[fM] He put my panties in my mouth

The darkness of the bar was carved out in slashes of neon, scrapes of sodium, mad flares of Curaçao blue. It felt warm there, cosy and safe among the hum of bodies, the smeary blooms of light.

We were on bar stools, he and I. It was a second date. The first had been before the *events* of 2020. A lifetime away. A universe away. A distance spanned by a Scheherazade’s library of longing words and blushingly filthy pictures.

Enough time had passed for me to get over the embarrassment of how needy I had been, how readily I offered him my body. It felt like a dream rather than a memory before, that last cold February night, back then with the cocktails in my veins as I looked over my shoulder and asked him to take me from behind. He had, oh fuck he had. He came quickly but whispered filth into my ear until he was hard again and then…and then a blur of begging, of mewling, of hot bodies, of his thick cock inside me. I burned for it, for him, to forget this shitty crumbling world and to turn to ash in the stellar blaze of lust.

‘Huh?’ I realised he was talking to me and I had been somewhere else, drawing spiral glaciers on the condensation on the side of my glass.

He laughed, softly, a single exhalation. ‘I was saying would you like another drink?’ His smile was slow and subtle. His glance lingered on me. It made me shrink back a little, not in fear or shame but in heart racing anticipation. Yes, it is going to happen.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Sure, I’ll have the same.’

He nodded. There was something so sexy about that, the way he took control, the way he spoke. So confident and clear. He ordered and I saw the barman look at me and then at him and I blushed again. It was territorial, animalistic, and I liked it.

He leaned over to me while the drinks were being made.

‘Take your panties off,’ he said quietly.

I felt dizzy. It was a bodily shock, those words, lost immediately in the music and noise around us. He had said them though, and I had heard. He looked ahead and said nothing, smiled and took our drinks.

I straightened in my seat, my body taking action of its own accord. My mind was blank, focused only on obeying. I lifted my skirt a little, reached up and found the sides of the band of the white lacey thong I had on. I had put it on because I wanted him to see it. See it on me, to take them off, to peel them off, to tease me. But all that was gone. With a wiggle of my hips they were down to my thighs, my knees and over my heels. I lifted them, half unsure of what to do next. He had the answer.

His hand was over mine, closing over my fingers, over my underwear. He looked into my eyes and took them from me slowly and put them in his pocket. He leaned in and I rose to met him but instead of a kiss he reached for my drink, pushed it to me, raised his own.

‘Cheers,’ he said.

I gasped quietly, the sound swallowed by the chink of our glasses, my chest shuddering. I could feel the leather of the stool against the tops of my thighs from where my dress was still high. I was wet, I knew it, wetter than I had ever felt in public before. It was sweet agony. I wanted to touch myself. I wanted his touch and here he was, smiling over the cut glass tumbler, the ice in his whiskey clinking, that wicked smile, that smile that knew what he could do to me, what control he had. I closed my eyes and breathed deep again. I was overwhelmed, dizzy. All I could think of was us, as if from outside my own body, arched back, spread thighs, the world boiled down to our pleasure.

We left, soon, and he took my hand and I followed him to his place, trotting to keep up with his stride. It was still cold and the little dress didn’t do much to keep me warm and he pulled me up against him, took of his suit jacket to sling over my narrow shoulders. Ungh. I’m sorry to be illiterate but when he did that, my god. He could have done whatever he wanted to me right there in the street. We didn’t talk much. We were so intent on getting there.

The door closed with a click.

He held me against the wall and kissed me and lifted my skirt and sunk a finger into my soaked pussy. I moaned into his mouth and my hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He moved away a little and fingered me more as he felt for something in his pocket. My expression must have been a scene, red lips parted, eyes open in the terror of want, hands flat against the wall. My panties; he found them. He slipped the shoulder straps off my dress and pulled it down. I hadn’t worn a bra and the dress bunched around my waist. I was breathing so hard. I was so turned on.

‘Open,’ he said, kissing my lip. I opened my mouth and he slowly folded the panties in. I could smell myself, taste myself. It was so dirty, so hot. I moaned a muffled cry, muted, soft, literally restrained. The rasp of the material caught the inside of my cheeks but I didn’t object, only tried to keep them there because I was determined to be good for him.

He knelt, his fingers trailing over my nipple on the voyage down, and kissed my mound. He went lower and his tongue sunk into my pussy. My knees did a thing, buckled a little, straightened up. Then he moved up to my clit as he began to finger me again. It was slow, strong, deliberate. He put a second finger in me. I cried out the again. The underwear muted me, made me sound as if I was far away. I was pinned to the wall. My hands went to his hair, encouraging him. He needed no encouragement. I lifted my hips and brought my pussy to his mouth and he pushed back, not hiding his own desire.

I moaned silently. I felt it course through me, a cry to nowhere. I never knew I could do that. I leaned my head back, my eyes half closed, my mouth open but no sound escaping. My breath caught damply on my underwear. I felt a curious edge of panic, like using a snorkel for the first time. I breathed through my nose and as I did he fingered me deeper. I moaned then, a deep alto gasp of delight as I shuddered on him, as I felt myself get even wetter. He fingered me faster, rougher. I liked it but it felt wild, out of control. My wetness was embarrassing me, and yet all I wanted to do was spread my legs and let him see my pussy. I knew that was bad. They always told me to keep my legs closed, wear long skirts, be decent. But right now, fuck. I wanted to show him so bad. Show him it all.

