[FM] masks off – strap on: fucking the mysterious budtender

I just wanted to pick up some medical marijuana. That’s how all this started.

Some background about me: I’m an accidentally flirty person. I’m sure you’ve met people who grew up with incredibly low self-esteem, maybe they were even the butt of a “will you go out with me? LOL JK” cruel prank. I’m one of those people. I had a Princess Diaries style total makeover after college when I lost a ton of weight and started taking care of myself. I’m still working on the self image thing. I went through life assuming every interaction is platonic, because why wouldn’t it be, it always has been. This has led me to awkward situations with colleagues, teachers (ew), friends, club mates…etc. I never trusted my gut feeling that someone was into me because I hated myself so much. This is important because I still struggle with it, and it’s why a flirtationship with my budtender took eight months to marinate into a torrid affair.

Some more background about me: I’m a 24 year old, curvy, short chick with a huge rack, to put it very bluntly. I’ve always been top-heavy, but recently my body has changed a lot. I lost 100 pounds by learning how to dance, so I’m strong all over. I’ve also been lifting weights the last six months, so my ass is firmer and bouncier than it ever has been. I have long dark hair and tattoos all over, and I like to dress in loose, rolled up pants and tight shirts to show them off. I’m a painter, so I usually dress for utility. I’m not overtly feminine, usually, but I’ll dress up on occasion. I honestly just like to show off the body I dedicated so much time and effort to achieving.

I didn’t put too much time into how I looked the first time I met Tom, the budtender. I was braless, wearing some t shirt tucked into linen pants. The summers are incredibly humid and shitty here, so dressing for comfort is crucial. Pandemic times – grab a plain mask while running out the door and trying to make it before the dispensary closed. It was the first time I was going to this place, and I never would’ve thought a random Leafly recommendation would lead to what it did.

I got there just in time, feeling self-conscious and sweaty after the commute. My shirt was clinging to me and I worried about first impressions. I gave the front desk girl my ID and waited for the go-ahead to go back to the registers.

“Go to the first register, Tom will help you with your order!”

I turn around the partition and see him. The first thing I noticed was that I could tell he had an amazing smile, and he was in a mask! The way his eyes squinted, it wasn’t a phony customer service smile. It warmed me up immediately and drew me in. I felt a nervous pang in my stomach as I approached the counter, why was I feeling like this? Just be friendly. You’re just picking up weed.

But he was so distractingly cute to me. Soft looking shaggy hair, thick eyebrows, and shiny grey eyes. He had a tall, thick build – the kind of muscles you get outside the gym. I thought it was fate that we were wearing the same color shirt, both of us wearing one a little too tight for our bodies. I felt like we we were both showing off what we thought were our best assets, and I felt connected already over such a silly, common fashion choice.

The first thing he said to me was a compliment about my hair. I asked about one of his tattoos. We talked for fifteen minutes before we even acknowledged why I was there. He seemed flustered that he got lost in the conversation, gave me the wrong change, and misspoke several times. I playfully mocked him and gauged his reaction. He laughed and riffed with me. For one of the only times in my life, I could identify the chemistry as it was happening, and it excited me, flattered me, and made me want to keep coming back every pay day.

Months went on – every other week was agonizing sexual tension. I considered asking for his number, hell, asking for his last name. I only knew he was Tom. I only knew what half of his face looked like. So why was I spending late nights playing through fantasies of him going down on me while I sat atop the counter or imagining what the shape and size of his cock was like? I have a collection of dildos and strap-ons, and I went through the bunch picking the one I thought it could be. I suctioned the base to my wall and fucked myself, grinding down to the base and moaning his name as I stared at myself in the mirror and imagined him behind me. I did this often, especially after I would go to the dispensary and see him. I thought about what it would be like to bend him over instead, watching his face in the mirror as I filled him up with the dildo of his choosing, grab his ass with one hand, and stroke his cock with the other.

Surprise! I am a secret whore with many kinks and fetishes. Despite my history of incredibly low self esteem, I’ve always found myself on the more dominant side of the spectrum, and I seem to be a magnet for the dirtiest little sub boys in the city. I have never accidentally crossed paths with a dominant man. They seem to avoid me like the plague. It’s the obedient, tender men who go after me and want to be crushed by my thighs. I feel like there’s a Domme Renaissance happening, and I love it. So many more guys opening their mind to exploring new erogenous zones, letting down their guard, and everything else that comes with bedding a dominant woman.

