I had a fun session recently that I’m excited to share with you all. I met an antipodean gentleman on his way to Scotland for a film festival, who decided to make a pit stop in London for a little indulgence.

We met downstairs at a posh hotel in Knightsbridge, the kind of place where luxury and elegance greet you at every corner. The bar was dimly lit, with plush seating that made you feel like you could melt right into the ambiance. He was already waiting for me when I arrived, a big guy with a weightlifter’s body, towering over me even as he sat on one of those deep, leather chairs. His presence was very gentle and he had a quietness about him that made our conversation easy and unhurried.

After our drinks, we headed upstairs to his room, a grand suite that exuded sophistication. The room was spacious, with large windows that overlooked the city, but all of that faded into the background once the door closed and we were alone.

He had specific interests, and I was more than happy to explore them with him. We started with him on the floor and me on the bed, his lips eagerly finding my toes. He worshiped my feet with a fervour that was both intense and reverent. His large hands gripped my ankles as he sucked on each toe, his eyes half-closed, lost in the sensation.

It wasn’t long before I began to pull on his balls, my fingers finding their way to his ass as I teased him with a promise of what was to come. He was clearly enjoying every moment, though he remained quiet, only the occasional moan escaping his lips.

I brought out my strap-on, but quickly realized it might have been a bit ambitious. He wasn’t able to take it fully, but that didn’t stop the play. Instead, I pushed the boundaries in other ways, slipping my toes into his ass while he jerked off. The sight of him, this big, strong man, completely submitting to the pleasure, was exhilarating.

There was a lot of foot worship, more than I usually experience in a session. He was utterly devoted to my feet, even as I wrapped and tied his balls in a pair of my panties, squeezing them just enough to see him writhe in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

The highlight, for both of us, seemed to be when I found his prostate. The way he reacted, the sheer intensity of his arousal, told me I had hit the mark. He ejaculated with most of my foot in his mouth, two fingers deep inside him, while he stroked himself to completion. It felt almost like a game of naked Twister, or perhaps more like one of those snakes eating its own tail.

The ouroboros, a symbol of an everlasting cycle or a cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Or in this case a symbol of me half fisting a giant with one hand whilst crushing his nutsack with the other and my toes up his asshole.

Afterwards, he went to shower, and I followed after him. When we were both dressed again, we talked a bit about his upcoming trip and the festival. He didn’t say much, but the contentment in his eyes spoke volumes. I wished him an enjoyable journey and watched him leave with a sense of quiet fulfilment.

Next time, I’ll make sure to bring a smaller strap-on—I’m already looking forward to it. But for now, I’m left with the memory of a unique session with a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and left completely satisfied. Until our paths cross again, I’ll be holding onto the energy of that night, and the anticipation of what our next encounter might bring.