I was her summer subletter. Here’s how she became my cumslut sub. [MF] [Long] [Part 1 of 2]

So, a couple months back I posted two parts chronicling what went down almost exactly two years ago between myself and a recent college graduate I was subletting from. I pulled the posts (and my account) because sharing so much so publicly was starting to feel *just* a little too intense, but felt compelled to repost them the other day, as well as include the third and final part*, seeing as it all just felt unfinished and because a decently sized handful of you all seemed to be into my story, my style, or both. (Also, who am I kidding: I most *definitely* missed that voyeuristic rush.)

I intended to recount the whole of this story in a single post, but my tendency to sort of savor the details got the better of me.

All of what follows is strictly true, although specific bits such as dialogue and particulars such as where I placed my hand when, etc., are obviously approximated. I kept a journal during this time, and sure, it was unforgettable in its own way, but it was still two years ago.

And just a heads-up: if build-up and detail bore you, this one probably isn’t for you. If you’re willing to stick with me through to the end, though, I promise you won’t be disappointed.

* Okay, so apparently all three parts, taken together, exceed the max word limit for a post, so I’ll be splitting it up roughly down the middle into two posts.

# I.

With warm weather and blue skies finally and truly here, I thought I’d relay an account of something that happened two summers ago. I’ve had a few memorable romps over the years (I’m 27), but nothing quite like this—nothing as intense, surprising, electric, and emotionally charged (the lady involved had a serious boyfriend at the time). And I thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to write it all out so it stays intact as a delicious, detail-rich memory. No embellishments in what follows, other than some “dialogue” and approximations (where I put my hand when, etc.) which are obviously not reproduced exactly as they happened below. Read on if you’re looking for a realistic retelling that doesn’t skimp on detail.

So—late May 2016. My lease ends at the end of the month, and I’m beginning grad school in another state in September, so I’m really just looking for a limited engagement type thing to cover my living situation through summer. My craigslist search was sort of a mess, and too many of the posts gave off too sketchy a vibe (as it would be my last summer in a city that I loved, I was really angling for a nice, quiet, and clean apartment in an okay-to-decent part of town).

Through a network that curates/advertises subletting situations on the nicer side of realistic options, I found Lauren (let’s call her that). Lauren had just graduated from a good local college (she was 21 or 22, so I was ~three to four years older than her), and was seeking subletters to fill two vacancies over the summer. Perfect. One of her roommates—her boyfriend of nearly two years—had accepted an internship on the other side of the country, while her other roommate was leaving to backpack across Europe and join *her* boyfriend somewhere in Germany (not Berlin, I forget where) where he had a residency of some sort. All in all, they were a professional and hip bunch—by extension, the apartment was exactly what I was looking for. (Towards the end of my stay, I found out I was paying a few hundreds dollars more than I should have. Lauren had a hard time finding a suitable third subletter, the only other half-decent one in addition to me also being a guy—and her and *(especiall*y) her boyfriend were leery about her spending the summer bunking with two dudes, so they agreed to bump up the rent a little for me and absorb the remainder of the difference between themselves.. something that couldn’t have worked better in my favor, even if I was out a few hundreds dollars more by the end of it all).

Back to Lauren. She was originally from Montreal, but didn’t have too much of an accent (this occurred in the States). She was a quarter or half Asian (the other side being white), so she had a silky, milky complexion (and a slight summer tan), with straight black hair, and hazel eyes, with sparkly hints of green. About 5’7” with cute little breasts (maybe a B cup? C?) and an ass—at once full and pillowy while also being tight and firm—that made me clench my jaw when I first saw her from behind (and the four or five times after that as well). She had this funny energy about her where she seemed simultaneously reticent—kind of shy and reserved or mature?—but also perky and sort of energetic for pockets of time. She also had these full, delicious looking lips, and the kind of mouth that leads you to believe she’s quite adept at taking dick with it.

But between the fact that the sublet room/apartment was such a great find and her early and sort of frequent mentions of a boyfriend who I’d essentially be subletting for, I was pretty respectable and circumspect with her from the start—not flirty in any obvious way whatsoever. Our first meeting (where she effectively screened me) was pretty buttoned up, and our first few weeks living together couldn’t have been less eventful. We kept to ourselves. We were both kind, gracious, and respectful, and almost never stepped on the other’s toes—when she was using the kitchen, I was taking a shower; when I was watching a movie in the living room area, she was in her bedroom face-timing her boyfriend. Our conversation was neither colorful nor involved. Her boyfriend and our respective academic concentrations/aspirations were the two things that came up the most.

