First time poster here! I’ve been reflecting a lot on my Reddit-facilitated experiences lately and wanted to share a few stories about one Redditor in particular who became a good friend. Connections are rare and fleeting, I hope I do justice to all the good that’s come from knowing him.
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I’ve had my fair share of Reddit meetups over two years (and many, many throwaway accounts), and most of them were one-off meetings when I started exploring my sexuality for the first time at 28. On these meetups, physical attraction bubbled over into one night of intimacy with the veneer of vulnerability. I never expected to make a real friend in all this, someone who encouraged me to ask for what I wanted, helped me find my confidence, and, most importantly, introduced me to the joys of sucking dick.
My friend Mark [34M] loves to tell me how good I’ve gotten at sucking his cock since we met almost a year ago. I [30F] love to tell him about the men I have sucked off after him and how they praise me, call me a good girl for my wet, sloppy blowjobs. More than once, I’ve had another man’s cock in my mouth while I thought of Mark: how proud he would be if he could see me getting someone else off with what he taught me. I was delighted to think of myself as his little cocksucker, recounting stories the next time we met up.
I replied to Mark’s post on an r4r subreddit last fall and we exchanged messages for a few weeks while he prepared to move back to the east coast. I was drawn to his post because he seemed self-aware and charming when describing himself, and emphasized that he was looking for a real friendship along with the benefits. So at least, if nothing else, we had that in common. As we got to know each other and talked about our experiences, I was cautious to express too much interest. I had been recently disappointed on a string of dates where we had good rapport over text but zero physical chemistry. Mark seemed different. Our conversations were alternately playful and sexy, but always honest and open. He was funny and very cute, and I hoped we would get along in person too.
When we finally did meet, it was a sunny day in November. Unseasonably warm, but not warm enough to wear a skirt without panties like I wanted. Instead I wore jeans and a smart turtleneck, with a glass butt plug in my ass. I waited for him near the the bar he had picked out. After a few minutes, I looked up when I heard my name to see him standing in front of me, even taller than I expected and much, much more handsome than I could have hoped. There was a warmth to him—his face and his smile and his voice—that couldn’t be captured in pictures. Later when he held me for the first time after we fucked, I could smell the lingering scent of his cologne in the crook of his neck, the notes green and warm, too. I knew we would be fine.
I remember the first time I tried giving Mark a blowjob, sliding my mouth down the shaft of his cock, dry from the alcohol we’d been drinking. I sat between his legs, bracing myself with my hands on either side of his knees and bobbed my head up and down. I sat up, feeling embarrassed. Instead of stopping everything, he showed me how he stroked himself. I watched him wrapping his hands around his cock and tugging upward, tightening the circle of his fingers as he reached the head, telling me that it was the most sensitive part.
Before meeting Mark, I didn’t have much experience with sex in general. My first sex partner made it so I never had to think about what I was doing. He made all the decisions and for a time that was enough for me. But I realized that meant I had little to offer someone new aside from a wet pussy to fuck and a face to cum on because I didn’t know how to touch a cock and make it feel good.
Mark always said about blowjobs, “The sloppier the better.” We practiced every time I came over, and he showed me what he liked. I asked him often what something I did felt like and he indulged me. He was encouraging and patient, praised me as I learned to suck and stroke in tandem, found a rhythm, and trained myself to take his cock deeper and deeper down my throat. He showed me how he liked to have his balls played with and sucked. I loved when he would thrust into my mouth until I gagged, spit dribbling down the shaft of his cock.
Soon I was insatiable. All I wanted was to suck his dick. I daydreamed about it often between seeing each other. So much so that a few weeks later when I landed back in NYC from a long weekend in the desert, I went straight to his apartment. It was eight or nine in the morning and he opened the door and greeted me with a quick kiss. I put down my bags, and without saying anything else, he placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me to my knees in front of him, like we had planned over text. My pulse quickened with excitement. My pussy getting wetter and wetter. I was even more grateful that I got an earlier flight home.
