I see the way you look at me. The way your eyes graze over me, from head to toe and back again. I can tell from the frustrated look on your face that you are wondering, questioning, figuring how to approach me. Should you walk up, say hello, and hope upon hope that I dont find you boring? Or should you just jump right into a conversation about the book my nose seems embedded into?
Would you approach me if you knew what I did last night? If you knew that just 13 hours ago I was engaging in things that most men see late at night on the internet while their wives are in bed. Things most women blush at, or find to be the utmost of vulgarity. Would you approach me if you knew that last night, the very face you are studying like fine art, was fucked quite roughly? A mans cock was in my mouth, face fucking me, having fun at my expense. His cock choking me, gagging me. His work weathered hands pulling at my dark hair, forcing my soft pretty lips closer and closer to his cock base.
Would you join me for coffee if you knew that a firm hand grabbed me by the back of the neck, forced me to bed over a kitchen counter, and finger fucked me into oblivion, while his football buddies watched in awe at his commands and how I obeyed? How about if you knew that my naked body was on show for them as I masturbated and my moans echoed around the house with the sounds of an out of bounds call from a referee on screen? My orgasm fast approaching like a quarterback rushing for the end zone. My screams and grunts of pleasure and release mixed with the spectators on screen praising the team for a three point conversion.
Would you sit down a while and chat if you knew that after the company left, he pushed me to the floor on all fours, and my chocolate toned skin felt the sweet sting of his Italian leather belt? That he spanked me till the tears flowed and splattered on the hardwood floors beneath my quivering form? Would you still find me intriguing if you knew that I was rubbing my clit and cumming 4...5...6 times even though the pain was nearing unbearable? Could you stand to get to know me if you found out that he fucked me while I cried? No longer from the pain, mind you, but because I felt so free while his voice echoed in my head. Him calling me dirty little names, that a woman like me shouldn't adore?. Those words flying around the room like butterflies, liberated from their cocoon-ish prisons.
Would it cause you to turn and walk away if I told you that he and I fucked for hours on end? His cum covered me. My face, my tits, my cunt and ass? That I wasnt ashamed, but blissful as he came on me time after time? That I begged for him to slap me across the face as my pussy exploded around his cock, and he demanded that I look him in the eyes?
Would you think bad of me if you knew that as you stood across the room, sizing me up, I was sitting here at my lonely table gently masturbating. My thick thighs squeezing and clinching, inching me towards an almost silent orgasm, as I tap my foot to the sounds from my Ipod?
Could you approach me, or would you think I was too shy and watch as I packed up and slipped back into a sea of nameless faces, and into the mysterious ways of my life?
(Posted with as much of my fading memory as I could scrape together, and the permission of the willing participant.)
It all started innocently enough. Just two people conversing about life, new occurrences since we had last seen one another, and sex. Okay. So we weren't being all that innocent.
He made mention of the fact that I had made a comment about blowing him in a previous conversation. I, of course, remembered (a good slut NEVER forgets) it after seeing photos of his gorgeous cock. Its like the Cadillac of cocks. Nice size, A definite head turner. Something that you wouldn't mind putting some mileage on.
I told him that while I was recovering from bronchitis and other things, I was also free that night. I was tired as hell from recovery, and sick of being stuck in the house. I was damn determined to get a taste of that cock. Who in their right mind would even turn down an opportunity to a cock they had been admiring? (Certainly not I!)
We made small chat a little while longer, and then plans were coming together. I had a bit of a wait while he tied up some loose ends, so I used my time wisely. I shaved the important stuff and had a quick yet intense masturbation session. 20 minutes later and It. Was. On. I threw on my black tank top, black skirt and my trusty flip flops. I slung my purse over one shoulder and hit the door running.
Flying down the highway, all I could think was how I could not believe I was getting asked to do this, to a guy I had the biggest crush on since I had laid eyes on him. The butterflies in my stomach were evicted, and pterodactyls had started their angry dance. The only thing that kept me calm was chain smoking and jamming out to my music.
