[M]y Very First GW Story – Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays ladies. I don’t get much attention on Reddit on my NSFW account. Maybe I’m too old, or there are some boundary issues. Maybe I just haven’t learned to NSFW-Reddit properly, or maybe it’s none of those things. It’s Christmas though, and while I normally save myself for y’all by way of GWA, I wanted to change it up. Stay with me; this is a long ride…

Firstly, this is a true story. I’ve contemplated figuring out the best way to tell it, and here’s why: It makes me feel very exposed and very vulnerable. The whole experience versus the sum of it’s parts, well, it’s been paying off but it was a hefty price I payed. Secondly – I do not support or admonish adultery. It’s horrible to be cheated on, and I’ve never forgiven myself for taking the high road as a cheater. There are healthier ways to end relationships and I want to be clear about that. Don’t let me sway you to think I was a victim. I was only a victim of being an idiot.

I had been on top of the world save for a few things – on the pro side, my kids were healthy, I just refinanced my mortgage leaving me 6 more payments, and my wife was willing to make an effort to ‘amicably’ separate following years of dead bedroom, hostility, contention, and resentment. We tried to save the marriage, at least she did. We had become nothing more than a parenting team for the previous 3 years, and I’d gone outside our marriage twice (yes I know how Reddit loves cheaters). Honestly, I looked at it less like cheating and more like therapy – Men have needs ladies, it’s a fact. Add to this that I did and still do have a questionably high libido, and meet JJO. Just so we’re clear here – I did confess. Both times. Additionally, I had a great career opportunity going (so did she as nurse practitioner). I had recently segued from a IT nerd\engineer\project manager into a sales-related role sans the selling – I had a sizable base salary north of six figures, plus stock in the company which was soaring, plus I had a ‘comp plan’ which included a guaranteed piece of whatever commission that sales earned in my ‘territory’ aka pretty much the whole country. My first check was something like $20k (gross) and I thought it was an error… it wasn’t. You get used to that kind of thing quickly. Money, clothes, and Ho’s – all a brotha knows. My humility went straight out the window.

I’d find myself on business-class flights 2-3 times a week. Valet my shit at the airport. Company black Amex and I don’t even need to justify expenses – forgot a tie? No prob, buy a new one, Amex. I’m the wing man for Bob the sales guy today. We’re on a sales ‘date’ with a prospect(ive customer) that Bob is hot for. I’m not a big fan of Bob, but the cat closes deals. It’s like 3 PM, we’re eating steaks. I’m jet-lagged. I’m sipping seltzer w/ lime because I need to stay on point. The six others are well buzzed on Johnny Red; I barely touch my steak. My phone buzzes – two texts – one is a push from my company, one from Bob who’s across the table. Message one is letting me know that my commission payout this quarter is fourty-three thousand fucking dollars. What. They closed the deal with Dulles Airport, and these were the spoils apparently. I still remember my cock getting stiff reading that, seriously. Bye bye humility. I’m immediately thinking how viable getting that cute little half-Asian host rocking that cute little skirt to play hide and go seek her panties might be. I’m fogging out thinking about this. I take a deep breath, glancing up from my phone. Bob’s throwing some shady look my way and pointing down. Fuck, shit, right. The second message, Bob’s – “Game plan – I’m taking the CFO and a couple of these guys to a cigar bar. You swap keys with me, settle up and we’ll reconvene later. Be available if there’s questions.”. I respond, “OK”. This was reasonable. I turn my attention back to the table, and on cue Bob presents the cigar bar idea, which being unethical because these fools are on taxpayer time, is accepted – not surprising. We all shake hands, and I slip the keys to the rented Range (yes, they rented me a RR at the airport earlier) (jokes on Bob though – it felt like someone ran this thing over a construction site so it wasn’t exactly the RR experience I had expected). Bob gave me keys to a Nissan – little thing like a Sentra maybe.

I shook hands with everyone, sat back down, and the server placed the check on the table – $1400-something…. for lunch. Before tips. That’s a car payment, or two. Fuck it, have 30% love – the sip of seltzer and glass of water was excellent. Humble or not, someone was going to question this; they didn’t. The gratuity was what I used to earn in a week. I swaggered out of the steak house like Rick Ross; dick still semi-cocked and safety off as I passed the hostess with the most-ess. Latina – I was wrong.

