Satin Circus

Then, moving to where he is kneeling between the young man’s spread calves, the ringmaster works the aerial artist’s, plump, firm buttocks cheeks with both hands. Caressing and kneading and separating them. He spreads the cheeks and leans over and blows on the young man’s entrance, being rewarded with a groan and a “Please, master.” He runs a satin-gloved finger over the hole again and again, making it pucker and open to him.

The young man gasps as, first, one satin thumb moves into the opening and then another, and the two gently pull, teasing the hole open. The young man isn’t a virgin. His hole will open to a man, but the ringmaster knows that it will need to open much wider to take him.

“Please,” the young man whispers. “Fuck me. Please.”

The ringmaster’s tongue goes to the hole and his gloved hands separate and stroke the buttocks.

The young man moans more deeply, and he lifts his hips off the surface of the studio coach, searching for the attention. His hands are stroking the satin covering on the couch.

The ringmaster rises on his knees, grasps the young man’s waist with the satin-gloved hands, raises his buttocks, and moves his hard cock into the crack and to the hole. The young man breathes hard and gives little yipping sounds as the ringmaster invades him with the cock to the depth of the rim of the bulb. The young man is panting and groaning, learning now why the time was spent teasing the hole open. The cock is a pulsating monster. The young man writhes and lets out a cry as it sinks in another inch.