The rich girl who liked being bred [MF]

[I decided to share another story after submitting my [first](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/penmif/i_fucked_the_thick_chick_from_the_supermarket_fm/) and [second](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/pfzyev/facefucking_the_girl_from_the_pub_quiz_fm/) several days ago; this one is pretty drawn-out but that’s how it went down and how it still feels in my head! It all happened a few years ago so I’m working off memory–particularly for the tidbits of dialogue, though in retrospect I’ve found those the hardest part to forget]

A couple years out of uni I went through an especially sex-crazed stage of life. I have always had a high libido but this time it was like my brain was at most a co-pilot. I was on Tinder a ton and one of the first things I did when entering this phase was to widen the age and distance brackets on my profile. This worked great; I was living in a big city but public transport made it relatively easy to vary up my dating life (mostly fucking lots of pent-up tourists, lol) with the occasional adventure into the wild, and I still cherish a lot of these small town hookups–plus a lot of women were willing to travel into town to meet, which I hadn’t expected, and it’s very fun and flattering to have a fwb who is so amped up they’ll take the train just to fuck you.

One of the girls I matched with during this period had gone to the same uni as me and was actually still finishing out her final year. We were only two years apart but I’d never met her and had been in an on-and-off relationship for most of my degree; the prospect of fucking someone from uni after graduating made me feel kinda seedy–was I really going to try and ~relive my glory days~ or whatever by dating some student after I’d graduated?–but her Tinder pictures were more than enough to shut my inner monologue the fuck up. She had a wide smile, wide hips, and this huge mane of auburn-blonde hair. She also had a long and formal bio on the app which was pretty no-nonsense except that, after listing a lot of facts about her background, she’d added she was “on birth control”. I found myself rereading this a few times after we’d matched—curious but not exactly sure it meant what I thought it meant.

The first time we met up was for coffee near where I lived– she was coming into the city to see some friends and said she wanted to see me before she got the train back home. I do not really drink coffee and asked some friends who did for the best place within a five block radius of my flat–I don’t know why I thought I was gonna take a girl home for sex straight after a 3pm coffee, but I was 24 and my brain wasn’t calling the shots.

I met this woman, who we’ll call Karina, a short distance from the city center and when I spotted her in the crowd (easy to do–that hair was very distinctive) my heart skipped a beat. She looked even better than she had in her photos! Skin a shade above bronze, sharp facial features, and a naturally voluptuous figure tempered by lots of tennis. She was around half a foot shorter than me with what I can only describe as a rich girl’s fashion sense–compared to my grungy after-academia lifestyle she was very glossy, with a big cream-colored coat that had faux-fur along a couple places at the hem. She saw me, flashed this perfect white smile and headed straight over.

Coffee was nice but there was more tension in the air than I’d thought; it seemed VERY formal, but I did learn a lot about her. Karina had a big wealthy family back in the former bloc country where she’d been born; she’d studied something as eccentric, ill-advised and unmarketable as I had but had poise and a background which would take her far. She talked about her socially conservative upbringing and how she’d distanced herself from it after she left home. We had some similar interests though she was obviously a little more serious about life after school than I’d been. I was digging her but I’d been down the relationship-with-a-ten-year-plan-and-every-beat-thought-out road before and wasn’t sure I could give her something buttoned up (which tbf I’d been up-front about on Tinder).

I was much more interested in something buttoned down and tried but failed to keep my eyes where they should be. Karina wore distinctive, stylized makeup that brought out her eyes and had perky tits which really suited her figure (I’d guess either DDs or big Ds that she really knew how to accentuate), long eyelashes, and manicured fingernails that made little clinking sounds against her cup of coffee, but the place my eyes really kept lingering was on all those heavy curls of honey-red hair. Oh my god, her hair. It framed her face, occasionally covering an eye when she leaned forward or shook her head, and fell down to tumble and unspool all over her shoulders and upper arms. And there was just. so. much of it!! I’ve always had a thing for big hair, especially thicker hair with some volume–blowouts or afros being my absolute favorite–and I was definitely super into this girl’s look. More than once I caught Karina’s eyes wandering too, and felt them running all over my hands and my forearms.