That made me wonder about Tom. This connection was so palpable, an instant, yet sustained attraction that felt so “right”, and I couldn’t escape the feeling that there might be a mutually beneficial polarity between us. There was something about his body language, the way he leaned so close to me when we spoke but did not hover, his reaction to my gruff bravado matching with the submissive energy I know, the blush I caught growing up the exposed apples of his cheeks. He had that inexplicable familiar aura, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I was torturing myself waiting for a guy who probably was avoiding making a move in his place of work, within twenty feet of his boss. I also could not mentally deal with the idea of masturbating to someone I knew personally if I was somehow misreading the entire situation and accidentally scandalizing an innocent customer service employee and making his workplace a hostile environment. It would be so embarrassing, I’d have to take a vow of celibacy while I deeply meditated on why I would fixate on a perversion and not act upon it.

So, I jumped in. It was a regular pick up order until I asked him if he was doing anything after work. He raised his eyebrow at first, and without being able to see his entire expression, my heart fell onto the floor and I felt like I was going to collapse. My worst nightmare – I’ve misinterpreted everything. I can never come back here again and that fucking sucks because they have really weirdly good prices for being medical weed.

Without responding, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing, then slid the phone through the register window to me. I saw a new contact form open with my name on it.

“Just type your # in there and I’ll hit you up when we’re done closing.”

I got a wonderful vibe from this interaction. If you know anything about medical marijuana and state databases, you’d already have realized he has access to my name, address, phone number, diagnosed medical classification. He still went through the gesture of asking me out of the professional context. I was beaming at the idea of seeing a new number appear in my messages and knowing it was him.

When that happened, I was in the middle of a hit on my pen while sitting in the park, people watching and day dreaming. A message flashed on my screen, and every nerve in my body lit up. I sent a pin to where I was, and soon after, I saw him walking over to my bench. He sat next to me and put his arm behind me on the bench, sliding so close our thighs touched. I was thankful for the mask hiding my mouth as I bit my lip upon his eye contact as he spoke first.

“It’s weird seeing you without plastic between us. I prefer it.”

I agreed with him and rested my head against his shoulder. He was wearing some sort of cologne, a dark amber based scent, and for some reason it excited me. I wanted to shove my face in his armpit and smell all of him. It was a pure lust that made me feel bold and confident. He leaned closer to me when I nestled into him and started stroking my back.

He looked around at the other scattered park-goers, most respecting social distancing and making themselves sparse. I saw him considering something, reaching to his mask, and then putting his hand down shyly. I asked him what he was thinking.

“I was just wondering if I could take my mask off while we’re sitting here, but maybe it would be weird because everyone else here has their masks on and I don’t want to be that asshole.”

I don’t know if he was intending to use mask mandates as a way to relocate our gathering to a more private location, but that’s what I did. I asked him if he wanted to come see my apartment and smoke together. Of course he was interested in the plan, so we hopped on the train and began a touchy-feely ride home. We kept it PG with our touching limited to my hand on his thigh and him rubbing my neck under my hair. I had never been so turned on from so little, and I could tell he felt the same. At one point, he rested his head on me and, almost moaning, let some obscenities escape his lips.

When we walked through my door, the first scandalous reveal went underway. I tried not to stare too hard as he removed his mask and went to wash his hands, but I was incredibly satisfied with what I saw. With the full image, I could finally see he was probably around the same age as me. I was fully correct about a hidden charming smile. He was clean shaven and slightly baby-faced. He had high cheekbones and a healthy glow to his skin. He just looked like a happy person, one I wanted to be around.

As he turned off the faucet, I came up behind him and placed my hands on his hips. I told him that I was pleasantly surprised by how he looked, and he blushed, then surprised me once again by quickly picking me up to sit me on the sink, holding my waist and kissing me, deep and desperate. I could feel something pressing against me as our bodies touched, an obvious indication that he was ready to join me in another room of my apartment, one with soft pillows and a large, voyeuristic mirror.

