(33F) He breaks all of (M)y rules [MF]

I have rules: I don’t host, condoms are required, no marks. These are firm rules. I never break them; I may be slutty and stupid, but I try to be safe. But then there’s T. He was my first slutty adventure, breaking open a dam of sexual energy and desires that I had too long neglected. He also breaks my rules. And I gleefully allow him to do so.

We’re both sneaking around, so we don’t get extended periods of time together very often. We squandered our first opportunity with crossed signals and nerves. Our second opportunity cut itself short, but it definitely did not disappoint.

Late one Tuesday morning, he messages me. He has the day off.

T: I’m feeling frisky. Are you home alone?

Me: I am, actually … but I need a shower.

T: I need a shower too. But I can take a quick one and come over if you want …

Me: I have the most disgusting depression house.

T: I’m not interested in your house … ?

The devil emoji gets me every time.

Yet I still lament my messy house, my cat demanding cuddles, and the things I’d need to do in order for anything to be even nearly presentable. He flirts his way past my feeble protests. I finally agree. We both shower, I tidy up a bit, and he comes over.

I open the door, fresh from my shower, wearing the satin and lace Navy blue robe I bought after a hot fantasy discussion with him. He’s in jeans, a shirt, work vest, hat, and sunglasses.

This is where I should mention I’m not the only slut in my house. My cat is the most gregarious, affectionate cat I’ve ever met. Eight pounds of cuddle slut. She loves everyone who comes over, and T is no exception. He gets five steps in and she’s there, rubbing up against him, chirping and trilling with all her flirtatious might. T obliges and bends down to pet her for a moment before we proceed to the bedroom.

Once in my room, next to the bed, I turn to him. He takes off his cap and sunglasses. “Hi,” I murmur, as I side my hands up his chest.

“Hello,” he replies, embracing me and feeling up my ass.

We hear a light thump, meow, and chirping next to us. Kitty is on the bed, ready to join in the affection. She stretches out, then flops on her side, hamming it up for the newcomer. We laugh, he pets her a bit more, then I pick her up and set her in the hall before closing the door in her face. She meows plaintively.

We snicker and laugh at her neediness, then focus back on each other. “Now where were we?” I ask as I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He unties my robe and palms my breasts. Massages them. I moan. He adores my breasts, and I adore the way he plays with them.

I lift the hem of his shirt. Pull it over his head. Admire his muscular, lean torso and broad shoulders. Run my fingers through his chest hair. Damn, I’ve been missing out, only playing with him in public and not being able to fully admire his body. We kiss briefly and I slide my hand down the front of his pants, feeling his erection. I reach for his belt. Unbuckle it. Unbutton and unzip his jeans. Pull down his pants and boxer briefs in one motion. His hard cock springs out. He’s always so hard for me.

T describes himself as “pretty average in every aspect,” but to me he’s the perfect example of how numbers and measurements never tell the full story. His cock might be average, I’m not sure, I don’t break out a measuring tape and measure every partner, nor do I spend a lot of mental energy comparing and contrasting. Here’s what I know: he fits so well in my hand. He’s intact. And he likes it when I play with his foreskin.

We stand there a bit, his hands on my breasts, my hand on his cock. Stroking, massaging, teasing each other. We get lost in the feelings. He pinches my nipples, making me gasp; I pinch his foreskin over his glans, making him moan. We know each other’s bodies just well enough.

Finally, I lead him over and lie him on my bed. We’re horizontal, parallel to the headboard. “I’m so conflicted,” I tell him. “Should we take our time because we can, or should I hurry up and make you cum, so I can make you cum again?” Then I take his cock in my mouth.

Sucking T’s dick is one of my favorite things to do. He fits perfectly in my mouth — not too big, not too small. Just right. Lying on my bed, I could take my time. Savor it. I slowly lick up his shaft, then swallow down his member. On my way back up, I push forward his foreskin and end by sucking on the tip, gently tugging on the foreskin that extends beyond his glans. He moans. My tongue slides between the foreskin and the head of his cock, caressing both as I swirl my tongue around the head, tucked in that pocket of skin. It’s a relatively new trick I’m working on, one he’s introduced me to. My husband is circumcised; this play is just for him. T’s moans and slight shudder are all the reward I need. His hands gently holding my head encourage me, and I take his whole cock in my mouth again a few more times. Slowly bob up and down.

“Looks like I’m feeling like taking my time,” I chuckle. He agrees.

After sucking and playing with his cock a bit more, I’m given some directions. “I want you to ride me,” he says, equal parts order and request. I smile but hesitate a moment. Things might get awkward.

I straddle him and slide his cock into my soaking wet pussy. We both moan in pleasure, but it’s awkward. I’m uncomfortable, staying full upright but not wholly sure how to let go and enjoy myself — I want to lean over and brace myself on my arms, but I know it’ll hurt. Being on top is difficult with my lightly broken arm (a story for another day), and I get a little too stuck in my head to make it fun. Thankfully this doesn’t last long.

T gently flips us over, and I’m on my back. He grabs my legs, pushing them up and forward, and plunges into me. This is much, much better. We fuck like this, a steady pace with deep penetration, for a bit. Every so often he stops, pulls out, and waits a moment. Ostensibly to reposition us, but I know he’s trying not to cum too fast. The effort is appreciated.

I must get a bit frustrated and finally mention it — and in my defense, it DOES halt my own pleasure building inside of me. He says something about wanting to last not wanting to stop fucking me. “And,” he says, spreading my legs in front of him, “I want to make sure you get yours, too.” With that, he plunges his fingers inside of me and takes me on an orgasmic ride unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I can’t tell you what precisely he did, you’ll have to ask him. I was too lost in the waves of pleasure followed by waves of orgasm that he seemingly pulled out of me with surgical precision. It was masterful. Truly mesmerizing. Others have made me cum, and others have made me cum with their fingers inside me, but no one has ever done it with such speed and pinpoint accuracy. He knew just what to do and how to do it, like he’s been pleasuring my body for years, not months. Like this was the thousandth time he’s touched me like this, not the third. The orgasm was fast and furious, overwhelming me and blurring my senses. This man is a master.

When T slides his cock back into me, he does so faster and with more force. Rougher. I like it. He could probably fuck me in any way he wanted to and it’d feel good, though. After a few more pauses, he folds my legs to one side and fucks me with once-again renewed vigor. He’s close and about to cum, I can tell. His final thrust dives deep as he arches his back a bit and releases a carnal moan/growl. Fills me with his cum. Collapses beside me.

We lie there for a few minutes, catching our breath. I laugh a bit out of pure pleasure; he doesn’t seem to mind. “Fuck, that was good,” I remark.

“Damn, that pussy’s tight,” he compliments.

“Oh, really?” I query, smirking.

“Oh, yeah. It feels great. Like a wet Chinese finger trap.”

I laugh. “Is that a good thing?”

“A very good thing.”

My cat meows plaintively outside the door. If this is what broken rules feels like, T can break them any time he wants.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/npkno9/33f_he_breaks_all_of_my_rules_mf