[MF] almost a decade later, I still remember the first time I came inside her

Marriage is hard. We both knew that when we spoke our vows. I, certainly, expected to be challenged when I made the solemn promise to devote myself to the one person, forever. And, until the last three or four months, we have made it work exceedingly well. But life moves forward, things get complicated, and sometimes romance ages poorly. We didnt used to be like this, resorting to tired old sexual traditions. The hard part is knowing we have it in us to be wild, but not knowing where it has been hiding.

Its a familiar story. We met in college, we were both in greek life, both a bit promiscuous. But once we found each other, nothing else really mattered. Physically and emotionally, there was nobody else even worth looking at. We had the kind of fast love that sends a tingle to your fingers when you hear the phone buzz in the morning. She liked that my looks and personality were a bit incongruent; 6’3, a body built for work, for athletics. Spanish skin that tans easily in the summertime. A few well-done tattoos adorning my body.

Shit, back then, I had a motorcycle. My dad taught me to ride as a kid, and I absolutely loved it. It used to make me aroused to have her grab my hips tightly as we cruised down the freeway and weaved along the city. She could enjoy my masculine side because my personality didn’t quite add up. I was a gentle giant, she would always say. A smooth talker, someone sensitive. I was, and still am, equally at home talking about football as I am the social dilemmas of modern life.

The sex was constant and intense. It was the kind where you didn’t mind if a lil bead of sweat dropped from her nose into my mouth while she rode me. In fact, it made everything a little sweeter to know I could taste all of her. She would work me hard, covering my cock in the pearly juices that come with passionate, raw *fucking*. Not sex, *fucking*.

I remember the first time she let me cum inside her. We had been together for about six months. Our respective fraternity and sorority had a little date party planned. Essentially, we’d all get absolutely, irresponsibly drunk, show up to the frat house, and a bus would take us to some shitty venue with a DJ and a bar. Once we got on the bus, she couldn’t keep her hands off me and she didn’t care if my brothers and her sisters saw. She grabbed me by the tie and pulled her close. We spent the entire drive kissing and fondling each other under the dim light of the party bus.

I had on slacks, a tight navy gingham dress shirt, a pair of italian loafers from my grandpa, and a knit tie. She wore a a tight black dress that showed the world how fragile she really was.

We found our way to the dance floor. During a slow song, she whispered, “I want you to really fuck me tonight. Use me.” So, after a few more confidence building shots, I met her back on the dance floor, my cock feeling full, but not yet hard. She saw me coming and shot a big smile.

I scooted against her, felt the pressure of her tight, hilariously skinny, butt against my crotch. A small butt, but man she could use it in those days. I’ve always loved her tight little features. I let my hands traverse her body, felt her ribs protruding under her cheap dress, the kind could be ruined without remorse. Damn, she wore it well. It stopped about a quarter of the way from her thigh, just barely hiding the lace panties my fingers had just started exploring.

She gasped when I pressed the fabric against her clit. Her breath warmly blowing against my neck. It was warm against my fingers. I knew the bloodflow was increasing, that she was priming herself for pleasure. Her thighs still dancing to the beat, just beginning to precipitate which allowed my fingers to glide along the inside of her thigh.

Before I could push her panties to the side, she grabbed me by the hand, without a word, and we stormed into the venue’s women’s bathroom. Girls were fixing their hair. Adjusting their outfits. A few were crying. But we paraded into a stall, she yanked up her skirt, pulled those black lace panties to her knees, and bent over. Her eyes told me something had shifted inside her.

“I need your cum inside me, now.” she said. And with that, my body prepared itself. I made sure the stall was locked, unbuttoned my pants, and revealed the rod hiding beneath my boxer briefs. Her eyes widened, her brows raised, and she bit her lip. She looked like a puppy waiting for a treat.

When I pulled down my underwear, my cock bounced up and down. Before I could do anything else, her hands were on it, guiding it expeditiously into its home for the next few minutes, we knew it would be a quickie, but a good one.

The first thing I remember is how easily I slid inside her. Sure, I was as hard as I’d ever been, but I met zero resistance. Her knees slightly bent, panties banded around them, leaning over with both arms pressed against the stall’s back wall. From this view I could see a drop of cream growing on the top of my shaft after the first few forceful thrusts. I love how wet she could get.

The next thing I remember are the voices. Just mixed feminine voices all echoing through the tiled walls and floors of the bathroom. Girls shouting at one another about how lame their dates were. Screaming that they need another drink. A few gave us a clap and a “woo”once my wife moaned a few times. But, despite everyone knowing what was happening, nobody seemed to care. They let us live out the moment that we were desperate to live.

So, I became a bit more confident in the situation. I grabbed her hair, yanked her head back each time my hips moved forward. My balls sent a jolt of pain, or maybe pleasure?, as they slapped against her now soaking clit. With a handful of hair in one hand, I used the other to pull down her dress, revealing how the perfect little handfuls violently bounced as I stuffed her deeper and deeper. Feeling the pleasure building between the both of us.

Now, she was getting loud. And the smacking of flesh and a pathetically subdued whimper were the predominant noises in the bathroom. I heard someone say, “Damn he’s really giving it to her in there,” which made me abandon any sensitivity left inside me. I was all testosterone. I surrendered my brain and allowed by cock to really take the reigns.

I spread her cheeks, revealing her perfect asshole, puckering every now and then with her moans, my cock building up with her cum and our sweat. I unbuttoned my shirt, now all but soaked. I was pumping hard, sweat was streaming down my stomach and dripping from my tightly wound ballsack. I was fucking her harder than normal. And she seemed to be loving it.

I released my grip on her hair, folding her head forward from the relieved pressure. Now, one hand found her clit. I rubbed it as vigorously as I fucked her. I didn’t really care about monitoring pressure. I could tell by the way her knees were buckling that I was doing something right. Her pussy squeezed my cock with each squeal, she was going to cum soon.

“Oh fuck!” were the only two words I could make out before I turned her head to mine and plunged into a deep kiss. Our tongues encircling, teeth sometimes chattering after the force of a hard thrust.

Muffled cries of pleasure vibrated against my lips as I felt ecstasy building at the soft spongy head of my cock. I was going to explode inside her. I didnt care to ask, even though it was the first time we fucked without a condom present. I needed to fill her with cum. I needed her to go back onto the dance floor with me, knowing my cum was dripping out of her, filling her panties, and maybe even dripping down her leg.

When her legs buckled and her pussy gushed and squeezed one last time, I released the last ounce of inhibition I had. I gave her six strong thrusts using the force of my hands to grab her hips firmly, and shove them against me. Her eyes rolled back and her jaw hung as I propelled thick cum as deeply inside her as I could. My cock properly soaked, her pussy properly beaten.

She smiled in her defeat, she’d never really seen that side of me.

We got married at 25 and now, 7 years later, I’m wondering if I’ll ever have sex like that again. We both have grown apart, matured in many ways. And while my love remains, I sometimes miss the way it felt to stop caring and surrender to the passion of the moment.

I’d like to have that again one day.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/triomr/mf_almost_a_decade_later_i_still_remember_the