I asked him between breathless kisses, “Do you want me to touch it?” All he could muster was a moan and a head nod. “Then follow me.”

I hopped off the sink and started removing my clothes, tossing each layer into the laundry basket next to him. I stood fully naked and crossed my arms while I stared at him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes right now.”

He began stripping and slightly hesitated at the waistband of his underwear. He looked painfully hard, with the tension of his erection pushing the elastic forward. I wanted to pull them down myself, but seeing him embarrassed and shy was making me wetter by the second.

“Why’d you stop?” I remained in the same posture, arms crossed over my chest and eyeing him.

“I…came my pants on the train…when you had your hand on my lap…”

He didn’t even realize how much that sentence could excite me. I have a fascination with making men ejaculate before they’re intending, or depriving them when they want it so badly. And it was essentially what he had been doing to me for months, causing me so many uncomfortable rides home with damp panties and fidgeting like an animal in heat. It was only fair that he felt the same, only worse, because he had abundant evidence of his pitiful self control leaking into his boxer briefs.

I uncrossed my arms and approached him slowly, gently hooking my hand into the waist. I got on my knees as I pulled his underwear down, finally releasing his cock and exposing the sticky mess covering the entire area. I began to laugh and he nervously asked me why, cock twitching as he inquired.

I had chosen the exact dildo to represent his hypothetical penis, the same length and girth – about 6 and some inches, thick, with an upward curve. It was my dream dick, my favorite dildo, the one that teased my g-spot into orgasm in two minutes or less. I didn’t admit my embarrassing prediction; instead I began licking the mess clean.

I started with the fabric, swallowing all the cum until nothing but large wet spots were left. He moaned as I moved on to his balls, kissing and running my tongue over them. Finally, I focused on the base of his cock, sucking up cum that had gathered, dragging my tongue up the shaft and landing at his glistening head, leaking with a mix of cum and pre-cum. I let my mouth slide down the entire length, sucking as I did. Grabbing my head, he pulled me away and warned me he was going to embarrass himself again if I continued. I agreed that this was a good choice. He was not going to cum again until I did.

We made our way to the bedroom, kissing deeply and groping down the hallway as I tried to guide us while remaining upright. I fell back onto my bed and opened my legs, displaying just how turned on he had made me, and directing him to get between them. He kindly obliged, making quick friends with my clit, sucking and teasing orgasm after orgasm from me. Kissing my inner thighs, he slipped two fingers into me, adding a third after my encouragement. He danced his fingers against my g-spot in the same rhythm of his tongue. I felt the ceiling open up in flickering stars and swirling colors as my soul left my body, bellowing a deep moan and covering Tom’s face with my own ejaculation. He removed his fingers and smiled, placing them in my mouth for me to taste myself, just as I had made him do. He leaned over me to kiss my lips deeply and noticed a small clothing hook near my bed.

“Is that a SpareParts harness?”

I could’ve died. At that moment, I was convinced I had actually fallen asleep in the park after one too many hits, and I was just manifesting a beautiful dream. I touched his arm. No, it was real. I told him yes and asked how he was familiar.

“Oh, my ex had one.”

He was so diplomatic. I asked if he had ever used it with her.

“All the time. I’d rather talk about you using it on me right now.”

That’s all I needed to hear. I said yes and kissed him as I reached to my bedside table drawer and retrieved some lube. I applied a healthy amount on his cock and stroked while looking him in the eyes. He needed me, he needed me to bend him over, grab his hair, and make him moan my name until he came without being touched yet again. As his hips bucked into my grasp, I removed my hand and moved it lower, massaging his ass and slipping in one finger to gauge his reaction. He released a shallow gasp, shuttering and reactively thrusting forward in pleasure. I slowly fingered him as I kissed his lips, down his neck, onto his chest, sucking on his nipples and eventually adding another digit. His breaths became shallower, and his nails dug into my shoulders while he began losing the ability to hold himself up over me. To resolve this, I swapped position with him and had him lie on his back, his whole body elevating from the mattress in anticipation of what would come next.

I asked him how big he wanted me to be. I wanted him to choose what he’d be most comfortable with, and what “character” I’d be. Would he choose the huge 11” megadick or the modest 5” curve? Would I have to be gentle, or could I fuck his ass as hard as I wanted? I put on my harness and led him to the hidden cabinet of dirty secrets, about twenty five different dicks to choose from.

