Finally it’s CBT Story Time!
I walked into the leather, gear, and play night at my local bar and immediately spotted him—tall, naked, and smoking hot—across the room. A pup was already buried in his pits, sniffing away. I knew right then I needed a turn.
After signing in, I headed straight over. He was getting sucked off, but looked up, grinned, and raised his arm the second I asked. One deep inhale and I was instantly hooked—sweaty, masculine, perfect.
Later that night I watched him get tied up and worked over, then turn the tables: he locked a ball crusher on a helpless bound guy and slowly tightened it.
I told him how hot it was. He smirked, asked if I was into CBT. “Yes, but not much experience,” I admitted.
Without hesitation he grabbed my caged nub and balls, squeezed, and ordered, “Eyes on me.” I obeyed. He counted down from 5, gripping harder, pulling, stretching. I squirmed and whimpered, my cage straining the whole time. At one he let go.
“Think you deserve a reward?”
I nodded eagerly. He lifted his arm and shoved my face into that warm, ripe pit. I melted. We did it again and again—each round his grip on my balls got meaner, the countdown slower, the reward deeper. By the end I was completely addicted.
Never got his number, but I’ll definitely be looking for him next time 😈