When we were getting to what seemed like a natural ending point in the date, I unabashedly asked if she wanted to have another drink at my place. Karina asked me to clarify and seemed annoyed for a second—she flashed me a smile that felt more like “I know what you want” than a show of enthusiasm–and I was ready to accept I’d struck out when her smile became a little more curious and she said sure. I had a bit of whiplash but was obviously thrilled; we paid and I offered her my arm for the (comically short) walk back to my place. I enjoyed feeling her against me–I hadn’t seen much of her lower body given the coat but I could feel her hips moving with her pressed into my side. As we reached my building I shifted my arm so I could wrap it around her waist and pull her in, and she grinned up at me as I did.

Upstairs in my flat (I lived alone at the time, in a tiny little studio) I asked her to make herself comfortable. She looked around my admittedly cramped flat, laughed for a second, and asked, “How?” It was a very pointed joke but I also laughed and told her the bed was pretty comfortable (this was self-serving but I did have a good mattress). She took off her big coat and moved to perch on the side of my bed while I poured us each a glass of wine and joined her. We talked for a few minutes, picking up where we left off, and I let my compliments (which I’d also poured on thick before and during our date) linger on her looks. She made a few little “hmmm” sounds without responding to them immediately and one of her hands made its way to my thigh just above the knee. I breathed in her perfume and watched her eyes make their way up me from my leg until she was looking back at me. She smiled again as I leaned in. The way we kissed was tender and tentative–like a series of gentle questions and answers–and when she leaned further against me it things to heat up fast, but just before we both laid back on the mattress, she pulled away with one hand on my chest and said she’d better get going or she’d miss her train.

I was thrown–my dick and I were absolutely ready to go, and I’d been getting all the right signals–but I nodded and said of course. I went for her coat and as I considered esking why she’d changed her mind, she spoke up and told me she wanted this but said “I think if I stay longer I’ll make some snap decisions”. I appreciated her explanation and hid my dejection pretty well. She accepted my offer to walk her to the station and snuggled back into me with her full and fucking phenomenal hips as we set off. We couldn’t have been upstairs for more than fifteen minutes.

I was still pretty thrown; we’d both relaxed a little and the walk to the station was more flirty than our earlier conversation, but I still didn’t know what the fuck was going on here. In retrospect my best guess is that she was worried I’d like her less if we fucked on the first date, but at the time I was sure I’d done something wrong. Did I suck at kissing suddenly? Was my apartment THAT small? Even her saying she was looking forward to our next date didn’t completely convince me that she’d actually want one. I really did think I was hiding my disappointment well, and when she pulled me in for a kiss before heading to her platform I just assumed it was a very lovely little consolation prize, as was watching her flounce away in that big coat with all her curls bouncing.

I’d feel like a complete bastard if the story ended here, and thankfully for both reader and writer, it didn’t. By the time I got back to my flat and that almost-untouched bottle of wine, I already had a sweet message from her asking when we could do this again. I still wasn’t sure what to think, and a part of me thought it might be best to call it here after all the confusion, but the memory of her seated on my mattress (fuck there’s something so hot about a girl with big hips sitting herself down–I guess it’s the way the thighs smush outward a little?) gave me lots of ideas about the other ways she’d look laid out on it. It was impossible to resist shooting my shot and going for round 2.

We went on several more dates which were similar to the first one. Formal at the start, then back to somewhere intimate, and just when things were about to get hot and heavy she’d call time. Our second date was at her (super nice) place not far from uni and felt very surreal; I literally had her shirt off and was kissing down her back when she asked if I was okay sleeping on the couch. Obviously I raised no objection but I was once again very VERY confused lol. I took home a handful of women between our dates but I couldn’t get those curls out of my daydreams. Again, with hindsight, she likely had some latent suppositions about moving too fast even when though we both weren’t looking for something super serious. Despite how turned-around I felt, I did enjoy the challenge.