Towards the end of June, our conversation opened up slightly—her laughs grew a little louder, and we began discussing different topics (living situations, friends and social circles, and even college romance—while her boyfriend came up less and less). I even caught her allowing her gaze to linger on me a second or two longer than natural a couple of times. But, even still, things remained relatively tame and reasonably innocent. As it was quite a hot couple of weeks that late June, I took to wearing tank tops and sporty, fitted sweatpants around the house. By no means buff, I (6’1” 170 lbs) was still definitely toned, and my arms showed nicely in my tank top, while the outline of my ~7.5” (and very, very thick — likely giving it the appearance, and sensation, of being larger than it actually is) cock was sort of unmistakable in the sweatpants I began wearing almost daily.

The last day or two of June, I was sitting up in bed on my laptop in the early evening, listening to the sound of the shower water hit my wall (my room shared a wall with the bathroom). Just as I was growing slightly distracted imagining Lauren running her sudsy fingers over her perfect nipples, her glistening ass popped out as she washes the backs of her upper thighs, the shower noise became a little weird—like the water was sort of sporadically hitting the shower curtain and a wall other than the one it normally faces and shoots water against. Then—a low whimper, followed by a soft moan. I was already hard and stroking myself before I consciously realized what was happening. I have no real way of knowing for sure if we came at the same time, but it sort of sounded like we did. After that night, I looked at her a little differently.

Over the next couple of days, we were increasingly warmer and more open/comfortable with one another—before she was headed out to see friends one night, she invited me to finish most of a six pack of beer she left behind in the fridge. I had to leave town for July 4th weekend around that time, and she expressed a half-polite, half-cute kind of regret when I let her know I’d be gone for a few days.

Upon returning, things were definitely different. I’ll go ahead and fast forward to the night they irrevocably became so.

I was finishing up some contract work one Thursday afternoon, and she’d casually swung by, asking me what I was doing that night. Work, I replied, thanking her for the offer and reassuring her “some other time.” Not even a full hour later and I was already regretting not taking her up on whatever it is I might’ve gotten up to with her had I replied differently. Another hour and I caved, texting her “what up,” and that I was freed up from work and was getting a little antsy holed up in the place, was looking to hang out.

She replied maybe a half hour later: “Come!”

“Where!” I reply, with a smily face—guessing she’d already been drinking.

She apologizes, “lols,” and gives me the address, telling me it “actually kind of sucks” and that she only knows “like two people here” but that there’s lots of free liquor and beer (a rich kid and rising senior at the college she just graduated from).

I arrived within the hour, and spotted her almost at once. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that, by the time I arrived, neither of us really knew anyone there, but we totally opened up to one another, almost immediately. Just exploded in a chatty exuberance, joking, laughing, flirting. Peppered throughout our conversation were various “tells,” which increased in frequency and intensity with the approach of midnight. She began to complain about her boyfriend, his busyness, and even his longstanding jealousy. I prodded her on the jealousy, which prompted her to grow sort of red in the face—turns out she’d told him I was “sorta hot” one night when she’d had a few beers, and he’s long had some confidence/jealousy problems, owing to his inability to last more than a couple of minutes in bed. Before I could fully take in all this information, and still on the topic of her boyfriend and sex, she also apologized to me if I had “heard her with her toy.” I definitely hadn’t heard her, other than that one time in the shower (which I hadn’t yet told her about) and proceeded to tease and press her, asking questions and so on. Apparently her boyfriend ordered her a dildo online a week or so after he left town, and that it was “around his size,” (about five inches or so), which again sort of pointed back toward his confidence issues (she didn’t have too much romantic experience before him, and he likely didn’t want her getting used to anything different from what he was packing).

