“It’s late. If we’re gonna fuck I suppose we should do it now.” [MF]

First story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/875jrg/or_we_could_just_yknow_fuckmf)
Second story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8db765/im_tired_are_we_going_to_fuck_or_should_i_sort)

A few days later.

It was late. I was walking home in the cold with a bag a goodies from my dealer after a shitty week. Naturally, I’d stopped off for a couple on my way there, a couple on my way back and a couple for good luck. I was tipsy. It was an achievement, considering he only lived a ten minute walk away.

The plan was simple. Order Chinese, get stoned as fuck and do my very best not to tug one out. Conscious conservation. I’d been saving myself, just in case. As I approached my building I saw her, standing in the stoop, waiting. A broad, involuntary smile spread across my face.

The usual story. It was late, she’d missed her bus, her phone was dead. She was shivering. I was her savior, yet again. I swear I was practically hard with anticipation as we climbed the stairs. I had expectations, whether I wanted them or not. Once inside I told her to make herself at home and excused myself. Fucking beer. I had to sit down to piss because of my anticipatory semi.
I found her in the living room, her coat draped over a chair, dressed, for want of a better analogy, like a hooker. A tight top through which her nipples poked, a short skirt that hugged her hips and best of all, knee length fuck-me boots. I’m pretty sure I did that thing that Homer Simpson does when he sees pork chops. James fucking Bond.

I’d been too busy ogling to notice what she had in her hands. My case logic of shame. For those of you who don’t know what a case logic is, it’s like a book full of CDs. CDs full of sordid filth. Fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck. I felt a pang of nausea as my cock shrivelled up.

“Porn, huh?” she said casually, flipping through the pages. I nodded sheepishly and she giggled at me. “lets watch one…” she said with a cheeky grin. All I could do was shrug and nod. I was terrified, confused, ashamed and excited at once.

Alcohol. The situation demanded alcohol. I grabbed beer as she scanned through my collection, some of which were labelled with cryptic initials, some of which had graphic graphics emblazoned on the front. All of it was hardcore. Some of it was depraved. A precious couple were homemade. I had no fucking idea what she’d choose.

I tried to tell myself to relax. She wasn’t my mother or my wife or my girlfriend or the copyright police. After what felt like an age she selected a random disc with initials that I couldn’t make out and haphazardly shoved it into the DVD player. I wanted to tell her to be careful, not to scratch my shit up, but being protective over porn was likely the least cool thing I could do. So I did nothing.

Drugs. The situation demanded drugs. I rolled a joint as she sat down beside me and proceeded to press every fucking button on both remotes until it finally started to play. Nervous doesn’t quite describe it. I prayed to baby Jesus the mother of dragons for it to be as decent as it could be. Something with something resembling a plot.

Nope.

As soon as it started I cringed. It was called something like “no holes barred“, pure unadulterated filth. Fuck my life. My eyes darted all over the place as I lit up, at the screen as the credits rolled, at her face, her expression of muted shock, at her nipples as they poked through her top, at the floor as I waited for the inevitable shaming.

She stared at the screen in silence as some pretty little blonde thing attempted to act. “She looks like Becca” she muttered to herself. I had no idea who Becca was but I suddenly wanted to find out. After a few seconds she said “ boring” and skipped ahead.

Suddenly the blonde on the screen was on her knees, using her mouth and hands to deal with three oversized porn cocks. Her eyes widened and she laughed an uncomfortable laugh. “Oh my… that escalated quickly…” she said, sipping on her beer. Trying to act cool was a fucking challenge that I was failing miserably. I handed her the joint, downed my beer and fetched another.

Watching her watch the screen was fascinating. She said stuff like “impressive” and “interesting” as the blonde gagged on cock and sucked on balls. And then she skipped ahead again. I sat back down as the real action started. Blondie getting double penetrated while slurping a cock. “ Oh my…”. “No way”. “That has to hurt”. Close-ups of shafts in holes made her shake her head. But she kept watching, shifting slightly, pursing her lips. Then she skipped ahead to the finale, cringing as the guys deposited their loads in Blondie’s assorted orifices. The scene ended and she turned off the TV.