A couple months later we were both back in my city; she was seeing off friends for the summer and asked if I’d join them for drinks. If she’d said they were going bear-baiting all the built-up desire still would have made me consider it. Karina’s friends were also posh and I felt exceedingly out of place; I’d spent my time in uni drinking pints as opposed to bubbly, but I could still keep up. She was poised as always, drinking less but sliding her hand through the crook of my elbow and, a couple drinks later, exploring a little under the table. She gave me a look as we were all talking that made me extremely aware of my cock. Something had changed, or maybe nothing had but enough time had passed. Oh, shit–this was going to happen!

The night ended late–too late for her to catch a train. If I’d been smarter or less fixated on her new slinky outfit and the way it pushed out her chest, I’d have realized this was part of her plan. She didn’t ask to stay over; she just sort of told me she would. My heart was fucking racing. Before long we were once again back up in my little studio and she slowly lowered herself down onto the side of my bed as I brought her something to drink. When we clinked glasses she already had her other hand over me, moving along the fabric covering my cock. She said she’d also been waiting. I pulled her to me and ran my hands through her hair as we finally pounced on each other.

She had poise over more than just coffee. She moved against me as we started taking each other apart. All Karina’s movements were languid but very responsive. When I cupped her breasts and took one of her nipples into my mouth, she arched her whole back, threw her head backward and whispered something I didn’t understand (she’d flit interchangeably between her native language and English). She made happy moans when I held her more forcefully–squeezing her ass, pinning her wrist, massaging one of her calves–so I held her down and moved my tongue over her while she twisted in my grip. She went a little wide-eyed when I let her undo my belt–she was a bit less experienced than me and while I don’t think I’m some hall-of-famer, I’m def not ashamed of what I’ve got and a hard dick probably always takes a moment to process. I absolutely loved her hands and the way she pumped me so I told her as much as she pumped.

Then she asked if we could slow down for a second. You had better believe I had to breathe in and out for a second. I was expecting this to be the new cutoff point for Karina, but “blueballs” is bullshit imo and I found it difficult to feel unhappy with her there to look at. She was laid on her side and holy fucking hell she was shapely–the rise and of her hip and her full breasts with those taut nipples, god fucking damn. It took me a second to realize this was not her stopping us–she wanted to clarify something, and as she did she kept oh-so-slowly pumping my cock. Finally the birth control thing came back up. I’m paraphrasing a little but this was the first time I’d ever seen her being remotely nervous; she said “I am taking birth control but I like the idea of not taking it. It’s–I like it a lot. Would you be okay not using a condom?”

I just nodded. I’ve never been one of those guys who complains about condoms but she and I’d been on a lot of dates and I trusted her–plus it wasn’t hard to tell that this nervousness came from admission and not affectation. She leaned in and kissed me, throwing one leg over mine and pressing her tits against my chest. Fuck. Good things come to those who wait!

She was not lying about this being a big thing for her. I had unfairly and unconsciously assumed she would be a bit of a princess (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) but she turned out to love getting fucked rough. First I took her with her back to the mattress, kissing her hard and biting at her neck as I thrust inside of her. She threw her head back again and clenched her jaw in that way that made her neck muscles stand out; I pushed deep into her and used my hips rather than my legs to take her hard. Watching as her tits and her stray curls of hair bounced on the mattress was complete fucking heaven. She was very flexible, too, and one leg ended up pulling me deeper while I held her other calf tight to my chest and neck to keep her at an open angle. As I fucked her she snaked one hand down herself, first playing with one of her breasts and then moving to rub her clit. I gritted my teeth and did my best not to fill her up then and there, which given how she looked bouncing up and down against me wasn’t easy. As she got closer she spoke a little less and I kept up the rhythm while she toyed with herself faster. I still had one of Karina’s legs gripped tight to me and I felt the shivers go through her and down into her calves when she came. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at me. I remember she asked me to fuck her “on all fours” (maybe a language barrier thing or I just wasn’t used to hearing it described that way) and before I could even reply she was twisting herself off me and positioning herself in the center of the bed.