I teased her that the size of her toy was “probably why I couldn’t hear you,” and then I advised her to size up so I could (hear her). She sort of rested her hand on my arm, grinning freely, red in the face, and let me know that I’d be the first, and likely only, to find out if and when she did (size up in toys). Almost as soon as she said this, she immediately apologized for “being weird,” and that she’d keep quiet going forward, etc. I assured her that I wasn’t kidding, and that I found it really hot when you “went at it in the shower before I went away for the fourth of July,” sort of intimating that I’d gotten myself off to listening her masterbate with the shower head. Up to this point she’d been simultaneously goofy, embarrassed, and giddy for the past half hour or so of conversation. Almost suddenly, though, she seemed to sober up. “I’m not sure it’s wise for us to go on talking like that,” she said, growing timid, even sort of stoic, before running off to get us another couple of bottles of beer.

Immediately I was regretting having taken a step too far. Hoping that I didn’t mess up the easy atmosphere we’d built up in the apartment over the previous weeks.

As she returned, I blurted out an apology (as I said, I was mainly looking to maintain an easy, stress-free living situation). She stopped me all at once. “Hey,” she said, her eyes lingering on my chest, rising them up over my face and meeting mine. There was a pause in her voice, and she wasn’t exactly smiling. “Let’s play a game,” she suggested.

She told me to go to the bathroom and wait. She said she’d finish her beer—“a few minutes,” she said. If she didn’t knock on the bathroom door and join me inside by then, we would forget everything we’ve discussed tonight — truly forget (she made me promise) — and we’d basically not hang out with any alcohol involved for the remainder of summer, agreeing that it sort of opened the flood gates on some stuff that was maybe best left untroubled. *But,* if she *did* join me, she said, drawing our her words slowly, “we’d see.”

Four minutes or so later she bursts inside, without knocking, and immediately started aggressively kissing me. This—this was my green light to drop the polite, accommodating roommate act, and inaugurate her into something else completely (later that summer, she told me she only intended to kiss me, and stop there). Her arms were resting on my shoulders, mine wrapped around her lower back at first, before drifting down to her awe-inspiring ass, which I squeezed to my heart’s content, letting out an audible groan as I did so. After a minute or so I was really starting to fill out in my pants—she wasn’t feeling me with her hands but was moving her hips around, rubbing herself against my hardening cock, sort of giggling and whimpering all the while.

All at once, and startling her no doubt, I spun her around, unbuttoned her denim cutoffs, and pushed my left hand into her crotch, softly feeling her up, almost teasing her at first, before I began messily smearing circles into her clit, over her panties, which prompted her to coo and wiggle in my embrace, while I brought my right hand up and wrapped it around her throat, holding her body firmly up against mine, so that her shoulder blades were pressing against my chest. When I began to hear a wet, sort of squishy sound from her warm, wet sex, I introduced my fingers into her panties, which caused her to quiver and moan, while I used my lips, teeth, and tongue, to devour her neck.

“Just you can’t fuck me, okay?” she managed between moans, before orgasming almost thunderously in my hands.

Her legs noticeably weak, I ordered her to get down on her knees. “Take me in your mouth,” I said, her look obedient and hungry, her eyelids heavy with after-tremors of pleasure. She took me out of my pants and just cradled my cock in her hands for about a minute, alternately planting soft kisses on my head, my shaft, and the base of my cock, just staring at it, and looking up at me, jerking it slowly.

“Take me in your *fucking* mouth,” I breathed, harder than I’ve been in ages.

She opened wide and took me in brilliantly, within a minute she’d already gotten more than half of me in her mouth, massaging the bottom of my cock with her tongue, letting me push down on the back of her head, helping her take in more, tears beginning to roll down her eyes.

A minute later and I was fucking her face—she was doing an incredible job, and much of what she was doing she was doing (I later found out) for the first time. I’d drank quite a bit, and so didn’t feel so close to coming—and since the knocks on the bathroom door were getting a bit loud, we sort of both spontaneously decided to duck out of the party. Saliva plastered across the lower half of her face, tears and redness from crying marking the upper half. She splashed water from the faucet on her face, and buttoned up her shorts, before coming up against me—“We can’t fuck but.. fuck..” she whispered in a breathy voice, grabbing my still-hard cock through my pants, and practically licked my face, prompting me to laugh.

In the uber home her hand was bolted to my cock, massaging me, though we barely said a word the whole ride.

When we got to the apartment—I’m not sure if she sobered up from the alcohol or sobered up to the realization of what she had done: effectively cheating, quite seriously, with her loved and loving boyfriend of two years. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” she began to say, facing the other direction, as I had just removed my pants, throwing them onto the couch across from the TV. I hummed drunkenly, causing her to look back toward me, her eyes seizing on my bulge, widening, and she smiled, half rolling her eyes, quietly murmuring “Fuck it,” as she slowly approached.