I pulled out his cock and started licking before gradually taking his length in my mouth. God, it felt so good to taste him, to hear his moans, his hands in my hair, to feel his beautiful cock hit the back of my throat. With his cock still in my mouth, I put two fingers into my panties, feeling the wetness of my pussy. I fingered myself as I switched to stroking him slowly.
That was the moment I realized I didn’t just enjoy sucking cock, it turned me on. A lot. Getting on my knees for someone, giving them pleasure, there was pleasure in that for me too. For the first time, I felt empowered by my desires instead of ruled by or ashamed of them.
In between blowjobs and fucking, Mark and I talked. We talked about work, the music we were listening to, the tv shows we were watching. We talked a lot about sex and relationships. When I began to trust him, I started sharing my insecurities, which he always listened to with such kindness. He even gave some good advice, which I was maybe too stubborn to take. From the start, we promised to be open with each other, and I like to think we were, as best as we could have been at the time.
We met up recently for the first time in months and even though I was nervous to see him again, it was a comfort that not much had changed between us. I opened a bottle of wine and we exchanged stories of what we’d been up to, the small redecorating he had done around his apartment. We toasted to old times. He looked good. I was still very attracted to him (and thankful for it).
When I was finishing my second glass of wine, Mark asked, “So what are you waiting for?”
I told him I was nervous. In anticipation of our meetup, I told him how I couldn’t wait to suck his dick again. How much I was looking forward to doing that again soon. But I had been out of practice, too. I hadn’t had a dick as big as his in some time.
“About what? You’ve done this like a hundred times,” he said. Then he laughed. “Okay, more like ten times.”
I laughed too. He always made me laugh, that was part of his charm. He knew what to say to make me feel more comfortable. He had an easygoing confidence in everything he did that was so sexy.
Then we got right to it. He was still soft when I took off his shorts, kneeling beside him on his couch. I loved the way his length filled my mouth as he got hard. I licked him from base to tip a few times until his cock was firm in my hand. He had a really pretty cock. The kind that was just long enough to make it a challenge for me to deep throat, but not impossible or uncomfortable. Thick too, with a beautiful big tip. I started by taking his cock as deep as I could between my lips, holding him at the base. Moving my hand up and down, slowly at first, I coordinated the movement with my lips meeting the top of my fist, sliding mouth and hands, slicked with my spit, up and down.
“Did you miss sucking my cock?” he asked.
I did. So, so much.
Then we moved to his bed so he could fuck my throat. I lay down so my head was over the edge of the bed, and he stood over me while I licked his balls, licked the shaft. Then he slid his cock down my throat, and it went down like a dream. The effect was euphoric. Over and over again, he fucked my throat like that. Gagging on cock in that position felt so good, so much. Until a sudden giddiness came over me, and I couldn’t stop giggling.
When the giggles subsided, Mark asked if I wanted him to fuck me. Of course, I did. When he slid his cock into my wet pussy for the first time in months, I ached with the familiarity of it. I was on my back, in my favorite position, my feet pressed to his chest as he pounded into me. Then flipped me over and he put me on all fours, dragged me back onto his cock and wrapped his hand around my throat. He pulled my hair back with his other hand in a tight fist, drawing my head up, never losing his rhythm. His stamina and enthusiasm for fucking surprised me time and time again.
“What are you supposed to call me?” he said.
I moaned, Daddy, breathless, wanting for his cock all this time. He felt incredible inside me, filling me up, hitting my gspot with each thrust.
No one fucks me like he does.
We switched positions a few more times before he came. When he finished, I asked him for a kiss, my reward for making him cum, for being such a good girl, and he peppered my face in light kisses.
Sex with Mark was much like our conversations, somewhere between hot and playful, even silly at times. I went home feeling buoyant and heady from coming, hoping to see him again soon.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i6vipi/how_i_30f_learned_to_stop_worrying_and_love
Nice