Guest Spot: The Programmer himself

The Programmer enjoyed our encounter and my description of it here quite a bit, evidently.  Over the weekend, he wrote and sent me this delicious little bit of hotness, and I’m posting it here for you with his permission.  Do enjoy — I was driving while reading this, and well, let’s just say that my gratitude to the inventor of cruise control is renewed.


The chair, slick with over an hour’s worth of his exertion, let the man slide and squirm as much as allowed by the thick straps that held him roughly in place and open to his trainer’s cruel but necessary touch.  As the latest cycle of his seemingly interminable treatment completed, he howled into his gag and arched up in a vain bid to find the touch and the satisfaction that had been withdrawn from him at just the wrong time.

“These are important lessons you need to learn,” she leaned over and spoke into his ear just loudly enough to break through his own desperate moans, her tone one of compassion tempered by determination.  “This penis is not for your satisfaction.”  His desperate cries and squirms renewed while she watched a healthy rivulet of clear wetness start to ooze from his bouncing urethra.  “Not yours.”  She grabbed the base of his penis and drove the knuckle of her slick gloved thumb hard against the urethra to emphasize her point.

With the back of her other gloved hand she tenderly stroked the side of his head and neck.  “From now on, this penis is for suffering,” she reminded him.  He howled, driven less by the protest he could no longer easily find than by the pressure radiating out from his groin and behind his moist eyes.  After a few seconds to let it soak in, she continued, “And I need you to accept that,” accompanying her words with a single, slow, firm upward pull on his penis, ending just short of his glans.  Neither of them was sure whether, beneath his sobbing and restraints, he had nodded in acceptance.

Seconds later, her freshly lubed hand lightly encircled his stiff penis once again, inspiring a protest of muffled noes and restricted head-shakes.  The proud teacher smiled inwardly and began the next cycle.

If you like this bit of writing as much as I do, comment and say so.  Maybe we can convince The Programmer to write us some goodies more often!

About Seven Dates a Week

I'm Jane, a bisexual polyamorous gal up to her nips in the dating pool. Cute, clever, and confident, I am loving and sexing half the United States. Having a hell of a good time too - and you get to read about it here.

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SDAW on Twitter

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