If you haven’t seen my posts in the past, I’m working through a series detailing some of the experiences that shaped who I am and how I grew to be the person I am, all of which are suitably dirty. If you’d like to catch up on where we are, feel free to read the back issues of this series in the pinned post in my profile!
Everyone in the account below was 18+ at the time.
************************************************
We broke up.
I won’t beat around the bush or act like there was a whole lot to it. I came home one day, she sat me down, and I watched her lips move and vaguely registered the words they made. Something about a grad school out west, the relationship was too new to justify asking me to wait for her, it’s something she was committed to. We broke up.
The first term of my third year at that school kicked off a few weeks later. I had rented a bedroom in a house with some friends I’d made that year and, being a generally wholesome group of dudes, they committed themselves to dragging me out to a party the weekend before classes resumed to help get her off my mind. Someone’s girlfriend’s best friend’s parents were out of town and it was someone else’s birthday. I don’t know. I was entirely too dejected to do much other than let myself be nudged along.
Which is how I found myself leaned against the fridge in the entirely too-large kitchen of a house that was entirely too nice to be post breakup drunk in. In the usual manner of things, everyone with a girlfriend milled about in the kitchen and living room, while the girls squeezed in and out of bathrooms to do hair and makeup, or take turns in front of mirrors to make sure their dresses looked good before we would all shuffle off to a club later. It was always done this way, exactly, week after week.
I was bored. I was sad. I was in no mood to watch 20 copy + pasted versions of the same frat bro play flip cup for 3 hours. I decided to step outside for a while, taking my bottle and dark cloud of misery with me. A girl wearing a cheap tiara and cocktail dress held the hair of another while she redistributed her lunch into the flower bed along the driveway. The hair holder, presumably the birthday girl, cried pitifully about her day being ruined. It was a little sad.
A third woman, a tall Indian girl with a pink dress and some dazzling heels on, stood nearby looking on in amusement. She spotted me standing there, looking for all the world like a first rate dumbass, loosely holding a bottle of cheap vodka by my side, underdressed, and peering on like I was watching a sideshow act. Abandoning the scene, she came to stand next to me on the porch.
It was a little funny, I had to admit, she said. I rebuked her in mock solemnity; a birthday was being ruined right before us, did she have no shame? The ruination of the birthday was nothing compared to the abuse that the rose bush was undergoing, she quipped. I did laugh a little. She told me her name, and I told her mine. She knew who I was – it was a small campus, and my efforts to make the best of my education meant that I spoke up more often in class back then. It had been paying off; I was there on a near full scholarship that year thanks to the efforts of the previous terms. She told me we had been in a classes together, and that I sounded smart. I thanked her for that, as another round of retching overlaid itself over the wails of the birthday girl. I took a swig from my bottle and offered it to my companion, who shrugged and took it from me. We stood in silence a minute more.
Did I want to fuck?
I turned to look, shocked at the matter of fact bluntness of the question. I hadn’t planned to come here looking for that, but had nothing keeping me from it at home anymore.
We slipped past the crowd inside, many of whom were growing agitated by the situation unfolding and unloading in the driveway, and she led me by the hand upstairs, pulling me into a bedroom, and locking the door behind me. It was dark, but the bed was too large to be a guest room. I turned to protest the indecency of using the host’s parents’ bed for this, but her tongue was entirely too far into my mouth for that before I could speak and her hands were furiously undoing the buttons of my shirt. I cupped her face in my hands while she shakily kicked off her heels, imploring me to unzip her fucking dress already.
She turned and drew her long black hair over her shoulder so that I could unzip her. A little tattooed sun smiled at me from her right shoulder blade. I was drunk, so I winked at him while I fumbled the zipper down the the small of her back. She was slim, and the lack of an apparent need for a bra meant that the dark skin of her back seemed to go on endlessly. I’m really quite tall, but she was only a few inches shorter than I. Still turned, she shrugged her shoulders out of the dress, and tugged it down over her hips, wiggling her little bum at me playfully. It was overly cute, I had to admit. The dress had been a tight one, so she had a plain black, seamless thong underneath. I told her how good she looked as she pivoted back to face and kiss me again. She thanked me in an all too sultry tone, undoing my belt while she did so. She bit her tongue, smiling somehow at the same time.
She sank, unprompted, to her knees, tugging my briefs and trousers down to my ankles as she did so, inviting me to pick my feet up so she could get them all the way off. She tossed them aside. I was relatively hard, having genuinely enjoyed the soft feel of her face in my hands, the taste of her lips, and the sight of her long, lithe body emerging from the dress. She took my cock into her hands and spit abruptly all over it. God, she told me, it was huge. I told her to give it a kiss. She stroked her saliva up and down before somewhat optimistically trying to swallow it in one go. It was never going to happen, and she hacked a rough gag, bodily convulsing for the effort. She apologized, entirely needlessly, but refused to give up when I asked if she was okay.
She pushed me, bare assed, backward onto the bed, and put her hair up in a ponytail. I recall being acutely away of how rude it was to have my ass on these nice peoples’ sheets, how cute her dark little nipples were, and how impressed I was that she wanted another go at swallowing me. She scooted up on her knees, looked up at me, cleared her throat, and told me she wasn’t a quitter. She started in slowly, tenderly using her pillowy lips to kiss my head with her hands on my knees. She told me again that I was so big, popping the flared head into her mouth and treating it to a soft massage with her tongue. She was incredibly good at this. She bobbed, slowly, up and down for a few minutes, working down further in minute increments each time.