I dipped into the sub-compact and B-lined it to the hotel. Up to my room, kicked off the shoes and blazer, and dived onto the bed. My body feeling like it’s 8:30 PM but my brain telling me the clock says 4:30 PM. I texted wifey to ask about Jack’s hockey game, and Laura’s speling test (lol). Did Mikey get his grade back on that project we worked on last weekend? She called and hurried me off the phone; mostly to inquire about what time and day I should expect to be back – and that was that. I flip through some emails – there’s a *lot* of dick sucking of each other around that deal at Dulles. I decide not to participate albeit I most certainly would not mind *actually* getting my cock pol- I should’ve said something. She always made me feel bad about the vast amount of time I invested into this job. Then again, I could have almost been certain the whole convo would have slid into an argument. I’m across the country, up since 3 AM, exhausted, just trying to provide for my family – doesn’t matter.

I text Debs. Her name is Deborah, but I call her Goldberg. I can’t even recall a time where I didn’t address her otherwise, by name anyway. In *certain* situations, it’s Kitten, or Bad Little Cumslut, Sexy Nymph, but otherwise, Goldberg. This has ‘evolved’ over the past year or so to simply, “Goldy” and it stuck. “Goldy, I wish you were here with my hand inside your panties rn you sexy bitch”. Seemed like a good way to say hello and implied I had a safe flight, right? I’d swerve by her place when I got back to JFK tomorrow. I had a deposit to make in The Bank of Goldberg. I didn’t like carrying around this kind of cash in my pants for too long, and I told her so when she texted me back. Time\place permitting she enjoyed teasing me. This time, she replied with a picture of her in black leggings pulled down; turquoise lacy panties pulled aside, legs spread, and captioned, “You’re going to need to give her a good talking to J”. She was like a mind-reader, almost eerily. Nevertheless we exchanged a few more messages. I sent her a pic of my cock poked out through my suit pants, immediately embarrassed. I can’t let my balance run too low; I’ll see her tomorrow.

The flight home was fine. I was rested but hungry. I probably looked at that picture 50 times on the plane, careful to conceal my screen. My face was scruffy but I smelled great, felt great, and my level of excitement in anticipation of seeing and feeling Goldy – it was exhilarating. Last week I had strong sales intuition that we had actually reached a new sexual plateu. We shared pizza at the shore, a few adult drinks, and if memory served me, I don’t think we made it through the foyer of her place before it all just became this surreal porn-esque experience. Maybe it was the edibles we ate before dinner? I distinctly remember us discussing whether or not the *whole* cookie was 85 mg each or both were 85 combined. What I don’t remember is where we landed on that however I think we made an error.

No. We most fucking definitely miscalculated. Be that as it may, the front door is still open. My shoes, keys, wallet, phone, one sock, several buttons from my shirt all leading to the threshold of where her dining area meets living room. At this very threshold, there she is – arms extended against the sides of this bisection of rooms; black, flowered sundress; long hair flowing down her back; glasses still secure; biting her lip. But where is J? He’s sitting floor-side on his butt. I’m actually sitting almost underneath her. Like some sculpture you might see in Europe signifying the worship of some goddess – I mental note this by way of the mirrored dining room wall. My hands – both of them, are up her dress. I can see her panties and my hands are making their way right there. Suddenly – OUCH! Her phone falls from what I imagine was her hand… onto my shaved head. All you haters stand on that side. I felt it but it was a futile attempt to distract me – my hand was all over that pretty thing. My thumb found an entry point while some encouraging mews and moans only fueled my odd manual stimulation of her soft pussy. Moments later, my forefinger is inside her whilst my thumb is pressed against her clit. Goldy squatted slightly with zero encouragement – she’s quite literally fucking my finger; meanwhile I’m trying to conceive how this is going to play out.

