Secrets of the Alpha Male

by Granny Effie

Image credits ↓
www.vinzfeelfree.com www.flickr.com/photos/vicentsoler
A Valencia-based artist whose work is outwardly critical of society. He uses a trademark blend of classic collage techniques and street art to create powerful, contemporary images.

The first time it happened, well, I was surprised to say the least. I won't tell you his name. Let's just say that back in the day, he was a young man with sun-darkened skin, who led his team to college soccer championships. Now, he leads more than athletes.

I was anything but in his league. I was in my early fifties then, working cleaning jobs at the college student dormitory. I knew what studs like him liked. I saw it at the parties, where I was invisible preparing to clean after them. I always wondered why he and his friends felt the need to hoot at the poor girls that walked around me every morning. Then one morning I discovered... it was me.

No girls were around when he hooted at me. I was alone. I marched myself up to that fence and gave him a piece of my mind. How dare he make fun of me like that? Sure, he was a man, but that did not excuse bullish behaviour.

He stopped smiling and he got this look in his eyes, I might as well have stomped his favourite toy. His voice almost broke as he asked me, "Do you want to punish me?"

That look. Everything inside quivered. I said yes. I have never considered punishing a man before. I never thought to ask, what if he demanded to submit to you? It was never a question I thought would come up.

Yet, there I was, following this young man into the house he shared with his friends. “Will she do it?” his friends asked as we came in. When they told me what the three of them wanted, my face burned with embarrassment while my mind worked over their request and how they stood, suddenly shy, with unsure looks on their faces.

I did it. You have not seen beauty until you have seen him bent over. My tongue flicked around the rim of his puckered little holes, his voice rise with a quiver as my finger slid into him while my tongue tickled his taint. You have not felt joy until you have heard him begging for more.

 
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