The Leather Phallus (1)



I can’t remember why we didn’t go shopping for a manufactured dildo, although neither of us found the aesthetics of the prevalent cock and balls number appealing, so perhaps that had something to do with it. I do remember the feeling of triumph when I turned the leather around the right way, stuffed it, closed over the end, and felt (if not saw), a passing resemblance to a cock, in my hand.

Once the initial adjustments to sharing our lives full time had occurred, Ryan and I experimented with a number of sexual activities including anal sex. I don’t know how the feasibility of the act occurred to us, but we were both fans of Anne Rice’s Lestat novels, so it may have come from our reading. I know we both found the idea of a vampire who could invade every inch of his victims’ body, highly erotic at the time.

Eventually Ryan was able to invoke, for the first time, the breathy whimpers and moans which became the signature sounds I made as he eased his well lubed, carefully sheathed cock into my willing arse. He spent considerable time and effort applying lubed fingers to my previously virginal orifice, graduating from one to three over several sessions. I’d slowly become used to the odd, filled sensation that not only occurred during the encounter, but also lasted for hours after he’d been inside me.

On the day we decided to try full penetration, we’d repaired to the bathroom with towels, a pillow, lube and condoms. We’d spent time licking, sucking and finger fucking on the floor, with the aim of getting me hot and eager before we attempted the act. The towels beneath me were already damp from my juices when we finally hoisted a pillow under my hips, and Ryan began the now familiar process of invading the territory, one finger at a time. Eventually he donned a condom, lubed up and began to press against my entrance. It wasn’t sexy. It was uncomfortable. More like a weird birthing in reverse, with him pressing, then pausing, as I panted and adjusted to the sensation. Then suddenly he was in.

“Oooooh. Ah Ah Ah. Oooohoooh!”

Beyond coherent speech, my arse on fire, strange high pitched moans and intermittent panting I could not stifle echoed through the tiled bathroom. My lover began to cautiously slide in and out of the newly plundered opening, checking as he did so that I was okay.

“Oooooh. Ah Ah Ah. Oooohoooh! Ah Ah Ah!

Reassured that what he was hearing was a tolerable mix of pain and pleasure, he gradually began to pump harder and faster, his arousal increasingly fuelled by the noises I was making. Intent on the sensations flooding through my loosening ring of muscle, I scarcely registered the separate pain of his fingers digging into my hips, as I writhed, vocalised and eventually collapsed my upper body onto the floor, scrabbling frantically underneath my mound to rub my throbbing, needy clit. The pillow under my hips was already wet, and the worn out towel beneath me rasped against flattened breasts and rampant nipples like a ‘Chinese burn’.

“Ah Ah Ah. Aaah! OOhm. Fuuuuck! Oooohoooh!  Ah Ah Aaagh!”

The unusual sounds were wildly erotic to both our ears, spurring Ryan on to his own gutteral replies as we rutted frantically, lust overcoming pain.

“Erghm. U’Urrh! Eerghm.”

Waves of heat spiralled across my skin, sensations gathered deep in my arse; a gushing orgasm swept through my fingers. Spurred on by the pulsation, Ryan pulled back, then plunged harrowingly into me, once, twice, a third time; shoving my body off the edge of the pillow as his own tsunami swept through with orgasmic force, leaving him half sprawled across my buttocks and back.

“U’uuurgh! Uuuurrrgh! Uuuuuurrrrrgh!”

Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes at the intensity of the moment, and my body soon began to protest the throbbing invasion anew. Still we lay on floor exhausted for a moment longer, until de-tumescence spurred us to careful movement, and the removal of the sheath.

It would take several weeks before we dared to repeat the activity, but once again we were swept away on a wave of feeling. Ryan freely admitted that he was just a little jealous that I was having such a marvelously intense time on the receiving end of his relentless cock. I’m sure he wasn’t the first nor the last man to wish he could fuck himself, and his fingers and then mine curved around his angular buttocks to seek the star between. While I happily catered to his emerging interest with lubricated fingers, my hands are small and fingers short. A poor substitute for the feral creature that was his enraged member pounding into me.

Thus the idea of the ‘leather phallus’ was borne. And executed. And used.

But unfortunately the day is dwindling and I have mundane work to do, so you must wait, that’s a story for another time.


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11 thoughts on “The Leather Phallus (1)

  1. What a wonderful way to celebrate indeed! Congratulations on your 100th post. I sure hope this one has a followup story behind it 😉

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  2. Wow your 100th – I am on about my 90th – hot tale – I used to read those Anne Rice novels. Did u ever read a very early one called “Belinda”?

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