Typically it’s dinner, drinks, and then a good fucking until we’re both perspiring and my cock is sore. Atypically I might show up at her office for a ‘meeting’ or she might suck my cock at the empty resort-casino in Atlantic City, poolside. Tonight was a new atypical – she’s got one hand on the precipice of the kitchen but the other is under her dress on top of mine. Her wetness, it’s half sticky, half watery and slowly pooling on the webbing of my one hand; starting to drip down towards my wrist – this ignites some vivid rebirth of excitement inside me. I’m bracing myself with my left hand against the floor, kissing her behind her knee but desperately straining to enjoy the view smultaneously. It’s uncomfortable honestly, however it’s also restraining me from becoming overly excited. Nevertheless I can feel the cum spooling in my balls. She’s squatted down further now, grinding and rotating herself against my hand – the sound of her – the squishy feedback from her pussy in unison with her mews turned moans are difficult for me to *not* pay attention to. I quell this by digging my left thumb into my left hand – this is effective only momentarily.

Now, let’s pause for just a sec if you’ll undulge me – I have a problem. If I get too excited too quickly, things can happen. I’ve come (pun) to try to embrace this. I mean it happens only in very specific situations, but i don’t like those ‘surprises’, more especially if I’m enjoying the ride. Are you? I’bve developed a strategy of sorts, and it’s weird but it works. I simply start reciting hip-hop lyrics in my head. Yep. More specifically, lyrics from Hate It or Love It. Even *more* specifically – The Game’s verses. Don’t ask, but it works, and I know them inside out now. They go:

*On the grill of my low-rider*

*Guns on both sides, right above the gold wires*

*I’ll fo’-five ’em, kill a n—a on my song*

*And really do it, that’s the true meaning of a ghostwriter*

*10 G’s will take your daughter out her Air Forces*

*Believe you me, homie, I know all about losses*

*I’m from Compton, wear the wrong colors, be cautious*

*One phone call’ll have your body dumped in Marcy*

*I stay strapped, like car seats*

*Been bangin’ since my lil’ brother Rob got killed for his Barkleys*

*That’s 10 years, I told Pooh in ’95*

*I’ll kill you if you try me for my Air Max 95’s*

*Told Banks when I met him I’ma ride*

*And if I gotta die, I’d rather homicide*

*I ain’t have 50 cent when my grand-mama died*

*Now I’m going back to Cali*

*With my Jacob on, see how time fly?*

OK. Just to be crystal, I’m not from Cali. I don’t own a low-rider, never taken anybody’s daughter out of Nike AF 1’s, and I’m still not clear on how The Game is correlating having a body dumped in ‘Marcy’ (Brooklyn) to gang banging in Compton but hey. Additionally, the only thing I’ve killed is probably the mood. Just now. Again. See how that works?

Goldy squatted deeper. I’m running my rhymes and spitting game in my head. Her legs are trembling – she’s contracting around my finger. My clarity returns as I slide my hand out, spin, and lay myself right underneath her. The sundress lands just besides me and I’m guiding her into a position just over my face. Her big tits are barely concealed by that matching lacy bra; one of her nipples peeking just over the top, heels still on, the thong a tragic sticky mess pulled to the side. She’s twerking, a Jewish girl, twerking, on my face. Black Rob might say, “whoa” but I didn’t say shit. I simply spelled J-E-R-R-Y over and over with my tongue. My nose was wet, becoming even more so as my tongue stretched just below her little ass. I tilt my chin up, capturing her lips between mine, darting my tongue inside her again and then sucking on her swollen clit as she’s mewing and grinding against me, almost suffocating me in her pussy. She orgasms again, maybe twice before I feel her shift her weight.

My entire view up to this point is Goldy’s crotch. The little embroidered flower-patterned semi-transparent thong has been scratching the fuck out of my forehead, something I failed to realize until she shifted – this message brought to you by our sponsor, Tito’s vodka. The next time you’re looking to party, choose Tito’s. Drink responsibly. Also don’t eat the whole cookie. I was just happy I could get some air kids, bonus hearing your zipper unzipping without you doing the unzipping. I was still after-caring the pussy, swollen, with kisses, whilst holding her hips. I felt her hands unearth my cock and her other lips slip around the head. There is undoubtedly a good amount of pre-cum going on – I know me. She’s sliding her tongue down the shaft, and now she’s sucking on my balls. I’m in heaven. And if I was smarter, I would have indulged her – we had this little irony between us.

