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My straight bully had me on my knees, ready to do his bidding. He smirked, commanding me to lick his nasty hole. I was locked in a mix of fear and thrill, driven by that raw dominance. His orders were clear and filthy. I couldn’t resist, getting my tongue right in there, tasting him. The smell hit me, a mix of sweat and power. He laughed like he owned me, and in that moment, he did. Every lick, every groan, ignited something primal. This was no game; it was real, raw, and dirty, just how I wanted it.
