#rough play | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monkeerotica · 29 days ago

Note

Mike likes it rough. Which of the boys will give him just that?

which indeed? 1500 words to find out. -author🦋

explicit.

rough and rowdy ways

Ask Peter, was always the refrain around the canyon. Peter understands. They said he had a mind like the side of a barn. So Mike went ahead and asked him.

“Harder.”

Peter went faster.

Mike grit his teeth. “Give it to me hard.” He tried to move Peter’s hips into him, ram him in.

Peter started to catch on. He rolled like water and ended with a jerk. “You like that?”

Mike nodded breathlessly, laying the back of his head into the pillow as stars filled his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Peter fucked into him sharply, growling with effort.

Mike started to float. “Hit me.”

Peter stopped, and the room spun. Finger bones knocked clumsily against Mike’s jaw. He opened his eyes.

“Did that hurt?” Peter was panting from exhaustion, his eyes wide with fright.

Mike gave him a real look. “Are you kiddin’?”

“I just– I can’t–”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mike wanted to say, You’re hurting me right now. You’re a pain in my ass in more ways than one. “It’s not gonna hurt me, come on. Just gimme one.”

Peter raised his hand. Heartbreak was visible on his face as his shoulders rose and fell with deep, preparatory breaths.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Are you gonna CO your way out of this, too?”

Peter’s other arm had begun to shake from the labor of holding himself up above Mike. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, just…” Mike sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. Let me…”

They broke apart ungracefully, damp and trembling.

Peter drank several long gulps of water and said, “You can hit me if you like.” He bravely raised his chin.

Mike rolled over and pulled his pants back on.

---

If Mike had grown up with a father figure, he probably would have told him that you can never send a boy to do a man’s job. Instead, Mike had picked up that phrase from the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, and how true it was. This was why, not long after his would-be romp with Peter, Mike picked up the telephone again.

It was the last decision he wanted to make that day. This had been the week straight out of hell, the fate of his job, his money, and his family always one second-guess away from falling to pieces. If all went well, this would put his head on straight and make him forget the whole lousy week. And he was reasonably confident that it would.

---

After buzzing a visiting car through the gate, Phyllis opened the front door and found herself staring into the black eyes of Davy Jones.

“David,” she said.

He seemed just as surprised to see her. “Hi. You’re looking well, how are you?”

Phyllis followed his gaze over her shoulder and found no one.

“I phoned him I’d be coming—Mike should be expecting me,” he said hastily, by way of apology for dropping in on her unannounced.

“Don’t be silly. Won’t you come in?”

She didn’t mean to be cold, but it was Peter she’d been anticipating. Why Mike made the switch was anyone’s guess. Some women would take issue with what he was doing. Sometimes she still did. But at over a year postpartum, when the very thought of being touched almost always brought needles of pain, this was the best way for both of them. She hoped this time would be the one that clicked. He was running out of friends.

In the time it took her to show Davy the kitchen and offer a drink, Mike had decided to grace them with his presence. He was dressed for the day. Davy cleared his throat, politely but meaningfully.

Unable to think of anything else to do, she left the kitchen without a word. Mike caught her with a hand at her waist as she was leaving. Once he saw she was looking at him, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and sent her on her way.

---

“D’you have any cigarettes?”

“You know I don’t smoke.” Now that they were alone in the bedroom, Mike opened a drawer and pulled out a silver case.

Davy set it on the nightstand. “For after.”

“Long as you do it outside. I don’t want–” Mike hissed with a sudden gasp as Davy grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked downward, forcing him to his knees.

His fist still full of Mike’s hair, Davy looked puzzled. “You’re ready, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Mike croaked, “I am.”

He’d better have been. The next yank sent him eye to eye with Davy’s zipper, jeweled fingers pawing at the pull-tab. Mike did away with the belt as fast as he could. He was rewarded with a mouthful of Davy’s soft cock, making him sigh deep thanks through his nose. At last he could turn his mind off. All he had to do now was take it.

