When I get down on my knees, it is not to pray.

lady on her knees for post When I get doen on my knees, it is not to pray.

On my knees, on the floor between his legs…

Fresh from the bath, smooth and naked, I knelt before him in the soft light of my lounge. Eyes down gazing lustily at his crotch. Hearing him shift on the sofa, I felt him lift a tendril of my damp hair from my neck and trace his finger under my chin, raising my face to meet his in a passionate kiss. “I can’t” he murmured, “I’m not him, I’m not Sir.”

“I know, and I don’t want you to be.” Breathing into the kiss I continued, “I just want to suck your cock while I kneel here.”

He clearly hadn’t needed much persuading. Breaking away from the kiss, he unbuckled his belt, lowered his fly. Shifting to release his already engorged shaft I licked my lips. Lowering my face before taking him fully in my mouth. Shining his length with my saliva, before lazily running my hot wet tongue over his veins in just the way that I knew he enjoyed. The growl that escaped from his lips told me everything I needed to know. My already soaked pussy began to mark my soft soles as I knelt there between his feet.

“Enough,” he said, suddenly standing up.

I was jolted from my lusty haze as he stepped past me, moving to my left and stepping out of his jeans. It took me a moment to realise that he was sliding his belt from the loops as he tidied his jeans away. There was a dark spark in his already dark brown eyes. He gently moved me from kneeling beside the sofa to leaning forward over the cushion.

“This is what you need N, I hope you’re ready.” A first blow of his warm leather belt landed across my right cheek followed moments later by a second, this time on my left cheek. The immediate sting followed by a spreading warmth was exactly what I needed, though I hadn’t realised, and M settled into a rhythm. I could feel every millimetre of the strikes as they turned my milky white flesh a hot red.

Looking over my shoulder I could see the fire in his eyes as he embraced the savage within. 

Every swipe of the belt made my skin sting and tingle. Each blow led to more pleasure building across my skin. Twenty on each side was his limit before he placed his weapon down next to my face as he moved behind me. On his knees behind me he buried his face between my hot cheeks. Tongue desperately seeking my arousal which was leaking from between my lips and over my swollen clitoris. A hand on each cheek, kneading my tender flesh while he lapped at my sweet juices. Next sliding his fingers into me and stretching my snatch wide so that he could get a proper taste. He continued to torment my holes with his tongue and fingers until I came to a shuddering climax. It knocked the strength from me and left my body in a soft, trembling heap on the cushions.

“Oh no, you’re not done yet” came his tense response, “back on your knees again.”

He helped me turn to my left, and get back onto my knees. With his hard shaft bobbing around in front of my glazed eyes I ran my tongue around his bulbous head once more. A short moan escaped his lips again as he fisted his hand in my hair, forcing my head back and my mouth fell open. As my lips parted he drove his cock into my mouth, into my throat. With me gagging and spluttering he continued to drive into me, seeking his own release. With each stroke of his pleasure more of mine dripped from my hypersensitive cleft, I spread it over my clit and played myself to a second orgasm matching his eruption. His sticky seed spilling down my throat as I convulsed once more.

Losing strength he folded down onto the sofa, pulling me up into his arms. Here I drifted into an untroubled sleep. 

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When I Get Down On My Knees It Is Not To Pray was first published on A Leap of Faith.


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