I pushed her against the wall and dropped her shorts to her ankles, pushing onto the small of her back, causing her back to arch, and her ass pop out toward me. I buried my face into her from behind, running my tongue along her fragrant, almost floral smelling lips, and ate her out from behind. When she was dripping wet, I began fucking her with two fingers, at first softly, before long quite hard, alternating biting her cheeks and spanking her ass all the while (this drove her mad).

Spanking her one last time, letting out a resounding crack throughout the living room, I let out a sentence I couldn’t possibly have imagined directing her way just hours prior. I said it anyway, and without really thinking. With Lauren having orgasmed twice in about an hour already, and positively drunk from pleasure (if not also from the beer), it was not hard to see how I got away with it. “Now take me in your mouth like a good little slut.” I pushed down my pants and boxer briefs in one go, and she quickly spun around and felt to her knees in one smooth motion. Without any hesitation. With the utmost obedience . She opened her mouth as wide as she could, and ran her tongue under the bottom of my cock, inviting me with her eyes to take firm hold of her head. And so I did, grabbing a fistful of her silken hair.

I fucked her mouth and made her beg for my cum. I didn’t fuck her that night, but I came all over her dripping wet pussy. She went on to rub her pussy, smearing my cum all around (she was on BC). She later told me that the sensation of my hot cum hitting her sex like that was tantalizing, and was instrumental in wearing away at her resolve against allowing someone other than her boyfriend fill her warm, tight cunt.

After that evening she was addicted. As was I.

# II.

So, after returning home from the party and having an explosive half hour or so in the living room, we both kind of wordlessly slinked off to bed. As she was walking off — completely naked, her cut-off shorts, thong, blouse, and bra strewn across the couch and floor — I gently grabbed her from behind and, just as I did in the bathroom no more than a couple of hours prior (she responded fantastically to it, after all), I wrapped my right hand around her throat, planting a few long, ravenous kisses on the spot where her shoulder met her neck, while I brought my left hand around her and smeared circles on her clit, the area around which still slick and sticky with my cum, prompting her to sort of bite her lip and coo. I withdrew my hands and gave her one last hard smack on the ass. She met my blow by shooting me a sidelong look out of the corner of her eye, a giggle, and a devilish grin.

(As I mention in part one, she was in a serious longterm relationship with the guy I was essentially subletting for, and even though she let me have my way with her mouth, and allowed me to eat her out from behind, among other things, “actual sex” was off the table, per her asking, so I teasingly shot my load on her pussy [she was on BC]. While she probably wiped her cunt clean with tissue or towel, I remember she didn’t shower that night, as we were both pretty beat. I found that incredibly hot in a weird way — her wearing the remnants of another guy’s cum on her mound overnight, her most intimate place, her milky, slightly olive skin and perfect, tight, pink little pussy caked, at least somewhat, with my seed…)

The very next day was quiet. She went off to work before I awoke, while I spent the day at home. I was freelancing and working remotely that summer, and so mostly worked in either my bedroom or on the living room couch. That day, though, I mostly stuck to my room, as our smells from the night before seemed to linger in the common space — the material traces (a splotch or two on the couch, her clothes which she hadn’t yet picked up) of our unexpected, sordid, energetic little session struck me as almost surreal.

I’ve played dom in the past, and deeply enjoy it, but am generally really respectful, and tend to err on the side of caution when I’m unsure if a partner wants *it* a particular kind of way (of course, when communication is established, or when a series of unambiguous tells is conveyed, I can take things to a fairly rough place). And, living with her these past six or seven weeks, my caution was only doubled, given that she was in a longterm relationship and I take no joy in home-wrecking. If I felt weird, worried, or even slightly regretful that afternoon alone in the house, then, it wasn’t because she didn’t give me every indication to do what I ultimately did the night before, it’s moreso that I’ve never had something ramp up that furiously and with such intensity, the floodgates bursting open in a matter of minutes. Our quiet, polite non-relationship — two twenty-somethings amicably living out a summer, trying to make the best of living with a stranger in one another — turned into full-on face-fucking in the littered bathroom at a college party we both knew nearly no one at. It just seemed so sudden. And suddenly not seeing or hearing from her gave me an uneasy feeling.

