It’s 9am and I’m pouring double bloody mary’s for me and a girl friend as we check our work emails at the SFO lounge. And by working, I mean sorting through messages to find potential dates for the handful of days we’d be in the city. This wasn’t a business trip; we planned this trip purely for dating.
After fucking every stereotype in LA, the leftover prospects all seemed to have the charisma of a rubber band. But I was very curious about the talent in San Francisco. I always knew that my LA 7 standing roughly translated to an SF 8.5 due to how good look in cool weather clothes. After all, my best look involves leather moto jackets and leather boots.
Plans are penciled in for late Friday night. My motivation to venture anywhere waes. I am naked and tucked into bed after returning from dinner & drinks. Single Malt Scotch in hand, I would be satisfied by the prospect of staying up late texting my lover back home but my friend convinces me to go out. I manage to put on enough clothes to make it downstairs to the bar, complete with moto jacket and boots.
I am slightly amused by the spontaneity of it all. My date and I text before meeting, chatting briefly about polyamory and BDSM. It was refreshing to not immediately sense the dreaded dullness of someone who has nothing else to offer except for poly and kink. I warn him I’m only in town for a few days. I also warn him that I’ll likely cancel 30 minutes before meeting.
Yet he shows up, just to meet me, a nameless woman.
It wasn’t until after we get to the bar that he asks for my name. I introduce myself and quickly remember that he is also a writer. I point out that we are two writers at a bar with typewriters on the walls and toast him for coming out to meet such a mysterious, nameless figure. Sometimes, even I have more charisma than a rubber band.
I notice his faint accent, something mentioned in his profile. It’s too subtle to pick up in a loud and crowded bar, but days after, I am still obsessed with it. We are seated next to each other and as I remove my jacket, his entire body and facial expression screams, “wow.”
It takes less than a second sip of whatever delicious cocktail I ordered to realize that he is far from the stereotypical rubber bands I’ve cringed through drinks with in LA. I didn’t immediately want to gag him because he had more to talk about than crossfit or the entertainment industry.
By the second round of drinks, my legs are on him. He isn’t afraid to touch me, something that instantly feels different. He maintains a balanced assertiveness with full acknowledgement that it is an absolute privilege to touch me. He calls himself a bratty submissive yet there was no reluctance on his part. Wrapped around my fingers, he asks for permission to kiss me. I grant his wish and instruct him to start at my boots and move his way to my shins, all the way up to my knees. He pauses to whisper a compliment into my ear before reaching my lips. Something about my soft skin. His words distract me from drowning in his accent. At one point, he pulls away and announces that LA doesn’t deserve me. I tend to agree.
His hands keep wandering and I challenge him to resist the urge to reach his hands up my dress. He fails in the best way. I feel his hungry fingers massaging my inner thighs and pull him close for more. He has to earn it. He walks me back to my hotel room and I lead him on until I close the door to tell him good night.
Over the next couple days, I send him sneak peeks at what he would be worshipping. Without fail, he offers his mouth, ass, and cock. I am so pleased.
On my last day, we finalize plans to meet at a hotel near the airport. Fuck and run has always been my motto, now it was fuck and takeoff. He sends me his room number and it echoes of my first hotel date with my lover. Even the room number is the same, but this time the roles are reversed.
He opens the door wearing a collar and pink boxer briefs that barely contain a big hard-on. I call him “good boy” as I examine his body. As I run my fingers across his chest and I begin to crave his body. The toys are already laid out. I remember being this eager the first time with my Dom and know exactly how it feels to give your body to someone else.
Tease and denial in less than 2 hours would be challenging. I start him off by kissing and removing my boots. He is in awe as I slowly spread my legs and order him to kiss my pussy through my panties. I pull him in with my legs and smother him with what he wants so badly.
I consider ignoring his cock. After all, I enjoy making a man grow hard for me. Any pre-gaming and I feel left out. I decide to dress him up in my favorite panties, dark purple lace thongs with a corset back. It makes his cock look irresistible. He begs to taste me now that my panties were off and I remind him that his insistent begging makes me want to deny him more. I hook on the leash to his collar and pull him down between my legs. His soft hungry mouth expertly works its way across all the sensitive areas of my pussy. I force his fingers inside me and cum twice before I push him away and take hold of his cock.
His cock is boldly poking out of my panties, dripping wet, leaving a delicious trail. I use my tongue to trace the trail, teasing him with my tongue, showing him what he gets versus what he wants. I finally wrap my mouth around his cock and slowly take more and more into my mouth. He lets out the most incredible sounds. If I weren’t so turned on by his moans, I’d have gagged him by now. It’s time to feel his hot cock inside me. I straddle him and lower my pussy on his cock, he wraps his mouth around my right nipple and it makes me cum instantly.
I’m wetter and wetter which makes him fuck me back harder. I collapse onto my back and he starts slamming his cock into my pussy. He grips my hips to slow down. His cock is buried deep and I yank his leash to make him fuck me harder. “Don’t slow down. I want you to cum for me, all over my body.” He pulls out just in time to show off his range. I was so pleased to be covered.
I send a cumshot selfie to my lover before cleaning up. I know that wearing another man’s cum would turn him on. I fantasize about the possibility of having them both at the same time. I lament not bringing a vibrator and scold my new toy for not bringing one either. I whisper my fantasy to him and feel him grow hard again. I need more.
We move up against the window and get turned on by the idea of being watched. I’m especially aroused knowing that my lover is at his office, thinking about everything that led up to having a huge load on my body and face. My good boy continues to pound me from behind, pressing me against the window. I love taking him to the brink, slowing down, and making him go harder and faster again. It’s always fun to control someone else’s pleasure while having multiple orgasms yourself. We finally slow down. I use words to taunt and tease him as he slowly grinds into me until he cums for me again.
On our way to the airport, it’s hard not to want my flight to be delayed or cancelled as I enjoy more engaging conversation in those few minutes than I have most dates. I left smiling, knowing that he is wearing my panties and that I’ll likely see him again.
A week later, I tease him about the whereabouts of my favorite panties and he replies with, “they’re my favourites now.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6qmf0o/mf_local_edition