He paused to pull my dress down over my hips, leaving me naked, apart from the white lace that trailed from my lips, and him almost fully clothed. He grabbed my hand and led me into his bedroom. The side lights were on low and he threw me onto the cool duvet, rolling me onto my back and spreading my legs. He began to eat me again, fingering me, making me whimper as I lifted my hips again and he reached up and held my breasts and his tongue pressed on my clit. He wasn’t gentle with my tits. I didn’t want him to be. He squeezed them hard, flesh between his fingers, nipples clamped between knuckles, pressed, twisted a little.

I heard his belt unbuckle and the hush of his jeans falling away. He crawled up and kissed my forehead, my neck, leaving me gagged. I rolled my hips back and felt the tip of his cock slick with pre cum slide over my thigh. He moaned now, a gasp of need. His cock found my soaked slit and it ran up over it.

‘I want your pussy so badly…’ I just cried quietly in response. Thrashed against the sheet. He held is cock in his hand. He pressed it against me, the soft head sliding over me, up to my clit and my hood. He reached up and pressed my hands together above my head with one hand, pinning me like a butterfly. I fluttered under him as he teased my hole, spread me open with the tip of his shaft once, twice. I felt myself sweating, my skin pricking. He pulled away. I panicked. No, he can’t stop; I’ll have a fit; I’ll die.

He took me like that, sliding deep into my ready wetness as I opened my legs and wrapped them around him, pulling him into me, deeper deeper as he thrust and moved. It had been a while but I didn’t care. I rolled my hips back more and he put it further in. I felt the delicious stretch of this thick cock, the heat of his body, his kisses on my neck. I felt him open my pussy. God he felt so fucking big and I would have told him too if I could have. I wanted to let him hear me worship him, tell him I was his.

He lifted himself a little, lost his shirt. My hands pushed the arms of his tee up. I felt the delicious firmness of his toned triceps, I felt the intense size of his cock. He likes it when I squeezed his arm and he tensed it; all those curls had been worth it for this moment. He pushed my knees together, pushed them to my chest and took me so deeply. So fucking deeply. He smiled and took his time. Then he sped up. I wanted to say something, wanted to thank him, wanted to praise him, but the panties were there, always there.

He moved back a little, onto his knees, and pointed my legs straight up. Then he reached over and took my thong out of my mouth. It trailed spit across my cheek, my hair. He pushed himself deep into me and held it there.

‘I want you to cum in my pussy…’ it was the first thing I’d said for 40 minutes. ‘I want you to fucking put it in me.’ I felt him get harder. His hips moved, the curve of his cock inside me, rubbing, making me glow with pleasure. I didn’t want the moment to stop – and yet I wanted him to mark me, to claim me again.

‘Is that what you’ve been thinking about?’ He took me in a controlled way, steady, fast enough to build me up, slow enough to stop himself. He reached out and stroked my chest gently, tenderly, his fingers moving from my throat over my clavicle and my breasts to my abdomen. I shuddered. Oh god. My back arched a little, tensed. I moaned out loud, our eyes meeting. ‘You’ve been thinking about my big cock filling you with cum?’

I nodded and moaned again. His fingers continued their slow rake of my body. I felt as though I was being surveyed, mapped, scanned. And I knew I was going to cum if he carried on. My moans became steadier, deeper. He let go of my hands and I grabbed fistfuls of sheets. He held my breast, my waist. And he fucked me. His hips pressed against the backs of my raised thighs, his shaved cock took me again and again. I lost myself in the sensation, in the heat that flowed through my body.

The orgasm came suddenly, an electric judder, overwhelming, revelatory. I saw lights, stars, felt his hands on me, his cock in me; was reduced to points of sensation. I was no-one for a moment, all past and future gone, obliterated and replaced by a brilliant nothing. And as it passed I was still there, he was still there, his cock deep inside me. He was on top of me, between my legs, we were kissing with open mouths.

He pulled my hips to the edge of the bed. He stood and took me like that. He could have had me any way he liked but he wanted to watch me. That was clear enough. His green eyes met mine, and strayed to my lithe arms, my small breasts, the curve of my belly, the nip of my waist.

He moaned. It was his turn. I nodded, speech still absent. His hands held my hips, pulling me onto him. I felt used, deliciously, a toy for his cock. I played with my tits. He smiled at that, my small hands with the silver ring on the right thumb and the belt of Orion tattooed inside my left wrist. He sped up, not trying to control himself any more.

I didn’t think I could cum again but I surfed the wave, his moans making me cry out.

‘Fuck…’ he swore. I knew he was close. I opened my legs wider. My eyes and the way I bit my lip did the dirty talk. Please use me like a good girl, it’s so naughty, please do what you want to me. I saw a flush cover his neck. He went faster. I shuddered again, knowing what was coming.

He kept fucking me as he came. His thick cock throbbed inside. I felt his heat, his wetness. I raised my hips and could see how sensitive he was but he never pulled back. He slowed and didn’t seem to soften. He fucked me slowly as he kept coming. He reached over and picked up my panties. He kissed me once more and then folded them back into my mouth. I felt his cum in me, on me.

He breathed deep. A sigh of complete satisfaction.

‘I hope you’re not tired.’ That grin again. I shook my head. The smile that could get me to do anything was back. ‘Because the night’s just started.’

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ss5deb/fm_he_put_my_panties_in_my_mouth