Moreover, despite the fact that she was smart, mature, quick-witted, generally really on top of things, as well as extremely sexy in her own now quiet and reserved, now bubbly sort of way, I got the unmistakable sense that she was new, *really* new to this speed of sex. And yet she was enthusiastically but still sort of awkwardly surrendering herself, giving in to something that had she’d never quite experienced before, while simultaneously allowing a piece of herself, dormant until last night, to really come out and smell the air (not to mention, kind of discovering she either had no gag reflex, or had quite the talent for taking dick — something that, as I mentioned in part one, was vaguely apparently from just looking at her, sizing up her mouth, and so on).

That night I had a previously scheduled dinner to see some people, and say goodbye to my good friend “Sam,” who was leaving town at the end of the month — this was the 22nd of July (only bringing up the particular date, specifically as it relates to Sam, because it’s not totally irrelevant going forward).

It was nice to distract myself with company, as I’d been pouring over the events of the night before all day long, and so found myself almost completely incapable of working.

My dinner petered out, and I went out to get a couple of drinks with Sam. We’re really quite close, and don’t hold much back from one another (and we’re particularly chatty about girls and sex). So I began telling Sam about everything. About how her boyfriend got her a dildo that was similarly sized as him (on the smaller side of available options, as she told me), which I thought was sort of unheard of (and he thought was sort of sexually controlling and weird). I told him about how she pounced on me in the bathroom at the party, how I sort of turned the tables, found her spot, made her orgasm relatively quickly with my hand, and used her mouth shortly after. I told Sam about her — her excellent mouth, soft supple lips, deft tongue, her vexing eyes — capable of projecting a kind of teasing quality simultaneous to shyness and lust — her incredible, nearly picture perfect ass, at once firm and bubbly in its proportion. Sam was smitten with jealousy that I’d been getting to “train” someone who sounded so ripe, so capable, inviting, playful, and fun, while also being virginal in a way — or at least not yet indoctrinated to the brand of sex he knew I was in the habit of getting up to. He started to offer all kinds of comments and suggestions — that I was a fool for not fucking her, going on to tell me how and when I should (hold her hair like this, stick your finger there, etc.).

I told him to slow the fuck down. And that it was equally as conceivable that her and I would continue our sordid little thing as it was that I’d have to begin looking for a new living situation the very next day. (Sam is a bit more aggressive up front than me. Over the years, knowing him from college — observing him, talking with him, as well as knowing the girls he’s been with — I’ve known him as someone who’s a bit of a talker, and pushier at the get go, but a little more vanilla than me when things actually get underway.)

_________________________________________________________

I got home a little before midnight. Lauren and I didn’t end up seeing each other at all that day. Not of itself out of the ordinary, but it didn’t make me feel good at all, given what had transpired between us.

The following day was a Saturday and, as the day progressed without sight of or word from her, I began to grow a little anxious. Holed up in her room, I could hear her face-timing with her boyfriend. Not fighting or anything too agitated, just talking. I heard her dart to the bathroom every now and then, but even by 5 PM, I’m not sure if I heard her go to the kitchen once.

By 5 PM, I was worried. I wasn’t about to barge into her room half naked or text her to “remove your clothes and wait for me, on your hands and knees, on the carpet on the living room floor.” She was a real person with real considerations and concerns, irregardless of the fact that I’d had my dick so far down her throat two nights ago that a good number of tears rolled down her cheeks.

Around 7 PM I got a text from her.

“Hey”

A minute later, another.

“We should probably talk”

When I read this I felt a pit in my stomach. My breathing quickened, my mouth went dry. A problem seemed to be on the horizon — best-case scenario, living out the rest of my sublet arrangement in utter awkwardness; worst-case scenario, having to look for another living arrangement altogether.

I reply “you’re right,” and that “whenever and wherever is fine by me.”

She didn’t reply for almost an hour after that, which didn’t sit too well with me.

I knocked on her door around dusk. “Come in,” I heard. I enter, finding her on her bed, wearing an oversized t-shirt, her smooth olive legs splayed out beneath her.

I’ll paraphrase this part because we talked for like an hour and a half.

