I met Nick on Tinder. He was a gorgeous blonde with piercing blue eyes. He told me that he liked redheads, and I shot back that I was a sucker for guys with glasses.
“I just got LASIK. There goes my chance for getting a blowjob.”
I told him I’d still blow him. I’m not one to turn the chance to get a gorgeous guy’s dick in my mouth. We quickly arranged the details — we were to meet at a dive bar, enjoy a cocktail, and then go back to his place nearby. I got there before he did. It was unseasonably hot and humid outside so I was wearing as little clothing as possible, just a black tank top and a flouncy striped miniskirt with some black high heels. My eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright sunshine to the dark bar atmosphere. I picked a booth in the back with a view of the front door and slid across the faded red vinyl seating.
The server came by and I put in my order. It was two-for-one Tuesday during happy hour, so she brought me two plastic glasses of the local favorite pale ale.
Nick walked in. Hmm, hot without the glasses too. He was athletic and well-dressed. We talked for a few minutes about our desires and our expectations. He was a master of suggestive talk, and not at all shy about discussing fucking my face in a public place. We drank our beers in record time. He grabbed my phone and put his address in, and we departed for our respective cars for the short drive to his place.
I furiously circled the surrounding blocks, my pulse racing and my palms sweating. I was about to get fucked like a cheap whore, if only I could find a parking spot in his crowded downtown neighborhood. I finally spotted one. If you think parallel parking is hard now, try doing it when the only thing you can focus on is getting nailed.
I speed-walked to his apartment, my breasts bouncing up and down in my lace bra with every movement. I reached his building and he buzzed me in. His apartment was a tiny efficiency, with the bed right next to the front door. He told me to strip and kneel down. I did as I was told. It excited me. I shivered with excitement as he excused himself to the kitchen to pour himself another drink, and then he took a seat on his sofa and quizzed me about how badly I wanted his cock and whether I was going to be a good little slut for him.
I promised I would be. That seemed to satisfy him because he got up and unzipped his pants. He had a nice cock — decent size, perfectly symmetrical. Michelangelo couldn’t have painted a more beautiful dick. I paused my admiration of his member to look up into his face. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jammed his cock in my mouth. My god. There are few things in life that I love more than having my face fucked, and this man knew how to treat a dirty slut like me. He held onto my hair and the side of my face as he thrust his cock in and out as I gagged and sputtered and drooled. It made a wonderful mess.
When he was satisfied with my ability to deepthroat his cock, he ordered me to get on the bed. He quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing. Forcing my legs apart, he positioned himself between them. He leaned over me and slapped me hard across the face. Fuck. I felt a flood of wetness and warmth between my legs. Getting slapped drives me crazy, and he could tell. He did it a second time.
“You like that, slut?”
I nodded furiously.
“You want to get fucked?”
“Yes, yes. Please fuck me,” I managed to stammer.
That was good enough for him. He thrust his rock hard cock inside of me. Instantly I was moaning with ecstasy.
“You like that, slut?” He asked between thrusts.
I moaned again, hands and fingers desperately clenching the bedsheets as he thrust in and out, over and over.
He slapped me again, and then, bending lower over me and clenching a fistful of my thick auburn hair in his hand, began to thrust furiously and pull my hair until I cried out from the mixture of pain and pleasure.
I was getting close to orgasm, and I could tell he was getting close too. He loosed his grip on my hair and slowed down. I wrapped my legs around his waist as my back arched and my eyes rolled back in my head.
“I’m going to cum inside of you. Tell me how bad you want my seed.”
Fuck. Another thing that drives me wild. I managed to moan, “Yes, yes, please cum inside of me.”
“Tell me you need it.”
“I need it.” In that moment, it was the truth.
He put a hand around my throat. It was like he knew all of the right things to do to get me wetter, hotter, and more turned on. He looked like Adonis and fucked like a champion. I gasped for breath as my pussy clenched around him, and he thrust one final time as he drained his cock into me. We moaned simultaneously in orgasm. He paused for a moment to gaze into my face as if searching for something to say before he stepped out from between my legs and laid down on the bed next to me.
I laid there for a moment or two before I started dutifully putting my clothes back on and telling him that I had to go home and feed my dogs.
It was some of the best sex of my life, but I never texted him again.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6m4tci/mf_a_rough_tinder_hookup
Great story, good writing. Hot.
why dont you two have sex again?i am not saying it wasnt the best sex of your life, but ffs if you like to fuck him why don’t you text him again?
I’d love a screenshot of the messages
Are you really that forthright about messaging on tinder? I always thought the best way to go about it was to never get sexual when messaging a woman. Just assume the sexual tension is there and have a normal conversation. I have a lot to learn I guess…