Lance Hart had been to Bunny Colby's apartment before. Twice. He knew the layout, he knew the rules, and he knew that the small smile she gave him at the door was never a good sign for him personally. Tonight she had a black silicone shaft already laid out on the dresser and a fresh bottle of lube next to it, and she had not yet told him whether either of those was for him.
"Strip and lie down on your back," she said, leading him into the bedroom. "Hands above your head. Eyes on the ceiling unless I tell you otherwise." Her voice was casual, almost cheerful, like she was telling him where to find the wine glasses. He did exactly what she said.
By the time he was flat on her bed, naked, hands stretched up against the headboard, she had pulled a low chair up to the side of the bed and sat down with a bottle of lube in her hand. She was still fully dressed. White cotton tank, soft pink shorts, hair tied back. The casualness was the trick. The whole scene played like it might just be a quiet evening if it were not for the absolutely mean look she was giving his cock.
"You have a really beautiful cock, Lance," she said matter-of-factly, popping the cap on the lube and pouring a slow drizzle from her hand onto him. "It is one of the things I keep you around for. I am going to enjoy it for a while before I do anything else." She wrapped her hand around the base of him and began to stroke. Slowly. Patiently. The way you stroke something you own.
She worked him for a long, long time. Long enough that the light outside the window changed. Long enough that her cotton tank had a wet patch where she had wiped her hand on it without thinking. Slow strokes that took him from soft to brutally hard and back again. Tighter strokes when she wanted to watch his thighs flex. Two-handed twists when she wanted to test how much he could take. Every time he got close to coming her grip would loosen by half a degree and she would smile at him like she had not noticed a thing. By the time she was done with that part of the evening he was leaking down her wrist and his eyes were fully closed and he was making a low sound he was not aware of making.
"Good," she said, and let go. "Now turn over. On your hands and knees. Face into the pillow."
He obeyed without thinking. He heard the harness buckles click behind him, heard the snap of more lube, heard her breath right above his ear. The first press of the strap-on was bigger than he expected. Heavier. She did not rush. She slid into him by inches, paused, watched him exhale, slid in further. By the time her hips were against his ass and her hand was flat on the small of his back he was open up to her in a way that no one without her patience would have managed.
Then she started to fuck him. Properly. Long, deep, deliberate strokes, the kind that go all the way to the back wall and stay there for a moment before she pulls out and does it again. She fucked him like she had nowhere else to be. Like the strap-on was hers and his ass was hers and the entire premise of the evening was hers. He gripped a handful of bedsheet and gave up on counting the strokes after twenty.
When she was done with that part she pulled out slow, unbuckled the harness, dropped it on the floor with a quiet thump, and crawled onto the bed in front of him on her hands and knees. White tank still on. Pink shorts pushed down to her thighs. She looked at him over her shoulder.
"You earned this. Get up here." She reached back, ran one fingertip along his cock to check that he was still hard, smiled when she found her answer. "Fuck me from behind. Hard. And when you are about to come, you pull out, and you finish on my ass. Do you understand?"
He understood. He got up onto his knees behind her, lined himself up with one hand on her hip, and pushed in. She made a small low sound that he would think about for a week. He fucked her exactly the way she had fucked him: long, deep, deliberate, no rush. She pushed back against him stroke for stroke. Her hand went to her clit somewhere around the third minute and stayed there.
"That's it. Just like that." Her voice was tighter now, breath catching at the end of every other word. "You are going to come on my ass and then you are going to thank me for both halves of this evening. Tell me when you are close."
"Close," he managed, voice tight. "Close, close, close."
"Then do it. Now. Pull out and finish on me."
He pulled out at the last possible second, his cock heavy and slick and twitching in his fist before he had even closed his hand around the shaft. One stroke, two strokes to bridge the rhythm her body had set, and then his orgasm hit him so hard his knees almost gave out under him. The first splash landed high on her lower back, thick and pearl-white, more than he expected to come out of him after the night she had put him through. The second hit her right ass cheek and broke into two streams running slow over her skin. The third he aimed deliberately, between her cheeks, and watched it pool there. The fourth and fifth came in a faster rhythm, shorter, hot, splashing across the curve of her ass and the small of her back until there was a slow shining glaze across all of it. His fist did not slow down. His hips kept rocking forward into nothing on their own. By the seventh and eighth and ninth small spurts his cock was just twitching the last of itself into his hand and he was making sounds that were not quite words.
And through all of it, Bunny did not move. She kept her ass arched up exactly where she wanted it, her face turned to watch him over her shoulder, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in quiet satisfaction at what she was watching land on her. She waited until his cock had finally stopped pulsing and his fist had gone still and his breath was coming in ragged pulls, and only then did she straighten her back and look at the mess he had painted across her.
"Good boy. Now go get a warm cloth. We are not done."
Want the real version? Browse pegging, strap-on and anal scenes on SweetFemdom, or watch every Bunny Colby and Lance Hart scene plus the full AdultPrime Network. Join now.