SunBurnt Musk ⚠️RacePlay⚠️He was the epitome of a country bo..

SunBurnt Musk ⚠️RacePlay⚠️

He was the epitome of a country boy rugged, sun soaked, and unbothered by the heat of the day. Working out in the fields under the relentless summer sun, sweat was just a part of his life, and it clung to him like a second skin. That raw, natural scent, mixed with the musk of hard work, was something I grew to crave. And he knew it.

When he came over, there was an unspoken understanding between us. I would be waiting, ready, while he would walk through the door with that confident, unhurried stride. The sunburn from the day’s work would still be visible on his neck, the lingering warmth radiating from his body, but his eyes would find me immediately—already on my knees. He loved it that way. No need for words, no need for explanation.

He was dominant in every sense. His masculinity filled the room before he even said a word, but he didn’t need to talk. He enjoyed watching me fall in line with his every movement, with every step closer. I could already feel the tension building before he’d reach me. It was in the way he held his gaze—direct, expectant—and the way he carried himself, as if he knew exactly what I was waiting for.

He had a particular appreciation for the parts of him that most would overlook. His armpits, always sticky from a full day in the heat, became a shrine for me. I was there to worship every ounce of his labor, every drop of sweat that rolled off his skin. It wasn’t just about desire; it was about respect. Respect for the work he did, for the heat he endured, and for the pure physicality of his body. When I buried my face in his chest, in those armpits that held the scent of his toil, I could feel him smirk. He loved that control, that sense of power he had over me over us.

He’d laugh sometimes, a low chuckle, whenever I hesitated to dive in completely. “You know what you’re here for,” he’d say, his voice a country rumble, half daring me and half commanding. There was no judgment, no shame. In fact, he loved the way I admired him, and he relished in every second of it.

RacePlay was always part of it. He talked about it openly, never holding back, never sugarcoating it. It was part of his dominance, part of the way he controlled every aspect of what happened between us. He liked to remind me of the difference the power imbalance that was so clear to him. For him, it wasn’t just about the physical, it was about establishing a dynamic that went far deeper. And the more we gave into it, the stronger that dynamic became.

It was more than just the heat of the day or the sweat on his skin. It was about surrendering to him fully his masculinity, his rawness, his dominance, and the way he loved to see me bend to his will, again and again.