Her big dark eyes looked up at me as she drew back for a breath and I brushed some hair out of her face; I told her that she was so good at this, and she thanked me sweetly. I asked if I could have her now, but she told me she wasn’t done yet, despite my protests that I couldn’t hold on forever. She laughed and told me I’d have to learn some self control, took a deep breath, and rammed her head down onto me, finally fulfilling her personal oath to succeed in pressing her nose firmly into my pelvis, holding herself there for an impressive 7 or 8 seconds until tears started to well into her eyes. She flew backward almost as explosively with a guttural FUCK, followed by a fit of laughter. She shook her head while stroking me in a two handed grip, proclaiming her disbelief at how far down her throat I had just been. I couldn’t believe she’d managed it either, trying desperately not to think about my ex’s similarly talented mouth while this absolute angel happily chatted on while recovering her breath, wiping a healthy measure of her own spit from her chin. I pushed everything else from my head and returned to the moment.
I asked again if I could have her now, to which she replied “oh yes please”. She stood, turning away to peel her thong off, again proffering her pert little ass in front of me with a deft little wiggle of her hips. She looked back and asked if this would be okay, intending to stand and ride me while I sat there on the edge of the bed. Yes, I said, she looked amazing from back here. Mr. Sun tattoo grinned on mischievously while she reached back to guide my slick cock up to her pussy. She was wet and eager, sliding me past her lips and letting go to brace her hands on my widespread thighs to either side. She lowered down slowly, stretching herself to her apparent limit, unable to settle down on my full length. That was it, I told her, that was so good.
She whimpered that it was all she could take, and I reassured her that she was doing so well. She evidently enjoyed the praise, and wiggled side to side a little. A man could get used to this. I put my hands around her waist and just let them rest there, not wanting to give the impression that I was going to do more than hold her steady so that she could work herself comfortably – she told me they felt nice around her hips while she rode in short, slow strokes. I let her work quietly and contentedly, running my hands up and down her back, across her tummy, down her thighs; I felt anything and everything I could and she bobbed her own slow beat happily on, stiffening occasionally. I asked if she had cum, and if she was happy like this. She confessed that she’d been trying not to. Recognizing my own ignorance, I wondered if some women were one and done in the same way that most men were.
I asked if she needed me to do anything to help her, assuring her that I’d love to make her cum. She continued to ride, saying that it just felt so good like this. I was happy to let her carry on, but needed to humbly admit that I was getting closer by the minute. She asked if that was compliment, to which I responded that it was – she was very wet, rather tight, and had just come very close to sucking the life out of me. She looked back, pouting, and said she was just getting used to fucking me, and it would be a shame to end things already. I’m no hero, dear reader, and man enough to admit that it really had only been a little over 5 minutes that she’d ridden me. I told her I couldn’t help how she made my cock feel, and she conceded that she’d nearly cum twice already.
I asked her not to avoid it next time, and she asked if I really, truly wanted her to cum.
Was I sure? Yes.
Was I really sure? Yes, I was so sure.
I wanted her to cum for me right now? More than anything, I told her, I needed her to.
She bounced now, faster and deeper than she had managed yet, smooth little ass cheeks clapping down onto me rapidly. She told me she was going to give me what I wanted, and oh was she ever going to give me just what I wanted. She was going to, she moaned, cum so hard on my big fucking cock for me. I held her hips hard now, begging her to prove it to me. I told her to be a good girl and cum for me.
So she did. She sat down, hard, and clenched her fists up at her sides while her legs tremored violently in the dark. She punched down on my thighs as she was wracked again and again by the jolts of her orgasm and I begged the father, son, holy ghost, and whatever sun deity I hoped had entombed itself into the ink on her shoulder blade that she would hop off in time for me to avoid flooding her with my cum. Thankfully, she found a moment of focal clarity just in the nick of time, sliding wetly forward just as I began to erupt a hot, sticky load of ropey, streaming cum all over her ass and lower back. I heard happy Mmmmm’s from her as I did so, clenching my teeth hard.
She stood all the way up, giggling as she tried to crane her neck around to examine my handiwork, smearing some of it with her hand across her hip. It was a load that I’m proud to have covered her with to this day. I grabbed some tissues from the master bathroom for her, and we got cleaned up and redressed together. We kissed again, which I hadn’t expected from this encounter, but she’d had fun, and asked if we could do this again sometime. My mood was much improved; I’d had fun too. I had planned to make an Irish goodbye and dodge the club cohort, but asked if I could buy her a drink when we got there. She told me I had to promise to dance with her as we left the room to rejoin the party.
Maybe I’d be alright. Maybe this year wouldn’t be a total wash. Maybe thing’s were looking up for yours truly after all.
*************************************************
Thanks, as ever, for reading, and a very special THANK YOU for the folks who have left such nice comments, DMs, PMs and humble upvotes. Your kinds words really make my day, each and every one.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ypr40f/getting_over_her_tftmm_7_fmhookup
[removed]