This is the very delayed second part to my first story about Matt. I don’t think you necessarily need to read the first one to enjoy the second, but this one involves a little bit more emotion because I am incapable of separating emotional intimacy from sexual intimacy. Scroll to ****** for the smut, you fiends.
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By the time I saw Matt again, it had been a little over a week or two. We wanted to see each other sooner, but between work and other various things we just couldn’t make it work. By this point, I was pining for him, and not just for his thick cock that had so thoroughly filled me. Like other authors on here, it’s always been hard for me to not conflate a sexual partner with a companion, ideally on the way to more. The way Matt looked into my eyes while we fucked the first time was the catalyst for me starting to think maybe we could end up caring for one another. After all, we were incredibly sexually compatible, I liked his company and he seemed to like mine, and most of all we were both stuck in suburbia for the near term so… why not?
It was already sometime after 10pm and I had, admittedly, bootycalled him. We hadn’t intended to meet up that night as I had planned to hangout with some friends and others we had graduated high school with. But as my friends started to pair off with guys we knew from once upon a time all I could think of was Matt and how badly I wanted to see him. I had really dressed up that night in case my ex showed up (as he was rumored to), and I was excited that Matt might get to see me like this without the satisfaction of knowing I dressed up like this for him specifically.
I’m tall, around 5’7″, and with very long legs. I’d say I have an athletic build, broad shoulders and toned legs, and more classic, Renaissance-portrait-attractiveness rather than today’s IG-thirst-trap-beauty. My ass is cute, and in the right clothing it’s irresistible, or so I’m told. What I lack in ass I’ve been generously blessed with my breasts. My hair was a short, chestnut, and cut to an edgy bob with a dash of blonde for fun.
That night I was wearing a teeny-tiny black high-waisted bodycon mini skirt (for the fashion illiterate: it was short and skin tight), a black push up bra covered loosely by a black crop top, a jean jacket, and strappy black heels. Black was my vibe at the time. My hair was perfectly tousled, my makeup an edgy cat eye, and I was wearing a dab of my favorite perfume.
I waited for him to pick me up, anxiously tapping my feet against the bar stool and checking Facebook to pass the time. He texted me to tell me he was outside, and the butterflies in my stomach flipped. I hugged the last of my friends goodbye who all tried to surreptitiously get a glimpse of my boy toy, and ran outside to climb into his car before they could somehow get involved.
He kissed me sweetly with a little bit of fire, and bit at my bottom lip after I sat down in the passenger seat next to him. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of his car I realized he was looking me over, extremely smug.
“What?!” I asked in my high-pitched, super girly tone, fishing for compliments because I can be vain and could not help myself.
“You didn’t have to dress up for me, you know I’ll just be taking this all off…” He joked, as he ran his hand up the outside of my thigh and rested briefly at the seam on my hip, picking at the fabric beneath his fingers.
I rolled my eyes at him as the prelude to my response,”Surely, you must know I didn’t dress up for *you*.”
He feigned insult as he pulled out of Park and pushed into Drive, grabbing my hand I had resting on my thigh once we were out of the city. At his tender touch those butterflies did aerial stunts in my gut and it only fed the narrative I was drafting in my head about us making this more than just a fuck buddy fling. Even though it was only the second time we were seeing each other, it was comfortable; even when it was silent, it was companionable. By this point we were past the point of nerves. We had 69’d last time, after all, and it’s kind of hard to be shy around someone after being that intimate with one another. We caught up on things, joked around, and easily filled the time before we pulled into his parents’ now familiar driveway.
Back behind the house, through the basement, and into his bedroom we went, quietly and with just enough haste.
Like last time, Matt had the lava lamp already on so the room wasn’t pitch black and I could see enough to move myself around the room without bumping into the crates of records. I perched myself on the futon while he selected a record to put on. I gave him a once over, taking in his casual outfit: graphic white and black t-shirt, straight jeans, high top sneakers. Ugh, he was so attractive. It confused me that he had no idea, but it had its benefits. In person, he treated me like I was some kind of trophy that he could display in his brain as proof of his attractiveness and sex appeal. It seemed like all our sexual interactions he was taking in fully as if he were trying to commit to memory so he could remember it later. Talk about an ego boost…
*****
I had just bent down to extricate myself from my strappy heels when he came to sit next to me, disrupting my mission by pulling me next to him and then when that wasn’t enough, onto his lap. With my almost bare legs between his, my side pressed up against his chest, he placed one hand over the hem of my skirt riding up my upper thighs and the other tugged at my hair, angling my face towards his. He half whispered, half spoke into my ear, “I don’t think you need to take those shoes off just yet.” I let out a small, unintentional gasp of surprise and he used that opportunity to kiss me. The kiss was soft again at first, but as I caught my bearings and started to trail a fingernail up his jeans I could feel his hunger for me rise to the surface. His breathing got more ragged, his hardness grew beneath me, and as his hands explored my body I found my breathing mimicked his staccato.
