My first time as the other woman [MF]

This is the fourth part in a series. I know what I’m doing isn’t the most moral.

………………………………….

I was so nervous. I spent all day in the lab at school, but I eventually finished around 6pm. I knew he wouldn’t be free until around midnight.

I cleaned my already clean bathroom. Tried on 3 pairs of identical black tights. I sent him a picture of my outfit. Black tights and a grey shirt dress. I had on my favorite bra for emotional support. Cute and lacey. It’s much easier to feel confident in a cute bra.

I had started my period late the night before. I thought he would want to cancle but he said he didn’t mind if I didn’t. If I wanted to we could just talk.

I wanted more than just to talk.

Around 1am he finally texted me. He asked what I was doing. I was just reading a xanth novel. I asked about him. He had just fucked her, hard. She was passed out on their couch, completely spent and still covered in his cum.

Fuck I wanted him.

He sent me a video of him teasing her pussy with his thumb. Her too passed out to move or notice. He had fucked her till she passed out. She was covered in him. He sent me a picture of her breast, I could see the shine of where he had finished.

He had fucked her hard and long. She was spent. But he had more in him. He was an animal.

He showed and came over. I was so turned on.

He had promised all week to fuck me hard. To spank me, grab me, fuck my face, to eat me out until I was spent… The more submissive I was the harder he promised to be.

I needed him.

He parked and I met him outside. He hugged me quickly and I lead him to my apartment. I quickly pointed to the other bedroom and explained that they would be out all night partying and not to worry.

We got to my room. I was suddenly embarrassed. I have a twin sized bed. Bookcases exploding with textbooks and random pictures. A desk covered in papers and binders. My room looked cluttered. Like a college students first bachelorete pad.

He looked at all my artwork. The dadaism inspired peice modpodged to a bookcase. A grafiti peice done by some random artist. The random paintings covering every wall.

I apologized for how much my room sucked. He said it’s okay and sat on my bed. To relive the tension I showed him my latest piece I had just gotten framed. He asked me a few questions about it. I felt better. I sat beside him and took off my shoes as I explained how I got the picture. I knew he really didn’t care.

When I had taken off my shoes I turned to look at him. He asked if I was nervous, if I was okay with this. I lied and said I wasn’t nervous, I was just tired.

We sat next to eachother. Turned to face the other. He put his hand on my thigh furthest from him. He didn’t grope. Just rubbed me gently. He rubbed my shoulder and then pulled me in for a hug. I held him back. He rubbed my thigh again as we just sat there, our torsos pressed together and us just sitting next to eachother.

His hand travled up further and he stroked my ass. I lightly kissed his neck in response.

He used both hands then to just caress me. Our chest still pressed together. I held him. Kissed him gently, softly. His neck, below his ear, the side of his chin.

He was so gentle with me the entire night it feels almost crass to describe it. He had arrived wild, ready to destroy me. After describing to me daily how he would fuck my face.

Instead he layed by me as I kissed him gently and he just felt my body, caressed me. He told me he wanted me to stay in town another night because he couldn’t get enough of my body.

Sometimes he would sit up and just hold me, or he would kiss gently. Any tounge he would use was cautious. When he kissed me I shook. Not a wild sexual shake but the kind you did when you were younger, the first time you kissed your first crush.

When he kissed me he would spank me. But somehow, even though my ass is now covered in bruises, it felt gentle and sweet. When he spanked me I would gasp and bury my face into his shoulder, then kiss him there lightly until he spanked me again and made me gasp again. And then he would kiss me softly.

At one point he asked me to turn around. And he guided me into the position he wanted. Then he spanked me repeatedly. Me moaning into my pillow, gasping at b every smack. That was the only time he was rough all night.

Afterwards he pulled me towards him and held me tightly against him. Kissing the top of my head. Caressing my body until he gave me the occasional smack.

Sometimes, while I was kissing his body as he laid there and he gave me the occasional smack to break up the delicate way he stroked me, I would venture lower and kiss his cock. It was leaking. He would moan as I licked the length of it. When I blew him, instead of grabbing my hair and fucking me, he would either stroke my hair or spank me hard in that weirdly paradoxically gentle way.

The first time I blew him he told me he wanted to taste and pulled me up to him. He lifted his head off the bed to meet me and tentively touched my tounge with his own. I held his head up with one hand and ran my hands through his hair with the other. He touched me everywhere. Kissed my chest. I moaned. He sat up, me in his lap, and he just kissed me and lightly sucked on my nipples and spanked me.

It was all so gentle and intimate I felt like I was falling apart.

Sometimes when I blew him he would pull me up to his chest and kiss the top of my head and would just stroke my hair.

There was so much more. That I feel I can’t talk about because I would never do it justice. I had never felt so safe. So cherished. We aren’t together and have no desire to be. But I can only describe it as making love. As much as I dislike that phrase.

He told me repeatedly how he loved my mouth. How I had his favorite lips. How it had nothing to do with how I blew him and everything to do with the way I kissed his body.

I tried to tell him how I loved his hands, his arms. How I had never been touched and held like that before. But my head was dizzy as he kissed me.

When he came I kept kissing him. I swallowed all I could, and when I missed I licked send kissed. I licked his shaft for a bit, knowing it would be extra sensitive. He pulled me to his chest and kissed the top of my head. He asked if I was okay. I was better than okay.

I commented on how he was much more gentle then I expected. He said he was adaptable. That I was responding well to gentle. That my sexual “personality” was gentle and fragile. He enjoyed it.

Even though I hadn’t finished the intimacy of the whole act made me tired. I snuggled into him. We talked for a bit about work. He asked about my disease. We made fun of conspiracy theorist and talked about StarCraft and counterstrike.

He offered to put me to bed, but I declined and walked him back to his car. He had work in 3 hours. He hugged me and I kissed him. He commented on how my ass was still warm.

I went straight to sleep after that.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8vkr5j/my_first_time_as_the_other_woman_mf