What the Singer Saw

Cassidy brought Dean to the brink again and again with the prostate work and then backed off, leaving Dean to whine and whimper and beg for relief. The glorious torture went on for some thirty minutes until Cassidy felt that all of the come that was going to ooze out of Dean’s cock had done so. Cassidy turned, moved his cock head to Dean’s hole, and pressed in.

Dean writhed within the confines of his bindings, arched his back and cried out, “Yes, yes. Nail me. Screw me. Fuck me!”

Cassidy gave him three long, deep strokes, and then pulled out of Dean’s ass.

Dean whimpered. “Give it to me. Give it to me hard.”

But then Cassidy left the bed and dressed, while Dean whined for the fuck to be completed.

“Oh, you’re gonna be royally fucked sometime soon,” Cassidy said as, dressed, he released Dean’s hands and headed for the door, knowing that he’d be long gone before Dean could free his legs.

Cassidy drove to the Brass Knuckles Club. For that particular entertainment, the night was young.