The place was an old Victorian flat in the heart of the French Quarter. Dark oak walls and ceilings, with expensive furnishings all around. This was a big change from the living environment Rickie was accustomed to. He’d slept outdoors with his group of gutter-punk friends the night prior.
Naked, Rickie stepped into a library off the main hallway. Across the large room, stood an eighteen-by-eighteen foot wall full of shelved books. From top to bottom, stood a rolling ladder on wheels. Two comfortable chairs, with a table, sat on a round expensive throw-rug in the middle of the room. A single small lamp, tassels hanging from the lampshade, dimly lit the library.
On the table, Rickie noticed a square crystal carafe, with a large ball corking the top. Inside the vessel, was what he assumed to be brown liqueur. He went over, hands shaking – pulled the cork loose and turned the square bottle up. After two large gulps, Rickie returned the cork. As he set the carafe back down, his head shook his head violently at the assault from the bourbon.
Rickie sat in one of the chairs and threw his leg up over the arm. For a moment, he thought of how his musky asshole was marking the fabric of the chair. That same thought aroused him, and his young fuckstick started to fill with blood. His dick was still tender from the tattoo he’d gotten last month after turning eighteen. On the top of his cock, in the middle, was a single bright red cherry, with a stem and two leaves.
As the skin stretched, the sight of this vibrant tattoo coming-to-life, stimulated him further. Beyond horny, he seeped a large drop of bourbon-flavored saliva from his pouty lips onto the bulbous head of his amazing tool. In the silence, the squishy sound of his fingers stroking amused him further.
Rickie was a fun-sized lover, with a cock that was oddly large for a man his size. He knew this, because he’d taken it out at a party once – and everyone gasped. Then smiles filled the room.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cum, or just sit and play. Just then, the older bull who owned the place, peeked in the doorway.
“Hello darling.”
Rickie nodded and continued to masturbate.
“I’m making chicory coffee. Join me in the kitchen when you’re through.”
Rickie brought his leg down, took another shot of bourbon, and headed for the kitchen.
The kitchen was grand, with hanging pots of every sort over an island, and a wide window above a country sink.
He joined the bull at the island and waited on the coffee. The the broad-shouldered bull was busying himself arranging items in the kitchen just so.
The bull started, “I’ve always had this fantasy. A fetish, so to speak.”
Rickie cut his eye at the square-jawed stud who was easily twice his size.
“Baby, it’s all right. I want you to wash the dishes.”
Still looking at the bull, Rickie went over to the sink. Inside, he saw three glasses and two small saucers. He lifted the faucet handle and let the water run hot. The stud watched, as a breath of exhilaration pushed out of his lungs. His cock stretched his black bikini bottoms out to a tent, leaving a triangle-shaped window were the underwear should have been touching his flat stomach.
As Rickie squeezed some soap onto the sponge, he felt the bull’s hands parting his ass cheeks. Without any kissing or tenderness, the bull’s tongue breached Rickie’s anus. Rickie didn’t react. The soapy sponge moved through one glass, and then another – as Rickie peered out the window. He still didn’t react when the stud’s swollen cock made entry into his love-pouch. Rickie placed each cleaned item into the drainboard, before moving on to the next. The bull towered over young Rickie, plowing his tender asshole. Rickie appeared stoic and uninterested. As he reached for the dishtowel to dry his hands, the bull showered his ass cheeks with hot jets of jism.
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Tonight’s offering. Please comment and follow.
Many thanks! – Lawrence
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/n1ksu5/rickie_and_the_bull
Delicious!