I loved pleasing Goldy. Goldy loved sucking my cock. I could take it or leave it. Let me clarify – she’s great at it, and I totally enjoy it but I think it’s a control thing. Maybe it’s a dominance thing, but I like to be in control, in ‘charge’ if you will. I’m not that dude broadcasting being a ‘dom’ or whatever. I don’t subscribe to those kinks, and I can’t really see myself taking that position. I just like to be in control of my orgasm, that simple. And yours. Anyway, I did something silly. I drew my hand back, and *swak* – I spanked her ass. Sounds good? Welp, perhaps. It ‘sounded’ good. It probably felt great to Goldy. My loss = your entertainment. Why? Because my timing was perfect – You see my balls, they were *in her mouth*. Any idea what might happen if you were sucking on my (very well maintained btw) balls and then I power-spanked your ass while you were A) still reeling in ecstasy, B) High and drunk-ish as fuck, and of course C) not exactly *expecting* this. Anyone?

I’m pretty sure I cried; at least on the inside. i definitely shrieked. Fellas – don’t be me. The silver lining was two-fold however – I didn’t lose my ridiculous erection, and I got just a touch…. angry. She didn’t bite hard, but like anyone wil tell you – you just have to graze the balls to inflict pain. I slip out from my lying on my back and pull her down onto my lap. I pull her hair back, hard, kissing her neck, then her mouth. I rise, taking her with me before literally throwing her onto the couch. Goldy is slowly turning to face me but no – I press up against her ass, pull her left arm behind her. My right hand working on sliding my boxers down over the obstacle of my cock. Once my pants are on the floor and I’ve stepped out of one pant leg, it’s on. Goldy’s face is planted against her couch; her glasses are a little crooked; her hair is in her face; my balls are hurting.

I pushed her left leg aside. Like a good girl, she arches her back – pussy is glistening. I guide my cock full blast right deeply inside her. My terms. My pussy. Hate it. Or love it. The underdog. He’s on top. Bitch. The best feeling – it’s the feeling of where your cock feels those inner muscles of her pussy contract around the base of my cock – it’s heavenly. Even beyond that, pulling my cock out and hearing that ‘thwap’ brings me to another level. There’s gooey, whitish residue on my cock as it retreats. I go back in. Harder, deeper, loving on her over and over. I’m enjoying watching her tits fail to contain themselves in that similarly patterned bra. I’m trying to simultaneously find her clit, grab that wascally nipple, all the while ensure maintaining a rhythm with my cock. She’s making several attempts to re position herself to no avail. I’m trying to count her O’s but I cannot. I know what she wants to do. I know her. Get a load of me, acting like a tough guy. She wants to ride me – no.

She wants to lose the panties, the heels, the glasses. She wants to unsnap the bra – she has a propension for sucking on her own nipples, and it’s hot. She likes doing this while riding me. Not today though. Nope, you’re not going to tie your hair back in a ponytail – I see you trying. I’m going to keep fucking you. Just like this. A string of sticky, clear wetness descends from between her legs as I retract and plunge harder inside her. She tremors again, trying to push me away. No. I increase my speed and intensity – the sounds of the air inside her releasing when I pull out is drawing me closer to exploding.

I grab her hair. Both hands now. Her pretty neck is exposed, glasses still on. She’s breathing heavily, and so am I. I feel a massive wave starting to come over me. It’s difficult to stand, my knees weakening. I pull fully out of her, as she flips around into a sitting position. Moving close to her chest, one tit completely exposed. My cock simply brushes against that flowery, black, semitransparent material, and I let go. Immediately, a long white string of cum exits my cock, landing just below her neck. Get her pissy drunk off of Dom Perignon, and it’s on, and I’m gooone. I collapsed beside her. Both exhausted, we fell asleep – my cum covering her chest in a weird sort of way that became a topic of conversation for the months following this.

Goldberg aka Deb aka Deborah aka Goldy was representative of what I deem as my own renaissance. She was a turning point in my life when I had been feeling hope-less, and definitely contributed to getting me back on hope’s road. I hope you all enjoyed reading this – I’m being honest when I say this was challenging for me to put in writing, although I’m not sure why. I remember this experience as if it were yesterday. Do you ever feel that way about a positive experience? I’d like to know.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/efoo9e/my_very_first_gw_story_happy_holidays

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