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one of those little suitcases on wheels that every
businessman had as a carry-on these days. He wondered how
many of those businessmen packed theirs with corsets and
lube, nipple clamps and cock rings. Only his Dal, he'd wager.
He heard the zipper of Dal's trousers go down and he
grinned as he found a sweet, well-used plug, a white leather
cock ring to match the corset, the lube. Practical man, didn't
want to sacrifice the slacks.
He put his prizes on the dresser next to the bed, let them
sit there so Dal could see them. Then he turned and moaned,
Dal finally naked for him, only the corset left on, cock hard
and reaching up to leave a wet stain on the white leather.
"Oh, fuck." His voice was low, husky. His cock was so hard
it hurt. "One of us," he had to clear his throat to continue, "is
wearing far too many clothes."
He didn't care though, he couldn't wait to touch. He closed
the space between them and ran his hands over Dal's body,
fingers sliding on leather, on skin, and loving both. Dal's ass
filled his palms and he squeezed, brought Dal's body up tight
against his.
37
Toy Box: Corsets
by Rob Knight, Sean Michael, Vic Winter
Dal worked his shirt open, those amazing icy eyes
dragging over his skin, making him shiver. "Need it."
"I've got what you need, Dal. I always do." He didn't think
his voice could get any huskier, but the desire coursing
through him just twisted everything up in the most delicious
ways. "Gonna fuck you raw, baby."
"Promises, promises." The kiss fucking burned him and he
squeezed harder, fingers digging into Dal's ass and bruising
that milky flesh.
He walked them over to the bed, rubbing his slacks-
covered groin against Dal's prick as they went. "I always
deliver."
"Yeah." His arms got trapped in his shirt as Dal groaned
into his lips. Fuck him, yes.
He worked haphazardly at freeing himself, more interested
in the taste of Dal's lips, in the way their bodies rubbed and
pushed together. Good thing Dal had focus. His pants fell, the
cotton briefs pushed down with a rough hand.
Then Dal took one of his hands, brought it to those
clamped nipples.
Groaning, he slid his thumb around the hard, clamped
flesh. He teased, threatened to touch the clamp, but drew
back again and again as their pricks slid together, rubbed:
skin on skin and skin on leather, it was enough to make him
shudder and groan.
At last he flicked his finger across the clamp, making it
dance.
The scream was short and sharp, Dal pulling away, then
pushing right back into his arms as if they were attached.
38
Toy Box: Corsets
by Rob Knight, Sean Michael, Vic Winter
"Like that, baby?" He did it again, watching the heat and
need in Dal's eyes go from flaming hot to inferno.
"Evil bastard. Fucking burns." Uh-huh. He knew.
He hit the other one with his finger, making Dal gasp and
jerk against him. "I could stop." It was an idle threat and they
both knew it.
"You won't." Those nipples were red and swollen and Dillon
knew they had to be throbbing, aching.
He shook his head and bent, licked around one and then
blew against the wet flesh. "I won't."
He nibbled Dal's skin where it met the corset, humming as
flavor of salt and leather and Dal mingled in his mouth. "Oh,
fuck, baby, I need you." With a growl, he pushed Dal back
onto the bed.
Dal's long prick slapped against the leather, loud enough
to hear. Oh, that had to sting. It didn't matter though, Dal
knew what he wanted, what he needed, that fine ass offered
to him as the man got on hands and knees. His fingers went
automatically to the little rings embedded in Dal's flesh
between balls and ass, tugging and twisting them as he
rubbed his cock along Dal's crack.
"You're ready for me." It wasn't a question, and he didn't
wait for an answer as he pressed the head of his prick against
the perfect, tight heat of Dal's ass.
Slick and pink, the ring of muscles squeezed the tip of his
prick for a second before opening and letting him in deep.
"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words tumbled from him, and his
hands slid around Dal's waist, the leather of the corset
39
Toy Box: Corsets
by Rob Knight, Sean Michael, Vic Winter
caressing his palms, his fingertips. He pushed in until his hips
were pressed tight against Dal's perfect ass.
They stayed there together for a moment, the muscles
around his prick rippling and teasing him, a maelstrom of
motion inside that deceptive stillness.
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