Awkward as fuck is how I felt as she sat there in silence, killing the spliff, thinking about what she’d just seen. The fact that I was hard didn’t help. Eventually she turned her head to look at me and my obvious bulge.

“That’s something I can’t unsee… guys like that filth?” she asked. I just shrugged. What else was I supposed to do? “I mean… she was pretty but there was so much… cock… I thought guys liked lesbians and shit? Have you done anything like that?” she rambled. I shook my head. “ Would you?” it was a good question. I shrugged an honest shrug. “I mean… two… maybe… but three would be… Scary… especially if they’re that big…”

The more she said the harder I got. She hadn’t fled in disgust, so sex was still on the cards. Her eyes stared at my bulge. “Is that because of the porn or because of me?” she asked playfully. “It’s all yours”. Boom. The perfect reply. She giggled and climbed to her feet, hands on her hips, looking down at me. And then she turned around and walked away. I had no fucking idea what to think. Was she going to leave? Was she getting naked? Was she going to sleep? I pictured her masturbating, because why wouldn’t I? I checked the time. The Chinese place was still open, so at least I’d get fed. I did the only thing I could think to do. I rolled another joint and waited as I slowly deflated.

That wait, that uncertain wait in a confused state of semi- arousal, limp but tingly, sticky with precum. That wait fucking sucked. There was a chance I’d miss the Chinese food and not have sex. Fuck my life. Hungry, high and horny. The trifecta. Five minutes felt like five hours.

When she finally fucking emerged she was fully clothed. Fuck. I was thinking hot and sour soup. Spring rolls. Ginger chicken. She accepted the joint and took a big drag. I looked up at her with what I’m pretty sure was pure desperation as she exhaled. Her expression gave nothing away. Prawn crackers. I almost forgot prawn crackers.
And the she said words I’ll never forget. “My panties were fucking soaked… I had to hang them up in the bathroom. I hope you don’t mind.”

I blinked. Processing. Processing. Fuck. Fuck yes. Fuck the prawn crackers of consolation. She put the joint down and smiled. And then she hiked up her skirt. Right there, so close I could smell her. Her lips dangling, her inner thighs glistening. “I’m so fucking wet…” she said, words I took as an invitation. I slid my hand up her slippery thigh and my fingers slipped into her effortlessly. Two, then three. She hiked a boot up into the couch, spreading her thighs, grinding on my creamy fingers as they wriggled about, knuckle deep inside her.

She was so wet she was dripping down my arm. So wet I could hear her. She grabbed my head and pulled me closer. I needed no further invitation. As soon as my tongue touched her clit she squealed. She tasted sweet and a bit salty, perfumed but musky. Like vagina. I licked and sucked and my fingers wriggled, three fingers turning into four, my wrist twisting, her hips grinding. She tugged my hair and whimpered “please…”.

My other hand was on her ass, my fingertips spreading her wetness along her crack, poking at her puckered ring. Testing. I took the absence of objection as permission and a fingertip crept in. “Please… yes… please…”. More encouragement than I needed. My finger crept deeper. My tongue lapped at her clit. My hand was a dripping, creamy mess.

“PLEASE” she growled one last time as she came, tugging my hair so hard it hurt. Shuddering as her insides spasmed, crushing the fingers in her pussy and curiously, pulling the finger in her ass even deeper. Trembling. Leaking down my arm. Gasping. Going limp. I made her cum. Mental high-five.

She pried the finger out of her ass and stumbled back, evicting my mess of a hand. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Wipe it off? Sniff it? Lick it clean? I just stared at it for a bit as she collapsed into the armchair. I was ridiculously hard.

With as much confidence as I could muster I climbed to my feet and stepped toward her. She looked up at me as I slowly unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my fly. In my head I imagined her doing the work, but she just sat there, watching. I hesitated, suddenly worried that I was overstepping. I took a deep breath, reached into my boxers and pulled my cock out. With my messy hand. The perfect solution.