I got behind her and went to work. God fucking damn she looked so good—those wide hips and the curve of her ass, and then just all that pretty hair falling down over her back and her shoulders. She didn’t arch her back as I rubbed my cock against her wet cunt—she waited until I put my palms on her just above her waist, as if she’d wanted me to push her into position myself, and after that she was just putty. I switched it up to give myself some more time and began long, slow thrusts while pulling her further back onto me over and over—I’d only been fucking her like that for a short time when (without looking back at me) she asked if I was going to cum. I told her I would soon—not sure if she was nearing the end of her stamina—and she talked dirty nonstop after that. “Fuck yes. I want it. God I fucking want it. Give me your cum. I want to feel you fucking filling me up with your cum…”

This definitely didn’t make me slow down and I gripped her a little tighter, leaning further forward over her and groaning with pleasure. She just kept going. “I want it. I want to take it. I want you to give it to me. Fucking give it to me.” She switched languages but it wasn’t hard to tell she was saying more of the same. I bucked with my pelvic muscles and told her how I loved her hips. She said they were for this—“for taking it.” I was fucking her senseless at this point, just letting my muscle instincts completely take over. She asked if she was a good fuck and I told her yes over and over. When I told her I was getting close she ramped it up, her voice sharper: “Fuck yes. I want you to fill me. Put it in me. Fucking put it in me!” When I began cumming I felt her bend forward further and move her hips on me—she was like a fucking machine. It felt incredible—I was seeing stars but I could already feel her rubbing her clit again as I reached the end of my orgasm and pumped the last bursts of my load into her. I’d assumed she might want to keep going but she declined, even while she kept slowly rubbing her pussy and her clit and moving her hips up and down after I’d pulled away from her. I got the sense this was part of it for her too—feeling me in her and spilling out of her like that.

With weeks-long tension broken (and having learned how much she liked getting fucked bareback) meeting for sex became a regular thing for about half a year. As we got more accustomed to each other we developed a rhythm—not just physically but with the dirty talk too; whenever I’d match her energy she’d get even more audacious. I’d hold her down and tell her how good she looked taking my cum, and she’d moan and curse and buck back on me and tell me she wanted me to give her a baby. I would never finish anywhere but inside her, and she almost always wanted me hitting it from the back. Sometimes she’d ask me not to thrust at all and would just back onto me and fuck herself on my dick, saying more about how she was going to make me give her my cum. I remember at one point I told her how good her child-bearing hips felt and she immediately started playing with herself and asked me to repeat it often afterwards. She was so into the dirty talk that I spent a couple weeks worried she was just going to come off the birth control one day without telling me—but she never did, which is lucky given how often we put her body through its paces. We were always careful but she was fixated on the fantasy of being held down and filled up, and I was more than fucking willing to help with that. I enjoyed cumming inside her and couldn’t get enough of it—I had those long thrusting climaxes where you can just feel yourself completely unwind as your legs and hips work themselves into a stupor.

Karina remained an enigma in other ways, too; she had very regimented ideas about sex which were totally new to me. Once when I was over at her place, she said she didn’t want to fuck because she was on her period, but the same night she had absolutely no problem letting work her clit with my tongue until she came on my face. If anything she wanted me to use my tongue more when she was on her period, which I was unused to but enjoyed. She wasn’t into blowjobs but gave incredible handjobs—god her hands felt good. I have such a keen memory of her one morning, nestled into my side in her bed with her hip thrown across me. She was in these silk pajamas and I could feel her nipples against me through the fabric as she pumped my dick. I remember telling her I was getting close and she just smiled and said “That’s the point” and grinned at me as I started cumming all over us.

Naturally when she graduated from uni her life changed; when she told me she’d found a job back in her home country, we saw each other a LOT for those remaining few weeks. She was openly disinterested in something long-distance and I had my tourists to get back to, but we definitely made the most of our time together. The experience opened me up to some new things and I still swoon over hair like hers. I’d fuck her brains out again if given the chance, but just like when she moved back home, I’d feel ever so slightly uncertain about my future until at least four or five weeks afterward.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ph8wqw/the_rich_girl_who_liked_being_bred_mf