Casanova - Il Brutto

The arse of the son of the Doge's son gleamed pale in the slanted moonlight. The swollen head of his cock was braced by an ornate encirclement of silver and cut obsidian then down a crooked vein to a small crescent beneath his straining ball sack. Casanova – il bruto – rammed his own erect cock deep into the oiled hole presented. Brutal and coarse, the fuck proceeded. The son of the Doge wept and cried out and the gossip went around the city. Casanova's thick and meaty sword of flesh probed arseholes.

Then, all the boys and the boys as girls and the men as girls became his prey.

The rough assfuck with crafty seduction was a Venetian tragedy and comedy; fleshfeast in an era of cocky-filled concubinage andcourtesans of the male satyr variety. Il Bruto ruled them through his cock. His rugged muscular body was a large draw combined with every rumor about the length and thickness of his cock. If it wasn't in their mouth, they pouted. If it was, they sang a chorus – ever dirtier – of hungry want. Kiss. Lick. Lick. Stroke. Swallow.

It was – so the public knew – that Casanova's impossibly virile cock had plowed fields among Venice's nobility. Working his way from the bottom to a tripping reputation and a curse and a giggle in every conversation. Everyone knew of Casanova's cock. And knew he knew how to seduce one.

Naked Spartan thighs, they said. Left legendary lover's bites. Became a one man sin. For the love of the cock. They worshiped it. They worshiped him. When he fucked them, it was: stormy, burning, possessed and obsessed, orgasmic. Cum explosions, marking and marked, painted into the memory as it happens. Astonishing. A sexual landmark.

Of course, everyone flirted. Masquerades were orgiastic; the backalley up yours encouraged behind masks in corridors and archways. A glimpse of cock brought eager smiles. A flash of lips often were coated with droplets and puddles of thick pearly cum, glistening in the shadows. Pink tongues arched and danced on the rustic head of Casanova's cock then serpentined down to tighten his balls. “Signore!” was the echoing talk of the canals. Casanova daillied in afternoon trysts in a cupboard, against a wall, naked and tied to his bed. As if honing a rapier to a cutting edge, Casanova promised – and delivered – the fuck of a lifetime.

The transformation of his domina wife to the obedient supple slave to Master's cock was a serious shock to husband Jerome. She already held his chain leash in a taut grip; his wrist and ankle restraints clanked heavily. She looked into Master's eyes briefly before lowering the lids. Her graceful fingers snapped the leash forward,

“Yes, Mistress.” Jerome shuffled forward and bowed, his face over Master's crotch. A loud and long kiss occurred.

“Thank Master!” his wife reminded with a slap on his ass.

“Thank you, Sir. I mean, Master.” Jerome's fingers massaged and fondled Master's shaved, cut think cock. “I am sorry, S – Master.”

“That's enough,” his wife growled looking at Master for assent. At his nod and smile, she pulled the chain leash closer. Jerome pretended to gag as her fingers probed his open mouth.

“You'll have to earn a longer taste of that, fool.” She knelt before Master's naked thighs and licked long lines from his knees upward. Jerome watched intently as her probing twisting tongue finally scraped across the tip of Master's erection. She quickly looked up into Master's gaze, smiling her lips around his cock.

Glancing over her shoulder at her stiffly posed husband, she smiled wickedly. “But I will.”

Frozen in place by some unspoken command, Jerome watched on his hands and knees as his wife slid her lips up and down Master's thick shaft. He also felt what seemed a constant drip of precum down his left thigh.

It was a surprising revelation what his wife created between her tongue and lips with Master's cock that was dirty and symphonic at the same time. Jerome's cockhead throbbed as he watched his wife's lips devour that Man's cock; her tongue washing his tightening balls.

The longer and closer he watched the harder his cock grew. It was some rare exhibition of submissive's mouth and dominant's cock. Jerome wanted it.

His voice seemed like a fading echo in his head. “I want to earn it in my mouth. Please.”

The pause for breath took an eternity before he breathed again. “Master,” he whispered hoarsely.