Sex stories

My name is Julien, 33, tall, bearded, with a solid build. On the surface, I’m a regular straight guy in a long-term relationship—but deep inside, I’ve always had unspoken fantasies. The kind where I submit entirely to a powerful man, become his personal toy, his obedient pup.

For years, I explored myself in secret, fingering, experimenting, fantasizing… but I had never taken the plunge. Until one night, I gathered the courage and posted an ad online: “Beginner pup ready to serve.” It was a call for something real, raw, and dominant.

Among the replies, one message stood out. It was from a man named Alex. Confident. Direct. The kind who doesn’t ask twice.
“Hey pup. Ready to serve a real man? I’ve got exactly what you need. Clean up, wear something nice under your clothes, and show up after work. I’ve had a long day and I could use some proper attention.”

His tone hit a nerve. It wasn’t just dirty—it was commanding. And I wanted that. That night, I barely slept. The anticipation was overwhelming. I prepped like it was a ritual: showered, trimmed, slipped into a red string under my jeans. I was ready to obey.

Standing outside his door, my hands were sweating. My heart racing. But my cock? Rock hard. When he opened, I was greeted by a man in his mid-thirties, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. His smile was confident, knowing.

“You’re the little pup, right? Get in. I’ve had a hell of a day.”

He gave me a firm smack on the ass as I walked in, and I shivered. We barely exchanged more than a few words before he sat down, spread his legs, and told me plainly:

“My cock’s not going to clean itself. You came to serve, so get to work.”

The tone was rough, dominant, but not cruel. I nodded silently, dropped to my knees, and began. I could smell his sweat, the musk of his day. It turned me on more than I could have imagined. I kissed the bulge through his pants, slowly unzipping him, feeling the heat of his body rise.

“Good twink,” he murmured as I took him into my mouth. I did it slow, unsure but eager. He guided my head with one hand, firm but never fxxcing. I wanted to impress him. To prove I could take it. That I wanted to be his.

He didn’t rush. He let me explore, gave me just enough pressure to test me. My jaw ached, my lips were slick, but I didn’t stop. I loved it. Serving him made me feel whole, like I was where I was meant to be.

Later, he stood up, walked behind me, and whispered, “Next time, I’m taking you properly. You’re not just my pup—you’re going to be mine.”

I left his apartment that night dazed, used, euphoric… and reckless for more.