Silvia the sorry slut [MF]

I had moved to a new city, and didn’t know anyone. So I downloaded Tinder.

I got a few matches, including this quite cute girl with purple-green hair and some great curves. Her name was Silvia. We got to talking, sharing our stories, our interests, our sex preferences. It seemed like a good fit – she was a city native and could show me around. She was deeply submissive and loved a man to take control. She loved getting spanked. She loved giving head. She loved it in the ass. She was bi. My kind of woman.

So we meet up at this craft brewery. As with all first dates, it was a little awkward at first – asking if she liked this beer, understanding the rhythm of her voice, learning how she communicates. But I quickly realized she was truly submissive, and liked her partner to take control with most everything. So I stopped being a nice first date gentleman and said “We’re drinking another flight. I’m ordering what you’re going to drink. And you’re going to like it and say thank you sir.” So I did. And she did. And it was good.

The brewery was closing, and we walked out into the street. I turned to her, and kissed her. She kissed me back, passionately. Desperately. Just the way I like it. My hand made its way up her side to her neck, where I squeezed, hard. She moaned into my mouth, into the warmth and the night and the stars. I said, “I have to work tomorrow. And so do you. If we didn’t, you would be bending your big ass over my bed in 20 minutes.” She moaned again. I kissed her one last time. She bit her lip, and turned around. I gave her a hard smack on her ass as a parting gift. She jumped and giggled and walked to her car, and drove off.

My erection and I drove home, both quite elated and satisfied with this Tinder thing.

Silvia and I texted each day, talking about our coworkers, sharing fantasies. We set up a second date at another brewery. Bigger. Outdoors. I get there at 7, an hour before we were set to meet, to grab a quick drink with a friend. As 8 approaches, I tell him to fuck off, order another beer, and scan the parking lot for Silvia. No sign of her. That’s ok, I’m a patient man.

But it’s 8:15 now. I text her, saying “I’m here!”

No response.

8:30 comes. 8:45. 9:00. I text her again. “You coming?”

No response.

At this point I can’t down a fury-beer because I’m driving, so I’m extra pissed. I go home furious. I don’t hear anything from her in the following days. Nothing. I check on Tinder, and her profile is gone from my matches. Now I’m furious and confused. But I think back to old myths and parables in which the magic tool always demands an unforeseen price for its solution, and write it off as Tinder’s cut.

Fast forward three months. I’m browsing Tinder, when lo and behold, it’s Silvia on my feed. What the what. What is she doing back here now? Do I swipe left, and say fuck her, and move on? Or do I swipe right for the hell of it?

I swiped right.

“It’s a match!,” Tinder said.

What the what the what.

I message her, “So are you going to tell me why you stood me up?”
After a few minutes, she writes back. “I’m really really really sorry about that. I feel awful. Some crap came up in my life, I freaked out, I deleted Tinder, I didn’t want to leave my room.” I felt like an ass for being mad at her.

“I’d love to make it up to you though,” she wrote. If cocks could speak, mine would’ve popped its monocle out of its eye (in this scenario it’s somehow from 19th century Britain) and exclaimed, “Oh, really…?”

She says she wants to take me out to a brewery by my place. I am hesitant at first, but Sir Cockington of Yessex jabs his walking stick into me and forces me to agree.

The weekend comes, and I drive to the brewery. I’m early. I sit at the bar, and wait. Five minutes later I see her walking in. She comes up and hugs me, and says “I wasn’t sure you were going to be here. If I were you I might’ve stood me up in revenge.” I replied, “it’s ok, I’m not an asshole like you.” But I said it laughing, and she laughed too. And we ordered beers, and drank, and ate, and talked, and she said she wanted a tattoo of a big-bellied Buddha on her upper thigh so people could rub it for good luck, and I reached over and grabbed her thigh and started roughly squeezing, and said “here?” And she moaned quietly, and nodded her head. And she got the check, and then we walked back to her car.

She turned to me, and we kissed, fiercely, just like before. I said “give me your keys.” I opened the back door of her car, and pushed her inside, and crawled in on top of her. We made out like that, and then I sat up and pulled her up on top of my lap, in a cowgirl position. I grabbed her chin, and said “you really pissed me off by standing me up. You realize that paying with money isn’t going to make it up to me, right? You’re going to pay with your ass right now.” She nodded, silently; and I pulled her shirt down to reveal her excellent breasts (quite large and full, like small honeydew melons), and gave them a few firm squeezes. Then I lifted her up, twisted her by her hips, and pushed her bare-breasted upper body over the driver’s handrest so that her head was down and her ass was right in front of me. I lifted her skirt up. Nice black lace panties beneath a pair of nylon leggings. She knew how she would be repaying me tonight.

I smacked her big ass, hard. She gasped. I said, “I’m going to spank you in four sets, with thirty spanks each. You don’t need to count. You just need to take it. Understand?” “Yes sir,” she replied. I spanked her more. Her breathing got heavier with each one. By about spank 15, she started gasping. “Ah, oh, ugh, oh fuck.” I could tell even in the sparse light of a distant lamppost that her ass was already turning red.

She took her first thirty, and I rubbed her ass. The black lace of her panties was soaked above her pussy. I used my knuckle to lightly rub around her pussy and inside it through her panties, and then smacked her ass hard again. Round two. She yelped. I felt edified. I kept spanking her until her gasps turned into loud moans.
Round two finished, I returned to rubbing her ass and teasing her pussy. I pulled down her nylons, and then her soaked panties. Her pussy was a perfect innie, glistening with her arousal and shame over how she treated me. I rubbed my knuckle over her cute asshole too, causing her to gasp in a totally different way. But she still had to be punished more. Thirty more spanks on her bare ass for round three. By this time her ass was literally hot to the touch, with welts and stings rising up from her milk-and-caramel skin. I could tell this last round was nearly her limit – her moans were loud, desperate, and she was biting her hand to keep from screaming. So for the final round, I rubbed her clit with my thumb while I spanked her. 27. 28. 29. 30. It was done.

I pulled her by the hair back into my lap in reverse cowgirl. “Such a good girl you are,” I growled into her ear. There were tear-stained streaks of makeup down her face. She kissed me, hard. Desperate, passionate, sorry, redeemed, aroused. I pulled her by her hair out of the kiss, and slid two fingers into her mouth. She sucked them with wild abandon, like a woman starved. Or like someone who had just had a brutal spanking and was happy to be free of it. I told her, “you like sucking my fingers, slut: but you want the real thing, don’t you…” She nodded her head with my fingers still in her mouth. I unzipped my pants and my cock sprang out, at full mast already. She immediately dove down and started deepthroating me, sucking with great skill. I was in ecstasy. It didn’t take me long to feel the familiar building sensation, and I grabbed her once again by her hair, lifted her mouth an inch above my dick, and watched as I spurted hot cum all over her full lips.

We cuddled in her car for half an hour after, just unwinding and talking. Then we drove home our separate ways.

That’s Tinder for you.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6q8dkv/silvia_the_sorry_slut_mf

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