I let out a quiet moan into his neck as he found my nipple with his rough fingertips, and he urgently tugged my breast out of both my bra and my shirt so he could suck on it and tease it with his teeth. My back arched reflexively and I gasped again as I threw my head back; I was still mindful that his family was likely upstairs and would be able to hear us if I lost control of my responses the way I was inclined to. I LOVE being vocal during sex, it not only fulfills whatever sexual fantasies fueled by porn that guys tend to have and so they react fervently, but I also like how it sounds myself. Plus, I love providing feedback so that my partners know when they’re on the right track; no one is a mind reader, after all, and I want my partners to know what pleases me so they can do more of it.
Still on his lap but now facing him and with my hands in his quaffed dark hair, he pulled my jacket off and let it fall to the floor. I reciprocated with his t-shirt, and we carried on this way until I was just wearing my black lace thong and my heels, and he was entirely nude. His body was was just as I remembered; broad shouldered, farmer’s tan, dark tufts of hair growing across the landscape of his torso and around his erection. He was about average length but girthy in a way that made me exceptionally horny. The last time we had fucked I had felt like I hadn’t really known what it was like to be filled until that very moment he entered me.
By this point, we were making out standing up, his boner pressed against my pelvis and one hand on my left ass cheek, the other gruffly intertwined in my hair. He rasped into my ear that he was going to fuck me from behind, and then spun me around to face the futon. It wasn’t hard for me to reach for the back of the futon and bend over with my butt in the air, legs straight and extended with the heels I still had on. Matt groaned at the sight and his hands dug into my hips while his cock brushed up against my thong with a lustful intensity that made my body clench with anticipation. He took his time running his rough hands along my body, giving me goosebumps and making me shiver.
Matt moved my soaking thong to the side and pushed a finger inside of me. One suddenly became two and I gasped at the surprise addition. I arched my back reflexively in response and I could sense his satisfaction at how easily they slid inside me because of how wet I was. After a few thrusts he told me to stay right where I was as he pulled out, and I whimpered again at the sudden emptiness. It wasn’t long before I felt his hands back at my hips, his hard cock concealed in a condom and pressed hard at my entrance. He sloooooowly pushed himself inside of me and groaned again, this time at how tight I was, and I was whimpering with the pleasure of having him filling me up once again, slowly stretching me over his dick. When he was fully inside me I cried out once. He liked that response and eventually built up a rhythm, his balls slapping against my clit and hands grasping onto my hips, my ass, my thighs.
The pose wasn’t sustainable, so he moved me to kneel on the futon while he kneeled behind me, my back still facing him. My face pressed into the seat of the futon as he thrust into me over and over. It took all my self control to not be screaming with delight, the feeling was SO good. Instead, I settled on moaning each time he was fully inside me. I was reaching back with my hand to alternate playing with his balls and rubbing my own clit. He reached forward with one hand to pull my hair, the other firmly gripped my hip holding me in place. I could feel Matt starting to quicken, and I ratcheted up the sounds, keeping them quiet but increasingly more desperate in tone. My fingers encircled my clit and all it took to send me over the edge was the growl he let out as he was about to explode. We both came: him twitching inside of me while he exhaled sharply and let out low groans, my body tightening around him while I whimpered high pitched and breathy expletives. Still inside me, he collapsed onto my back, our sweat commingling. We slumped onto the futon flushed, panting, hearts racing.
When he pulled out of me, we both gasped at the movement. He tied off the condom and threw it into the trash before joining me back on the futon to spoon me, one of his hands over my chest and cupping my breast. We were both still panting, our hearts racing and our bodies chilled by the moist glisten left on our skin. Remembering how reactive I was last time, he grazed a finger over my chest, up my neck, and over my nipples — I wriggled under his touch, gasping and mewling at the intense sensation of it all. He laughed in a “gotcha” kind of way, and as retaliation I slowly circled my hips, rubbing my butt against his still mostly hard cock. He moaned quietly and I returned the laugh.
—–
Although it was late, the night was still young and we knew we wanted to do more, but we both realized after he heard my stomach rumble that I was super hungry. I hadn’t really had much to eat while out with my friends. He offered that we could go get a grilled cheese from the local diner. Intrigued by the offer, I took him up on it.
Although his texting personality was a bit distant, in person he always seemed super interested in me — not only sexually, but also as a person. Over grilled cheese, french fries, and pickles I learned a lot about his life and he about mine. Our knees touched under the table and he’d occasionally reach down to draw circles on mine. It was once again a comfortable feeling as we had plenty to say, and when we didn’t the silence wasn’t awkward. We were in a well-lit public establishment which was a very different vibe than the dark dingy bar we met at, and Matt seemed really pleased to have me there with him.
As I came to discover he was a much more complex person than I had given him credit for, I also started to realize I might be developing a crush on him… and I knew for sure this was bad news for me. Everything from here on out I knew I was going to just lead to me getting hurt, but being a closeted romantic made me keep going anyway. I’ve never regretted the experience, but I knew from the moment I met him I’d be in trouble. He unfortunately but predictably proved me right.
The last part of this I’ll write in a part 3, eventually…
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/vugl6n/the_thickest_dick_thats_ever_fucked_me_pt_2_fm