He got down on all fours like the good boy he is — back arched, hole exposed, and waiting for me. I didn’t even undress for him. I kept my leggings and top on, because this session wasn’t about me putting on a show. It was about control, pace, and how deep I could take him. I started slow, pressing in with my strap-on while he moaned and squirmed. My hands on his hips, hips grinding against his ass — each thrust more deliberate than the last. There’s something about staying dressed while I fuck him like that. Like I’m reminding him whose pleasure matters more. I can feel the tension in his body while I stretch him open, one stroke at a time. No rush. No mercy. Just slow, dominant pegging, and a hole that always wants more.