed my eyes, breathing heavily. She was brushing up against my cock through my underwear and I was twitching with excitement. Suddenly the thought of fucking her on the living room floor while Ann watched us shot into my head. Gemma moaning and coming like I knew she would while Ann got a good taste of how much better than her I could do. I snapped out of it, opening my eyes and grabbing Gemma by the waist. I picked her up, turned her around, and slammed her into the wall of the van. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling my cock against her slit. I bit her lip and pulled, rubbing my cock against where I approximated her clit to be. She sighed breathily.
“You’re gonna look cute with my cock down your throat. Be a good girl and follow me home now.” I had no idea where this was coming from. I had never talked to anyone that way, nor been talked to that way. I guess after such a long time without a good fuck I really did have some pent up energy. I had always wanted to talk to someone that way, but it had always seemed dirty and wrong. But not now. Now I was free.
I set her down suddenly and walked off, wanting to tease her back. I pushed my underwear and dick back into my pants and zipped up. I heard Gemma call for me to wait somewhere behind me. I rounded a corner and saw my apartment window. There was a light on inside. She must have left a lamp on, I thought and continued. Gemma caught up and I grabbed a big handful of her ass.
We finished the walk and stumbled drunk up the stairs to the door. As I fumbled for my keys Gemma got down on her knees and began unbuckling my belt. She had my button undone and my zipper down and she was about to pull my cock out right then and there when we heard something behind us. It was Ann, standing frozen at the top of the stairs. I wasn’t sure what to do. Dumb fucking Ann in her stupid bad t shirt who had bullied me into thinking my wants didn’t matter and then made me feel guilty for it. Who had guilted me into a whole relationship. Who had turned love into pity long after the respect was gone. Who had never once so much as cupped my fucking balls. Suddenly I was overcome with lust. I wanted her to know what it looked like when a real woman sucked cock. I looked down at Gemma. She was smiling naughtily. I pulled my dick out and her expression changed to a mixture of shock and joy. She wanted it. I felt amazing. She opened her mouth and I stuck it in, facefucking her. I could hear her moaning through the wet sloshing of my cock as I rammed it further and further into her mouth. I looked past my prick. She had her hand in her tights. She was rubbing her pussy. I looked over my shoulder at Ann, beet red in the face. Not crying. Not leaving either. Just embarrassed beyond belief.
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