(Editor’s Note: Hazel has a kink for degrading yet affectionate language, among other things, and the tone of this story reflects this. This is a consensual encounter between two grown ass adults, and all the grown-up negotiation and preamble that took place over several days has been elided here for dramatic effect)
“Oh my God you fucked me so hard that I’m spotting.”
I stared at my phone, a mixture of concern and pride mixing in my chest.
“Oh, wow. Um.” I replied. “Uh, are you OK?”
—//\\—
Hazel is what is colloquially known as a shortstack. Round, curvy, busty, small enough to roll into a ball. Her shock of ginger hair and sardonic grin promise a good time for anyone brave enough to try.
She came over to fuck, but because we are not animals, we had a coffee first. You’d think at this point in my mid-life-slut-phase I’d be used to those awkward getting to know you chit-chats, but hey, what can you do.
She broke the ice by handing me her phone and showing me the clip she had made of her last gentleman caller, a cute, fit boy with a nice, average dick. She sucked the poor lad’s soul out through his cock. He didn’t know what hit him, bless his heart.
She is a passionate kisser. We manage to make it to the bedroom. I ask for her safe words (traffic lights). She bends over the bed.
I’d like to say that I’m some kind of Orgasm Wizard but the truth is – and Hazel would be the first to tell you – she is a horny fucking slut whose wet little cunt positively gushes at the slightest stimulation and cums absurdly easily. I promise you, her panties are damp right now as she reads these words. That’s not a brag. That’s just facts.
So it was no surprise to find her pussy already moist under her knickers when I spread her legs before me, rubbing the red sheer fabric against her folds. I told her she was going to keep count of her orgasms for me. She said men have tried to play this game but she just can’t keep count. I told her it was time she learned then.
So I slipped two fingers into her and started. I curled my fingers inside her and she came. I roughly fucked her in and out and she came. I added a third and fourth finger and she came. I flipped her on her front and started whipping her ass and thighs with a thick leather belt – and while she didn’t cum from this, she did cum when I fetched my 12 inch metal ruler and ran the tip across her skin, up her thigh, up her spine, and again when I used the unyielding metal to slap that ass some more.
(She told me later that she thought it was a knife – we had talked about knife play, and that’s something we might do later, but for now, the hint, the promise of danger was enough to make her quiver).
Some people might think its rude to fist on a first date. I wasn’t thinking at all. All I knew was, Hazel was as wet as a woman has ever been, and I had to push her as far as I could. This turned out to be all five fingers of my right hand about half way to my wrist. I told her to unlock her phone and filmed myself moving inside her, her hungry cunt gripping me tightly.
Then I made her watch the video as I kept filling her.
She, as one might expect, came again.
I regret to say, dear reader, that she was right. We did lose count, somewhere around the 13 or 14 mark. If she didn’t have work that afternoon I might have kept a tally with a sharpie on her thigh.
Needless to say, we fucked. I fucked her from behind, still bent over the bed. I rolled her onto her back and used my budget Hitachi knockoff on her clit while I fucked her. She came a few times from that – again I can’t claim credit here, this woman cums in a stiff breeze – and I put her legs up against my chest as I thrust into her cunt, filling it, the head of my cock battering her poor cervix, until I, finally, came.
As I collapsed beside her on the bed we cuddled and talked about… something or other. The things lovers say when catching their breath in those heady post coital moments when the body is flush with spent lust and the world doesn’t suck so bad. Those kind of things.
“Was that the knife you used on me?” She asked, pointing to my folding letter opener.
“Oh no, I didn’t use a knife. I used, hang on-” I showed her the ruler, and demonstrated how the edge and corners of it could give her a similar sensation.
Sidebar: I’m a bit of a switch, and so is she. So when she curls her fingers in my hair and pushes me down between her legs, I’m more than happy to oblige, my tongue roving up and down and side to side across the canvas of her cunt, moaning as she grinds my face against her, leaving her scent and her mark all over me.
The smell of her will be with me for the rest of the day.
Eventually, it was time for round two. I felt like kissing her this time, so climbed into the traditional Missionary position, just as God intended. Hazel is so soft, so tender, her breasts very fetching as they move with her body, her nipples hard as bullets in my fingers.
I lifted her legs again, holding them tight together, shifting my weight onto my knees so I could fuck her harder, her thighs pressed to my chest pulling her wet (ridiculously wet, wantonly wet) cunt tight around me. We had discussed how she doesn’t really give a fuck about size – a position I respect – but I was determined to make her care.
I know she was cumming during this part but frankly I’d stopped counting. We’d talked about how she wanted to be used, roughly, thoroughly, just drilled into the mattress and ravished, and I’m nothing if not a considerate lover. She likes being slapped; I slapped her. She likes it when I choke her; I wrapped my hand around her throat and squeezed (briefly, children, don’t try this at home). She likes it when Daddy praises her for being a good little slut; I rolled her onto her side, still on my knees, my cock sliding in and out of her entire cunt, I wrapped my forearm around her neck and I told her she was the best little cumslut whore Daddy had ever had the pleasure of dicking down.
Her phone beeps. Its her boss, texting her, asking if she can come in early.
“Tell her you’re already cumming.”
Hazel shoots me a glare and texts something back.
Sadly, nothing lasts forever, not even amazing, mind blowing sex. With a final guttural growl I slam my hips against her one last time, her cries of unbridled pleasure ending in a whimper, and I fill another rubber with thick, creamy cum.
Her boss texts again. Apparently “dick drunk” is not an acceptable reason to burn a sick day. She asks to jump in the shower before she goes and I throw her a towel (not one of the towels we put down to catch the waterfalls of gurlcum she was leaking. Swear to God she must be dehydrated).
When she comes back, I ask, “Hey, what’s your bosses name?”
“Oh, it’s <redacted>”
“I mean her last name.”
“<redacted redacted>”
“Yeah I think I know her.”
“Oh my god.”
“Just, ah, thought I should tell you before you say ‘hey boss I just got hammered and dicked down by this big dick Daddy.'”
“…that is something I probably would say to her yeah.”
I live in a small goddamn town what can I say.
And so she got dressed and left. Luckily, she had thought to bring a change of panties.
–\\//–
She was, in the end, more than OK.
She put the fisting clip for sale on OnlyFans – I’m trying to decide if I should get my cards printed as “Just__Peeking, Adult Performer” or “Adult Hand Model.”
She was sore for a while during her shift at the day job, and as far as I know never told her boss anything. Fortunately she was quite recovered by the time she made her second job at the brothel.
Other men might have to pay, and pay well, to do half as much as we managed to cram into a few stolen hours, but sometimes, even good little girls need to allow themselves a very special treat.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/infs7g/mf_hazel_is_a_good_little_slut
I’m in love with Hazel. Women like that are rare. You’re lucky, hot story.