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02 / 09 / 2024
Skinner's size13 feet for My Friends Feet 🥵
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“The Ritual of Submission”
The vast expanse of the forest was Jackson’s sanctuary, a place where he could escape the mundane routines of his college life. But more than that, it was a realm of secret desires, a haven where he could explore the depths of his fantasies. The stories he’d heard of the rugged, dominant cowboy who roamed these woods had stirred something deep within him. The cowboy, with his broad shoulders, thick beard, and the ever-present cigar, was a figure of raw masculinity and power.
Jackson had ventured deeper into the forest that evening, driven by an irresistible urge. The scent of pine mixed with the smoky aroma of a cigar, guiding him like a beacon. As he approached a clearing, his breath caught in his throat. There he was, the cowboy, standing tall and imposing against the backdrop of towering trees. He wore a plaid shirt that clung to his muscular frame, leather chaps that highlighted his powerful legs, and a wide-brimmed hat that cast a shadow over his rugged face. The thick, hefty cigar in his mouth was a testament to his dominance, the smoke curling around him like a protective shroud.
Jackson felt a shiver of anticipation as he stepped closer. The cowboy’s eyes met his, a spark of recognition and authority in their depths. Without a word, the cowboy beckoned him with a single, commanding gesture.
“On your knees, boy,” the cowboy’s voice was a deep, resonant growl that reverberated through Jackson’s entire being.
Trembling with a mix of fear and excitement, Jackson dropped to his knees. The forest floor was cool beneath him, grounding him in the moment. The cowboy stepped forward, his boots crunching on the fallen leaves. The scent of the cigar was intoxicating, mingling with the earthy aroma of the woods.
The cowboy’s hand moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. Jackson’s heart raced as the zipper of the cowboy’s jeans was pulled down, revealing the impressive length of his cock. Thick and uncut, it mirrored the heft of the cigar the cowboy was smoking, a symbol of his raw, masculine power.
“Take it,” the cowboy ordered, his voice a blend of challenge and command.
Jackson’s hands shook slightly as he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the cowboy’s cock. He leaned forward, his lips parting as he took the head into his mouth, the taste of the cowboy’s arousal mingling with the smoky air. The cowboy’s hand found its way to the back of Jackson’s head, guiding him with firm, controlled pressure.
“Good boy,” the cowboy murmured, taking a long drag from his cigar. “Now, show me what you can do.”
Jackson began to suck, his tongue swirling around the head of the cowboy’s cock as he took more of it into his mouth. The cowboy’s hand tightened in his hair, a reminder of who was in control. Jackson’s head bobbed up and down, his mouth working eagerly as the cowboy’s moans of pleasure filled the air.
The cowboy’s other hand moved to his cigar, taking it from his mouth and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. The scent surrounded them, creating an intimate, almost ritualistic atmosphere. The cowboy’s dominance was palpable, a force that commanded Jackson’s submission.
“Deeper,” the cowboy growled, pushing Jackson’s head down until his cock hit the back of Jackson’s throat. Jackson gagged slightly but recovered quickly, determined to please the cowboy.
The cowboy’s hips began to thrust, fucking Jackson’s mouth with a steady, powerful rhythm. Jackson’s eyes watered, but he kept his focus, his hands gripping the cowboy’s thighs for support. The cowboy’s moans grew louder, his pleasure evident as he took another drag from his cigar.
The smoky haze enveloped them, the scent of the cigar mingling with the raw, musky aroma of their arousal. Jackson’s jaw ached, but he relished the sensation, the act of worshipping the cowboy with his mouth. The cowboy’s dominance was all-encompassing, his power a tangible presence that left Jackson trembling with desire.
“Good boy,” the cowboy praised, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re taking it so well.”
Jackson’s heart swelled at the cowboy’s words, a sense of pride and fulfillment washing over him. He sucked harder, his tongue working expertly as he brought the cowboy closer to release. The cowboy’s thrusts grew more erratic, his grip in Jackson’s hair tightening as he approached the edge.
With a final, powerful thrust, the cowboy came, his cock pulsing in Jackson’s mouth. Jackson swallowed eagerly, the taste of the cowboy’s release mingling with the smoky flavor of the cigar. The cowboy’s moans of pleasure were a symphony in Jackson’s ears, a testament to his success in pleasing his dominant.
As the cowboy’s breathing steadied, he gently pulled Jackson’s head back, looking down at him with a mixture of satisfaction and approval. The cowboy took one last drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around them like a protective shroud.
“You did well,” the cowboy said, his voice softening slightly. “I’m proud of you.”
Jackson smiled, a sense of accomplishment and contentment filling him. He had found what he had been searching for—a place where he could submit, where he could find pleasure in his surrender to a powerful, dominant man. The forest, with its towering trees and earthy scents, had become a sanctuary, a place where his desires could be fully realized.
In the heart of the woods, surrounded by the scent of pine and cigar smoke, Jackson found his true self. The cowboy’s dominance was a force of nature, a power that commanded respect and submission. And Jackson was more than willing to give it, knowing that he had finally found his place in the world.
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