He selected something in between – an 8” average girth baby blue silicone dildo. I placed it in the harness and rolled on the condom, making him painfully needy as I stared at him and covered the toy with more lube. I asked him if he was ready.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

With that, I pulled his knees upwards for leverage and pushed the toy against him, refusing to enter.

“Ask me to fuck you. Don’t tell me to.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Please, may I be f-fucked..please fuck…sorry…uh…”

With every struggling word, I punished him by running my thumb under the head of his cock, feeling the pre-cum dripping down in long, thin drops. He failed to speak above the level of guttural sounds and moans, so I pushed him further, pulling the dildo away, and instead inserting two fingers into him. He grasped the metal of my bed frame and whimpered, hopelessly rubbing himself against my hand. He finally managed to speak a coherent question, perhaps out of pure desperation.

“Can you please, please fuck my ass, please?”

“Of course, babe.”

I removed my fingers and replaced them with the toy, starting slow and going deeper as I felt his hips begging for more. I watched as his eyes rolled back in bliss and he bit his lip, trying to hold back loud sounds of pleasure. I told him it was okay to be as loud as he wanted and fucked him harder, gripping his hips and admiring his beautiful cock bouncing and already about to explode. I allowed him to touch himself for a moment, but he stopped by his own volition to extend his experience as long as I’d allow.

I pulled out unexpectedly, and he whined. I told him to turn around and get on his knees, facing the mirror.

“Look at us,” I said as I pushed forward.

We made eye contact in the mirror, his pink lips slightly open and mouthing silent words as he breathed heavily. I reached up to run my fingers through his hair and kiss the back of his neck as I fucked him, small goosebumps appearing on his skin everywhere I touched. His breath quickened with each second closer to him losing control. His cock twitched without either of us touching it, begging for release. He smashed his face into the duvet, almost sounding like he was crying. My hips began to ache from slamming against his body so hard, and I knew it was time for both of us to get off. I need him inside of me too. I was not here to deprive myself of what I wanted, and I wanted to feel that dream cock pulsing inside of me as my pussy massaged out every last drop.

I took another condom and rolled it down his cock. He looked at me inquisitively but did not dare verbally acknowledge it, fearing he would be punished by more teasing and deprivation. I stood next to the bed and stepped out of my harness, noticing how sticky and wet the crotch had become. He watched me with wide eyes as I returned to the bed and climbed on top of him, lowering down and rewarding him for his amazing behavior. My breasts bounced as I rode him and made me feel so incredibly free and sexy, that even when he was in me, I was still the one controlling exactly what he experienced, dictating the pace and rhythm.

As I leaned down to kiss his neck, I caught the smell of him again, this time tinted with sweat and sexual musk. The combination of his smell and the feeling of his thick cock making me full pushed me over the edge, sending me into a calf-tingling, body gelatin orgasm. With the contractions of my vagina, he also could not hold back any longer. My body was begging him to join me in climax. Even with the condom, I could feel him pulsing and filling it with another large amount of cum. Most of what he said was gibberish, but the most important thing was said loud and clear.

“Thank you so much.”

We lay in my bed with the aftermath of our experience all around us, condom wrappers and the lube bottle thrown haphazardly, soaked harness on the floor. I lit a pre-roll, passed it to him, and laid my head on his chest. We finished the joint and bullshitted until we both drifted off in an early evening blissed-out nap.

If you’re wondering, I have been back to the dispensary, and I still text Tom. I wonder if any of his coworkers have noticed my outfits have changed since then, more revealing now, just to tease him. Flustering him and whispering naughty things quietly to him when no one’s paying attention has made my dispensary experience a million times hotter. I’m not sure where this will go, but I feel insanely lucky. I definitely feel pretty beautiful and more confident in myself. I’m so glad Tom noticed my harness. Maybe I had it hanging there because somewhere in my subconscious, I always wanted to make sure the offer was there. I will definitely been inviting Tom over again (and again).

Thanks for reading!!

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/or63f0/fm_masks_off_strap_on_fucking_the_mysterious