You asked me what I remember of the other night. I remember a lot, but not everything. I remember little snippets, vignettes, but not what order they happened in or what happened between them.
I remember a happy drunken night with you and your boyfriend, like many nights before it, but somehow different, the atmosphere for some reason electric.
I remember telling your boyfriend that I’d blow him if he let me fuck you and it somehow seeming like the most natural and normal thing in the world, a logical continuation of whatever we had been talking about, but I don’t remember what we had been talking about.
I remember him nervously fretting with his fly, and how salty his dick tasted. I remember he scarcely knew what to do with himself. I remember seeing you out of the corner of my eye, so turned on you could barely resist touching yourself, your skin somehow visibly rippling with arousal even through your clothes.
I remember pulling out and telling him to do to my throat what I was about to do to his girlfriend’s cunt, and how that awoke the animal in him. How he grabbed me by the hair and facefucked me through my splutters, finally half withdrawing as he came to make sure I could taste his thick load.
I remember leaping upon you and how hungrily we devoured each other, how I thrust my tongue still coated in his cum deep into your mouth and how you licked it gleefully. How we did not stop to undress before taking each other.
I remember that it was some time later before I saw your tits for the first time, and how I played with your nipples like they were the first ones I had ever seen, until my every touch drew a moan from you. I remember the three of us deciding we would never need to wear clothes ever again.
I remember fucking you with him. My dick deep in his guts like a puppetmaster’s hand inside a puppet. His body rigid and inert impaled upon mine. His dick as hard and large as you’d ever felt it pounding your pussy like it was an extension of mine. I remember you begging that you couldn’t take it any more and my pulling him out and giving him a reacharound until his seed spilled over your tits, this time watery and plentiful.
I remember him asking if he could sodomise me and my saying I didn’t think I could go through with it unless you tied me down. I remember you improvising restraints and a gag out of bathrobe ties. I remember hearing and feeling, although I could not see, you kissing and caressing him as he pounded me into the mattress and then you coming to the head of the bed to lock eye contact with me as I rode out the last part.
I remember sodomising you. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen: your back arched, rivers of sweat pouring down from your shoulderblades, your head turned awkwardly to lock eyes with me as I fucked you. I remember selfishly grabbing you by the hair and forcing your face into the pillow to dampen your screams as I pushed for the summit.
I remember the three of us laughing and joking and cuddling and caressing.
I remember when we tried to find out how many times you could cum in a row, taking it in turns for one of us to pin you down while the other strummed you. I don’t remember the answer but I remember it was a high number, and that you disputed it, but only by a little.
I remember asking if men or women gave better head and you both enthusiastically demonstrating the skills of your gender before both laughingly concluding I was all cummed out.
I remember us falling asleep in a sweaty naked puppy pile.
I remember the two of us waking up and making love, tenderly, quietly, guiltily, while he slept beside us.
I remember dozing to the low hum of your voices chatting and, I think, some time later, his gasps as you gave him a reassuring blow job.
I remember being woken up by your hot little hands and how that inspired me to fuck you again, and how that turned into us tag teaming you to shag you as hard and fast as we could, fucking you the way a pneumatic drill fucks the pavement as arousal sent waves of colour through your flesh and turned your pretty little face first beautiful, then ugly, then exquisite, then terrifying. I remember how your trembles turned into shudders and finally turned into convulsions so by the end I was having to ride you like a bronco as your boyfriend, concerned as much for his windows as the neighbours, placed his hand over your screaming mouth.
I remember us trying every kind of spitroast and dp known to humanity and deciding we were too tired and drunk for such acrobatics.
I remember waking up hungover, and anxious, and how the mood between us was momentarily awkward until you suggested fucking the awkward away and how our lethargic and inconclusive morning rutting lifted the weirdness and self-loathing the way the sun burns off a morning fog.
I remember showering together and being in awe of how gorgeous your naked bodies were in the clear light of day.
I remember that it was the best night of my life and I remember that I want to do it again. Tell your boyfriend there is nothing I would not do for him in exchange for a night alone with you.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/l0h00d/what_do_you_remember_mmf
❤ 10/10!!!