“What do you want me to do with that? She asked with a wry smile.

I thought it was fucking obvious. I mean, I was standing there with my cock in her hand, my oozing tip inches from her face. I wanted reciprocity.

“I want…. Your mouth….” I stammered, with as much dignity as I could manage.

“You want me to suck your cock?” I loved the way she way she said it, overly enunciated, with emphasis on the words ending in ck. I nodded.

“Say it.” She was teasing me. I think I liked it. I played along.

“I want you to suck my cock.” I’d never said those words out loud before. They felt foreign.

“I’m sure you do… “ she slurred, wrapping her cold fingers around my shaft. I stifled a groan and did my best to pretend I wasn’t about to explode. “What’s the magic word?” Bitch. That’s what I almost said. “Please…. Suck my cock…” I did my best to not sound like I was begging, but I was.

She leaned in, closer, so close I could feel her breath. “Let’s get this over with…” she said, words that made me feel dirty in a creepy way. I didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t have time. She wrapped her lips around me, her tongue swirled around my tip, her teeth bit gently just below the ridge. The fuse was lit. “Grace…” I groaned, resting my hands on her head only for her to push them away. Not her thing Filthy fucker that I am, I imagined her choking on someone else’s cock. Mystery solved.

I was so fucked I wasn’t even attempting to talk myself into trying to hold back. I had accepted my fate. Crash and burn. She wasn’t holding back. She knew what she was doing. She knew what was coming, pun intended. She tugged my shaft and swirled her tongue and sucked me like a lollipop. Actual suction. I’m sure she was thinking “FINISH HIM” when she squeezed my balls.

Game over. I did the whole undignified “Grace fuck FUCK I’m cummmmmminggggg” groan, more a statement than a warning. I honestly expected her to spit it out, at which point I’d do my best to ‘accidentally’ get what I could as close to her face as possible. The ‘clumsy me’ facial, for men too insecure to ask for what they want.

She stopped sucking, but she kept tugging and squeezing as five days without completion spurted and poured and oozed into her mouth. Her eyes watered a bit. Her expression turned sour. Her cheeks bulged. She did this half gag, spitting me and my load out at once. I stepped back and watched as a waterfall of drooly cum poured down her chin. It was a porn worthy amount of goo. It was all over her lips, her teeth, her tongue. Her attempt to catch it was an exercise in futility that made even more of a mess. A glorious, sticky, gooey, shiny mess.

Yes, I’m probably exaggerating. Fuck you. It’s my story.

“Fuck” she spat, clearly displeased. I almost apologized reflexively but instead I just stared. “My top is dry clean only. Fuck.” Turns out women don’t like cum on their clothes. I was learning. “What about your skirt?” I said in a misguided attempt to be helpful. “FUCK!”. Like I said, it was a big load. She stood up, tilted her head back and disappeared into the bathroom. I tucked my shriveled cock away and did the only thing I could do to help. I rolled a joint and stared at the glistening shrapnel on the armchair. I’ll always remember that joint. I swear it tasted like girlcum. Sticky fingers roll the best spliffs.

When she reappeared she was no longer sticky, wearing one of my t-shirts and nothing else. The skirt was machine washable, according to the label, so she threw it in the machine with her wet panties. She rambled on about how she’d have to change dry cleaners out of embarrassment as we shared the vagina joint. She asked if it was okay if Becca dropped off a top in the morning. I nodded. Becca. Interesting. My mind wandered. We drank another beer and talked.

Blah blah blah. Blah.

About eleven minutes. That’s how long it took for me to go from personifying back to objectifying. The words turned to white noise. I thought about turning the porn back on but decided against it.

And then the white noise stopped. The spliff was dead. Her beer was empty.

“It’s late. If we’re gonna fuck I suppose we should do it now.”

I was in love. She climbed up off the couch, took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Her t-shirt came off and she climbed onto the bed. Undressing felt less awkward, almost casual. I was hard enough. She spread her legs, told me not to come inside her and I climbed on top of her.

