Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell Episode 4

rubbery - Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell [Episode 4] Author: rubbery
Title: Be Careful What Fantasies You Tell [Episode 4]
Date: 27 January 2017

Episode 4 – Tatpup
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You start taking deep breaths as your deepest fantasies are realised but never thought they could.

You are simultaneously turned on and horrified. You fantasised about this. But – maybe it’s just a joke. Maybe it’s just like those temporary tattoos at Brighton Pride. No. It’s not. The entire left side of your head is now a black tribal tattoo snaking all the way down the left side of your face. It’s fuckin’ beautiful. Your trippiness disappears for a moment – how the shit am I going to work with that? How do I face – face, HA! – my mum? She hated my little armband. Fuck. Oh, god – this is so wonderful. You fall back into the acid. Your markings start to animate – it’s what you always thought would be done one day – animated tattoos.

Please. Please! Your fist again, Sir! Please, Sir! What is going on? You’re pleading to be fisted. 24 hours ago you’d be horrified someone could get a Kit-Kat up there.

Mohawk obliges. But he takes it very slowly. And on your trip it seems likes days pass before it slips in with a little ‘glop!’

It feels like your arse is a washing machine churning over the clothes on a warm wash. First one way, then a pause, then the other. When Mohawk gets to the spin cycle you leave your consciousness and everything is. Just everything is.

When you wake up, you’re in a large room with sunlight streaming yellow through the open French windows with a cool breeze billowing the sheer curtains. You wonder whether this some kind of film set for Scarlett. Your mind’s not completely clear: that’s been made – mid 90s, wasn’t it? Then you take a breath and realise that you’ve actually just had a pretty fabulous horny dream.

But your tits ache a bit. So you rub them – OW! What the - ? Two shining rings, the thickness of, well, the thickness of things that couldn’t possible go through your nips. What, 5 mm? Suddenly you get hard and want to wank. Get a towel first. (Old habits die hard. Blame those covert wanks under the bedclothes at home when you were a teenager.) You walk past to what you think must be the bathroom through a corridor with full length mirrors on both sides and realise it might have been a dream, but it came true. You gaze at your scalp and face – astonished at the stunning tattoo from the back of your head to your jowl. Your right side is completely untouched. Then you clock the midnight blue mohawk carved into your head – set a little to the right, not central, as if it’s giving way to the majesty of your tattoo. Your dick hardens again and you grab it to wank feeling the PA between your thumb and forefinger. Oh, shit, that’s good. You tug it unconsciously, but it doesn’t hurt, it just feels unbelievable. Before you know it you’ve already cum right up one of the mirrors.

Entering into the bathroom, you decide to have a shower. But then you wake up and smell the coffee. Yep. Real coffee, waiting by the side of the sink. Hot coffee. As you drink it, you then wonder how it’s hot, how someone knew you were there, having woken up, timed it right, got all –

Hi, Tatpup! It’s Mohawk. In tight red rubber. With his dick sticking out a mile, also in tight rubber. Uh? “Are those your balls?”, you spontaneously spout. “Yeah, just a litre and a half of nice salt water keeps them big and bouncy”. They must be four or five inches big, and swing between his legs as he stands like Mr Muscle. “Have your shower”, he smiles, just standing there just being everything you’ve ever wanted. You shower. He dries you. You begin to relax and think at last all that stuff is over now. Or at least hope it is.

As he dries you, he deftly ropes your hands behind your back and leads you back to the bedroom and pushes you face down on the bed. He slops lube around and in your arse fingering you, and you realise he’s going to get his fist up there again. But he doesn’t. He pulls you up on your knees with your head supporting you on the pillow as he slides, ever so slowly, his fat cock in and out of the mouth of your arse, going in a tiny bit more at each thrust. It must be 10 minutes later when your mind is on a different plane and you feel the whole cock go in like impatient women when the doors finally open at the January sales. This is one bargain you never thought you’d get.