With a series of tugs on his scalp, Davy drove Mike to keep sucking him until he filled out some more. As soon as he was fully hard, he gripped Mike’s head with both hands, the better to hold him still while he fucked his mouth. Stroke after stroke hammered into Mike’s throat. Not fast like a drill, but rough and keen. Davy wasn’t big, and that was a sentence by itself. But what he had, he knew how to use. Mike couldn’t open his eyes. He was drooling, shedding tears, and happier than he’d been in a long time. He didn’t even have to think about when to breathe. He caught a choking breath here—and there—where he could get it. It was like being tossed around by the waves.

Davy was a showman, dyed in the wool. When he groaned and cried out, it sounded a little theatrical. To Mike it was music. It was the sound of his own beauty. His own usefulness.

“Get up.”

Mike found his mouth empty, bereft of Davy’s cock. The room came slowly, blearily into focus as he staggered to his feet. Just as soon, he was on the bed; by a shove or a fall, he didn’t know. When he felt a pair of hands get to work on his belt and buttons, he threw his shirt off. He was cold with nakedness and buzzing all over.

Davy still had all his clothes on, even his jacket. Only his pants were undone, the belt in a pile with Mike’s somewhere. He was flushed and sweating, but it was a good look on him—healthy, vital. Without preamble he bent Mike in half, knees against shoulders. A drop of sweat landed on Mike’s forehead with the force. Completely ignoring Mike’s dick, Davy spread him open and plunged a finger inside him. He glided like nothing, slippery with a little tube of grease from his pocket. Mike made a noise like he’d been struck.

“Breathe,” Davy ordered, and worked in another finger from his other hand.

It was all Mike could do. He felt tight but his body was on fire. He drew a shaking inhale that became a double gasp when Davy stuck more fingers in him. Not just widening him, but knocking against something that made him pulse. He let out a long breath. As long as Davy wasn’t going to do it, he squeezed the head of his cock and rubbed it wetly with his thumb.

He only got a moment of that before Davy was making him turn over. There was something vulgar in the way he said it. Ass up. Arse up, Mike supposed, if he had to write it down. It was something Mike could imagine Jack the Ripper saying to a Victorian streetwalker minutes before sending her to God, and he didn’t know why he liked that, but he did.

The touch he was waiting for came in quick series. Davy steadied a hand on Mike’s hip, lining himself up. He shoved Mike’s face into the pillow, and then he sank all the way into him. Drew back, and drove in again. There was a carnal slap as their bodies hit together.

Mike saw lights. He let out an animal sound, high and long. Again, again, again, Davy’s cock struck him deep. Not jackhammering, but hard and so, so steady.

The noise was filthy. Mike heard a smack out of Davy’s perfect metronome time and felt the sting on his skin and realized he’d slapped him a good one, right across the ass. He did it again, the other side, backhanded. With his ring on. Lightning bolts of pain. Mike made an unforgivable noise and bit the pillow as hard as he could. He was going to come. He couldn’t stand it. The way his body was bending, not knowing when or where the next blow would land.

Sounds of wailing bedsprings and the drum-slap of skin on skin filled his head. He muttered Davy’s name into the pillow, over and over like a prayer. The tingle of orgasm started in his limbs. There was nothing he could do. One more thrust and he was done for, body going stiff and then liquid as he came all over his sheets.

Davy didn’t stop, either. Not until he reached his own climax a few minutes later. By then Mike didn’t know which way was up. He was limp as a ragdoll and thoroughly, mercilessly spent.

After lying on the sheets a while, he came to his senses, feeling just plain happy.

Not even the smell of tobacco smoke starting to permeate the room could bring him down.

#filled prompts #mike nesmith #peter tork #torksmith #phyllis barbour #davy jones #jonesmith #rough play #🦋

8 notes · View notes

your-internet-bf · 6 months ago

Text

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

18K notes · View notes