I rolled into the meeting spot, abandoned my car, and slid into his. Pleasantries were exchanged, and we sped off into the night. We wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours, trying to find some place kinda secluded where we could be alone. We ended up stopping at the house of someone he knew. By then, I was ready for anything. Our talk turned to knives, and he pulled one out and dragged it across my left shoulder. Fuck, just thinking about that alone gets me wet.
Then he got impatient and asked if this was going down. I told him it was, and he pulled his cock from his shorts, and I maneuvered to my knees, not caring that my ass and possibly cunt was in the air, revealing to any night owl that I was certainly not wearing panties (Ohh, bad me!).
I pulled his cock into my mouth and started swirling that pretty tongue ring around the head. Slowly, I ventured further down his pole, savoring the taste and feel of it in my mouth. His hands were moving to my pig tails and starting to push my head down further.
Not too long after, he started forcing his cock down my throat. My head was firmly planted as close to the base of his cock as the steering wheel would allow, without a surgeon transplanting my face there. By the 10 second mark, I was trying to move away. 15-30 later I was drooling all over, and starting to want to breathe again. His hands move away and I hear him breathe deeper. Maybe a moan escaped. I am panting. Arms burning from propping myself up. Lower back and knees tightening up from the lack of much room, or a chance to move around.
He pushes my head back down and I started to suck him off again. I can feel two very distinct things by this point. He was bouncing my head around in a rhythm that pleases him, and my clit was Thuh-Rob-Bing. Between the heat of the night, and the sexiness of he and I, my thighs were beyond damp, or moist.
Quite a few more times I was gagged and choked with his cock. Each time I pulled up, I could feel myself being covered more and more with my own swear, saliva, and the juice from my cunt. As I gasped for air again, and tried to stave off another gag reflex, he suggest we take this elsewhere. To the backyard.
We quietly scamper off past assorted yard things to the back where he drops his shorts, and I drop to my knees. I got as comfortable as I could with rocks digging into my knees, and waited from him to put his cock back into my mouth. I stuffed his cock back where it once was, like a greedy squirrel with a nut in winter. The guy grabbed my head and started throat fucking me for all I was worth. And all I could do was kneel and take it (And y'all know I loved it!)! A few more minutes of that and I started licking on his balls. Nothing in this world is better than a man that has no issues with a chick slurping the fuck outta those bad boys!
He pulls me away, and he may have asked if I was ready for more. He may not have. I was too lost in my own head to hear anything anyways. I do remember, that the throat fucking started to get rougher. More primal, but according to him, not as hard as he is used to. Still, I took it like a fucking champ. Moaning around his cock, not caring that my knees and shins were being shredded to death by rocks, or that I had ripped a chunk of toenail off one of the many times I pulled away and threw up in the grass. (But that was forgotten when he reached down under my skirt and ran one lone finger against my cunt. Yep. That hit the slut button really good. FULL SPEED AHEAD BOYS!)
I only tapped out when he took me down too far, too long, and I just couldn't breathe. I would lean over again, throw up, but I got right back on. (Whadda trooper, eh guys?) My lungs kept me from taking in as much air as I normally could, so that kept the no air stints pretty short, and made the bastard gag reflex more sensitive than normal. But I soldiered the fuck on. The closer he got to cumming, the more force he used. And it had me wondering if I was going to end up with a bloodied nose and bruised face at times.
His hands clenched in my hair. My face went down yet again. But much deeper than before. I tried to manage one teeny breath, but I couldn't. Mouth overflowing. Nose smashed closed by his pelvis. I tapped once more. He pulled out, but barely a centimeter so that I could sniffle in a teeny bit of air, and he started to cum. He went back deeper, and I started to struggle to swallow, with a mouth crammed with cock and cum. Yep. Lucky me. I shot a cum rocket out my nose. SCORE! lol And though we were out in the open, all I could hear was me quietly moaning, and his hushed guttural groan of sweet, sweet release.
We caught our breath. I brushed rocks and pebbles as best as I could from my battered knees, and I hobbled back to the car so that I could head home and finish what we had started with the images freshly in my mind. And sleep. Lots of sleep. It was at least 6am by then.
My one regret of that night? Couldn't taste a fuckin drop of the cum. Damn. Damn. Damn.