Black Cat
The circle in the night-black PVC was cut just big enough to show the mound of her shaved pussy, which spilled out, looking ripe and bitable as a peach. Catherine, his Cat, ground it into his mouth, pressing her clit against his tongue while his hands groped her slippery, poly-clad form. Seamless vinyl slid along under his fingers. The smell of it, the taste of it, richer, almost than her own scent and taste.
He drank her in, Cat’s body’s heat and moisture all seeming to flow out of this one opening in the bodysuit. Even her hands were covered, her feet encased in knee-high boots, her trim thighs cased tight. He wanted to grab the edges of the opening, rip it wide to expose her, but he knew it wouldn’t tear, and he didn’t want to spoil the perfect, unbroken beauty of her outfit, even if he itched, too, to peel her out of it a bit at a time.
He licked her, licked until she was wet and flowing, and then, when she ordered him, he licked her thighs, too, tracing the line where the opening stopped at the top of her thigh, then dipping below to stroke his tongue over the smooth PVC.
He licked, licked her belly and her legs, the tight-cased mounds of her breasts, polishing the shiny vinyl to a keener glare. He nuzzled up to her neck, collared to the jawbone with a high PVC collar, and she lay back against her throne of red vinyl, spread her thighs just enough to invite him in.
Her hands guided him, not into her but against her, his cock slipping between her black-clad thighs, the underside rubbing over her pussy. She closed her thighs around him, draped her legs over his shoulders. Her smirk was a thing of pure, gem-grade evil.
He slid along her molten furrow, knowing he pleasured her as he dragged along her clit. Her sleek, black hand came down, stroked him, and he moaned. She held her other palm up to him, black, smooth fingers shiny in the dim light.
“Spit.”
He spat onto her palm, and she rubbed it into his cock as the head flashed from between her thighs with each stroke. He groaned. Her heat and dampness baked against him, her skilled hand wrung him, twisted, stroked, the PVC so slick and smooth that it practically glided over him.
When he came, it was hard, shooting jets of come over the black PVC to splatter her seamless, undulating belly, her up thrust, black-covered tits. The last of it dripped off his cock and onto her naked mound, a few streaks smearing her black gloves. Cat pulled him down to kiss her.
“Now, my little slave, you’ll have to polish me clean again.”
He could think of nothing he would enjoy more.
~Alexandra Rose~
Men in Pain