The short of it (I hope) is this: she felt really bad about what happened between us two night ago, but not *really* really bad. Apparently, her boyfriend, who sounded kind of sketchy, tried to get with one of her friends when he was really drunk at a party after finals but before graduation, which led to a bad rift between them. She tried broaching the idea of a split, but he was pretty intent on working things out. She told me that, basically, their relationship was in a weird place, was sort of ambiguous. She was kind of pushing for a break of some kind for the duration of summer, and to see how things felt when they were reunited, whereas he was kind of pushy and adamant about trying to stick it out, without the break. As they’ve been together for quite some time, she caved and said okay.

She said that for this reason, it was almost less important that she’d kissed me or cradled my cock in her hands or even let it push up against the back of her throat, but the sheer fact that no one had ever treated her like I did before, no one had done those things to her, put her in a position like that, and feel *that way* before. She said that as rough as I was being that it felt less degrading than other times with guys, even if they were a lot less rough. She said no one’s spanked her ass till she felt pins and needles, while also making her feel so hot and leaving her wanting more, irregardless, almost, of the pain.

She said she wasn’t sure what she wanted. I told her I respected whatever decision she made, while also reminding her that I leave town at the end of August, and that if she was on the cusp of discovering new things about herself, and new ways of being intimate, it might not be the worst thing to see it through a little longer, so that it’s not something she’s left wondering about. And that if she’s already in a poor place with her guy, and wanted a break from him anyway (and even telling him so), getting some stuff out of her system might be the most effective route back to normalcy.

We sat in silence for a little, sitting on her bed.

All at once, she pushed me onto my back and let her hand rest on my cock a few seconds, massaging it until I was half hard, before removing a hair tie from her wrist and pulling her silken black hair up into a ponytail — as explicit an indication as any of what would be happening next.

She peeled both my sweatpants and boxer briefs off in one go, took my cock in her hand and, leaning over, brought her head down, kissing the top of my balls, near the base of my cock. She then planted her tongue at the bottom of the underside of my shaft there, and slowly dragged it up to the tip, which, as she reached the top, caused me to shiver slightly.

She took my head in her mouth and played with it with her tongue, strings of saliva dripping down my shaft from her lips, sealed, stretched around my shaft. She started to bob up and down, before popping up to say “you still can’t fuck me though, okay?” And proceeded to open wide, trying to take more of me in her mouth, struggling slightly.

After a few moments, her lips still on my cock, “treat me like you did last time,” she said in a slurred voice.

Without saying anything I get down off the bed and motion for her to fall before me on her knees. I take her head in my hands with force, and gently begin pushing her further and further down my cock. Every time she coughed, for the first minute or two, I move her head back to the tip. When I felt my cock was coated and slick enough, and her mouth was ready, I started to get into a rhythm, moving her back and forth, with my hands, while thrusting into her mouth with my hips. I hold her all the way down for a moment, filling her mouth completely, before letting go entirely, and her head bounces off my cock like a spring. I push her face into my balls, and murmur something about licking them, which she does, spreading her slut mouth all over them, while stroking my shaft with her hand.

Quickly, I motion for her to get on her hands and knees on the bed, with her brilliant ass poking out and perked up towards me. Hanging on the edge of the bed, I ran my hands up her thighs and over her cheeks, giving each cheek a tight, strong squeeze, before slipping my thumbs up and under the waistband of her panties, slowly peeling them downward, tugging them down to her knees. Mesmerized, inebriated, even, by the immediate rush of the fragrance let loose by her sweet naked cunt, I engulf her holes — messily and without much finesse — with my tongue’s embrace, moving up and down, coat her completely. “Fuck, you taste good,” I manage, as I spank my hand down on her ass. I continue as she wiggles her ass and hums and moans. I continue like this for some minutes, before beginning to finger her, slowly at first, but with quickening pace, as I licked her ass.

“Get that toy,” I say brusquely, as I step out of my sweatpants. She obeys, crawling over her bed to the bedside table to retrieve from a drawer the purple dildo her boyfriend had gotten her — definitely on the smaller side, for a dildo anyway. Maybe five inches and not what anyone would call thick.

“Is that like an ass dildo or something,” I say almost instinctively, with a tinge of unintended condescension, and not really considering whether or not “ass dildos” are a thing.

She laughs. “No.. I don’t know, maybe. Do you want it to be?”

