It was about 4:30pm. I was still at work and my date wasn’t for a few hours, but I could already feel the excitement fizzing through me. There was no need or reason for me to be feeling this weird mix of nervous energy and anticipation. I had been on plenty of dates like this before– you chat a bit, sext a bit, try and get a feel for each other, set a date and time, and then just show up. That was the usual approach I went with. I put it on my calendar and then don’t think too much about it until the day rolls around. Not a lot of texting either. I’m a hopeless romantic, who is also deeply skeptical, so even when I’m just dating to hook up I can get excited about the idea of a person before I’ve even met them. So to temper this, I just don’t invest a lot leading up.
A was different. I liked talking to him, enjoyed seeing his messages pop up and didn’t feel smothered by it. I was getting a nice dopamine hit with every message. And I spent that week constantly aroused, but at a low level. Just a slight flush to my face and constant wetness between my legs.
I touched myself while we texted, exploring fantasies of me taking multiple guys’ cum inside me in one day. Being a good girl for him. Being his slut. I thought about how much I wanted to take my time licking him. He told me that another woman had tied him up and edged him for an hour, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Having full control over thick cock, seeing him bound and waiting for me to make him cum. How I could get him so close, and then slow down exactly when I wanted to. Imagining how frustrated I could get him makes me grin and bite my lip even now.
So after all of that sexual build up, I was buzzing with nerves as I left work for our date. Because of my usual no investment, no attachment approach before first dates, I hadn’t been nervous like this in a while. I felt a little shakey and tried to convince myself that it was because I’d overcaffinated myself earlier in the day, and not becasue I was going to see someone in person that I’d been thinking about fucking all week. I gave myself my usual ‘you’ve got this’ deep breath and walked in.
We met at a bar by my house. Partially because it was right off the train line and partially because I already knew I wanted to take him home and fuck him that night. We talked about how we’re both really bad with plants, J-swipe, the usual work bullshit. I was doing my typical nervous behavior where I just keep filling the silence with a constant stream of words. And then he slid his hand over my thigh. I can’t even remember what I was saying when he did this but I know that it took a lot of concentration to finish my sentence. He was gently rubbing his hand back and forth, slowly getting closer to my aching pussy. Carrying on the conversation with ease. But I could tell that he knew I was losing focus on our conversations. Soon after that, He pointed out that both of our drinks were finished. I jumped in and asked if he wanted to go back to my place and make out. The wetness between my thighs was obvious as soon as I stood up and started walking. I thought it would almost start dripping down my legs.
I think I told a story about how much I love watching old Steve Irwin videos when I can’t sleep as we walked home. We walked into my place, and I gave him a tour. Showing someone around my small apartment takes roughly 15 seconds, so soon we were facing each other. I could feel the attraction between us pulled taut, like a rubber band ready to snap. In a moment, we both moved toward each other, our lips practically crashing into each other. I felt our lips move against each other. I moaned into his mouth and felt his hot breath on my skin, as he moved to kiss my neck.
One of the things I think back on from that night most is feeling his weight on top of me, but still trying to pull him closer. Grabbing fistfulls of his shirt, his hair, gripping his hips.
Pulling my own hair and giving myself a slight choke with my own hand when he was sucking, licking, massaging my pussy with his tongue. Reaching my hand up to twist my own nipples and give my own hair a tug to feel a bit of pain with the overwhelming sensation and pressure of my building orgasm.
At the time, I was a bit self conscious that I hadn’t had much experience riding dick, so I said I wanted him to be on top. He fucked me while I was on my back but told me he thought me riding him next time would be amazing with my sexy ass and thighs. I don’t think anyone had complimented my thighs up until this point, so that stuck with me.
His eyes got this really sexy hooded look when he was fucking me. Like he was consumed by all the nasty things going through his mind, and that he was only there for his pleasure. The feeling of him taking me, stroking my pussy walls with his cock felt amazing. It always surprises me how free I feel when I’m fucking. I’m not thinking about the way I look, I’m just thinking about the pleasure we were sharing.
He collapsed on to me as he came, biting my chest hard. We were both breathing heavily and lay next to each other for a minute recovering. I opened the window to get some cool air, it happened to be the hottest weekend of the summer, and he got up to throw out the condom. We cleaned up and then got back into bed to cuddle next to each other for a moment.
We lay there talking and exchanging fucked-up family stories for a while. He was running his nails very lightly, up and down by back, making me shiver. After a bit, He until he looked right at me and said, “I’m going to make you cum a few more times.” I mean that was really the hottest thing he has said to me all night. He rolled me over so that I was on my stomach and told me to put my ass in the air. He began licking my pussy before pulling back to give me a few firm ass slaps. That went on for a deliciously long time, and before long it was almost midnight and he reluctantly got dressed and left. When I caught a glimpse of myself in my bathroom mirror after he had left, I saw that my mascara was smudged around my eyes, and my cheeks were flushed, giving me that ‘i’ve just fucked for hours’ glow.
The next morning, I realized that I had a perfectly oval, mouth-shaped bruise on my chest, right below my collar bone. I felt like so fully dominated by him, like he owned me, like he was branding me as his good girl.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/mypm4y/anticipation_mf_hookup_pussy_eating_thick_cock