Good old fashioned missionary sex. I pumped and grunted and she writhed and moaned. I sucked her nipples. Her fingernails dug into my back. After a couple minutes of rhythmic thrusting the “please” started. Checkpoint reached. A bit harder. A bit faster. Wetter. Like, sloppy wet. A bit of “don’t stop” with her tongue in my ear. Another checkpoint. Time for the boss fight.

She wrapped a leg around me, pulling me deeper. She was sucking on the unwashed fingers formally know as creamy, which was inexplicably awesome. I squeezed a nipple so hard I thought it might pop. I was entering the danger zone. “Cum…” the word just slipped out.

“Almost…” she whimpered in response to a question that never was. I started a dialogue. Just a mishmash of “cum”, “Grace”, “please”. Her response was always “almost”. Lies. But then there was a solitary “okay”.

That was it. An orgasm so subdued I almost missed it. Just that one “okay”, a little squeal and red cheeks. A quiver instead of a spasm. Too undramatic to be fake. The literal anticlimax. I felt conflicted, proud but insufficient. She went limp and I kept swishing my cock about in the spent waterslide that was her vagina. She didn’t seem to mind and it was sex, so I was going to have as much of it as I could. And then there was another “okay”. A different “okay”. The ‘I’ve had enough’ okay. I stopped.

“I’m good” she said. I pulled out. I think I tried to not seem disappointed. I know I failed.
“Wanna cum on my tits?” she asked in an attempt at sympathy. It was an offer I’d enthusiastically accept were it not for the fact that I didn’t have any ammo left. What good is a canvas without any paint? My reluctance made her sigh.

“Fine.”

She rolled over. “You can finish in my ass, but be quick.”. There was no enthusiasm in her voice but I didn’t care one iota. I straddled her thighs as she lay prone, flat on her stomach. Fuck quick, I told myself. I was going to last as long as I possibly could. I was indestructible. I had to sit up. I had to see. My cock was between her cheeks, slippery and creamy. I pushed my tip down with my fingers, pressing it against her puckered ring, watching it reluctantly stretch, listening to her squeal. She started wriggling, and I honestly couldn’t tell whether it was out of encouragement or rejection. I stayed the course, pushed my hips a bit and my tip disappeared. Hole in one.

I grunted something like “So fucking tight”. She grunted something like “unnnnghhhhhh” as I sat there, staring at the bulge that was my tip, my ridge tugging at her from the inside. She wriggled and I almost popped out, so I countered with a jab that she responded to with an “mmmmmphhh”. I kept going, pushing, coaxing my cock deeper, a millimeter at a time.
The wriggle turned into a twerk. It felt like a duel, a constant battle to stay inside her, little stabs, a constant press, as her cheeks jiggled in my hands.

“Your cock feels so big in my ass…” Genuine pornspeak. The ridiculous words, and the way she said them, were like a fucking cheat code. My confidence was crumbling. My fate was inevitable. I replied with some combination of the words fuck, Grace and tight. I bit my lip and resumed the battle. No retreat, no surrender. I would die in glory. I pushed a bit harder. She retaliated with more fucking words. “ just cum… I want to feel you cum in my ass…”. And then she squeezed, crushing my cock inside her with a whimper. I made a noise like a dying bear as I watched my shaft pulse and wither until I was limp and lifeless. My tip slipped out and the only evidence of my cum was her creamy ring. I stared, wondering if anything would ooze out, debating whether I should do that porn thing where I help it out with a finger.

“All done?” it was more a statement than a question, so I climbed off her, pulled on some sweats and left her to sleep. I didn’t mind that we didn’t sleep together, it made it dirtier, more exciting and less relationshipy. I smoked a joint as I replayed the night in my head. I watched the next scene of the filth with the TV muted and fell asleep mid jerk.

I woke up and she gone. If Becca had come over with a clean top, the she’d probably seen me with my cock in my hand and porn on the TV. I finished what I’d started, twice, and then I started saving up for whenever next time might be.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8javmm/its_late_if_were_gonna_fuck_i_suppose_we_should