“Have you used it like that?” I reply, still savoring her taste on my lips.

On her knees, staring at me, she removes her shirt, baring her cute little tits (B cup, I think, but nicely shaped, and with positively delicious looking pale ghost nipples). She puts the tip of the toy in her mouth and shakes her head no.

“Would you like to?” I ask, standing beside the bed, flashing her a bit of a grin, my cock rock hard, bouncing slightly with every little movement my body made.

The toy still slightly in her mouth, she shrugs her shoulders, looking coyly at me.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You really, really want to be fucked,” I say declaratively, staring at her as I begin to stroke myself slightly.

She briskly pops over across the bed towards me and sort of sits on the edge, giving her fingers a heavy lick, transferring her saliva onto the head of the toy, and slowly slides it in her already extremely wet pussy, as she grabs my cock and opens her mouth around it, letting out a low moan as she essentially sit onto the toy, letting its inches sink into her. I let her suck me at her own pace, allowing her to enjoy the sensation of having her pussy and mouth filled at the same time.

After a few minutes, she looks up at me, stroking still, and asks if I could put “just the head” in her — I was a good deal thicker than her toy, and warm, not made out of plastic, etc. I was honestly surprised she’d waited that long to ask. So I didn’t hesitate when she finally did.

She leaned back, her legs rising up above her, ultimately resting on my shoulders, as I smeared her clit a little with my thumb, and slowly introduced the head of my cock into her tight little cunt. She inhaled deeply, clasping shut her eyes as I did. “Just another inch or two — but no more, okay?” she managed. I abided, allowing myself to slip into her just a little further. At this point, I could feel myself stretching her — her pussy lips fastened tight around the upper portion of my shaft. “Fuck,” she muttered, eyes still closed tight.

I pulled out, suddenly. Her eyes open. “Taste yourself,” I tell her, practically ordering her. She looks at me for a second, sort of crooks her eyes, before smiling slyly, and brings her mouth back onto my cock, passionately licking me, one hand on my balls, the other working my shaft, her tongue massaging my head and the underside of my first few inches, licking up her fragrance, her stickiness, her taste.

“Okay, I’m sorry, just do it,” she says all at once, leaning back, her hand finding her clit as she stares at me, her eyes falling from my eyes down to my cock, bouncing, glistening before her, inches from her tight, warm, delicious, ever so needy little cunt.

I’ve gone on way too long. I fucked her that night. I fucked her softly, at first, as she slowly accommodated herself to my size. And then I fucked her hard, and fast, and then slowly, letting her feel all of my inches, letting her feel herself being stretched. I fucked her fast and hard, and then slow, as she was recovering from a thunderous, thigh-quivering orgasm, and then fast again, and so on. At one point I had the dildo in her ass while I was fucking her (I held the toy a few inches inside of her ass while I was fucking her from behind — not fully fucking her with the toy, though, as she was definitely not used to anything like that, and I think it wouldn’t have been pleasurable).

I pumped her pussy with my cum (she was on the pill, as I’ve said), my face inches from hers as I did so, kissing tenderly all the while. Afterwards, I told her to clean my cock with her mouth, something she got in the habit of doing nearly every time over the course of the next weeks.

And that was the first day we’d really settled into our dynamic. In short, I became her first dom.

We texted some while she was at work two days later, on Monday. She was wearing a dress of some kind (summer dress?); I instructed her to remove her panties a little after lunch, and put them in her bag for the rest of the day.

The next day, on Tuesday, I told her to remove her bra. She was wearing a t-shirt type of blouse, and they run the AC like mad in her office, so her nipples were standing at attention nearly all day long. She worked in a casual, creative environment, her coworkers mostly in their 20s and 30s — she said she caught the attention of quite of few of the guys, and even some girls. At around 4 PM she asked for permission to go to the bathroom stall to get herself off.

We didn’t do anything on Wednesday, and in fact stopped playing our games while she was at the office, as she found it a little too distracting to get any work done, and she’s a pretty professional, ambitious person, so it just didn’t really work out (she also didn’t want any weird office drama, etc.).

But I lit a hunger in her, for sure. She came home Wednesday wanting more. She missed being owned and ordered, she missed getting off, and she missed the rush. We concluded we were ready for a next step of sorts.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/95zf5v/i_was_her_summer_subletter_heres_how_she_became

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