A wave of shame suddenly washes over me. No. Shame is too judgmental, too soaked in sin.
Embarrassment? We are past that, surely.
No. Something specific, new. I feel *lewd*.
Partly responsible is this twilight alley, the waft of the restaurant’s bins, the indents of the brick still visible on the back of my arms, my ass. The way the crisp night air crackles against my exposed, sopping slit as I assume the most undignified of positions. Squatting in 5-inch heels is not easy. Fortunately they are clunky, platform-style ones or I would have no chance of maintaining this at all. My default position for so long has been to kneel, a default I hope has considerable mileage yet. But this reminds me of the need to train, reinstate my ‘corrupt fitness goals’ regime.
Calves burning, my gaze returns to you as your fingers grip my hair, twisting slightly. Your eyes seem to penetrate me, even in this dim light they seem to shine. *Taste yourself,* you grin, enjoying the chance to issue the order, however redundant. You know I will suck your gleaming cock, coated in my juices. The only question is whether you order or I beg.
I don’t maintain eye contact because I want to tease you or because I want to see your reaction. I simply can’t look away.
Hypnotised. I clean in long slow licks, base to tip. Your girth means this takes seven licks. Everything is still. A chance for us both to breathe. Your eyes change from dispassionate observer to greedy boy as I dribble a long stream of spit. Rub it all over with fluttery kisses, flicks of the tongue, soft lips. Then close my mouth around your tip, far too gently for your liking.
Even though my legs are trembling, I take my left hand that I had briefly been using to balance. Place both hands on the base of your granite cock. Firmly stroking your tender skin, exposing you completely in my mouth. Wet, needy tongue exploring your head. I have never asked whether you care, but for me both hands plus mouth feels like the only proper way to worship you. To *thank* you.
Your eyes close just for a moment as you purr. Rubbing your shaft, hard, over and over, as I take you deeper and deeper in my throat. Sucking needily, to emphasise the vacuum that you need to fill.
My make-up is already ruined even before what comes next.
It was perfect a couple of hours ago. Not often we go out just the two of us and you do so like me to look appealing. You love to flirt and be adored. Golden. So what could be more natural than wanting the same for me? So easy to be caught in your positivity. Enough to make me put on proper multi-layered lipstick and everything.
The lipstick was the first to go. Creamy cocktails with miniature straws should go on a list of things not to indulge in when we are so fucking horny. Too tempting to tease you. No-one could resist making you hard and making you laugh at the same time. Your beautiful, booming, enveloping laugh. The laugh that always makes me glow with pride and blush with pleasure just to be at your table.
But rolling the tiny straw on my succulent lips, blowing little bubbles, taking an exaggeratedly coy sip head down, doelike mascaraed eyes glancing coquettishly up at you… That was bound to provoke a reaction.
Not a kiss. Not in public. A finger. Replacing the straw with part of you. I was in automatic teasing mode so of course I closed my lips tight as can be. And of course your strong finger breached my defences. Cause and effect – inevitable.
Was it also inevitable that I sucked your finger hard and fast and deep? Or that you added a second and a third to try and make me gag, show me where these games always end? Thank fuck for the return of the waitress or that would have been the end of the eyeliner as well as the lipstick.
We managed to behave after that right until the end of the meal. Paid the bill and everything. I was on a high, talking too much, too quickly. We should do this more often. Look how much we have to say to each other when there are no distractions. I love the speed of your thoughts, the breadth of your trivia, your decency, wholesomeness, brilliance. Better than sex…
That’s when I felt the hard brick against my back as you skilfully managed to lift, twirl and kiss me all at the same time. I hate you. You are too good at this. That kiss changed me. From a relatively smart, articulate, composed human being into a zombie, a bimbo, a slut. Your slut.
I kiss you back. Hard. Embracing, pushing, hugging, stroking, pressing. You lick my neck and I gasp, bite just below my ear and I moan. Except you knew I would and so your hand is already tight over my mouth. *Ssshhh*.
I want to touch your cock, release it, taste it, but you keep me standing. Lift my flimsy dress and push two fingers straight past my thong and deep inside. Your thumb on my perfectly smooth cunt. I feel like a puppet absolutely under your control. Held. Captured. Owned.
A car goes past, out of eyeshot, as you quickly undo your belt and unbutton your jeans. Later I will smile and think about how dexterous you are, one huge hand owning me, the other expertly releasing yourself. But right now my brain is mush.
These heels make me the perfect height for this, it would be impossible otherwise with your towering frame. You lift my right leg, pushing me harder back against the wall as your astoundingly stiff, gasp-inducingly thick, lovely cock finds its spot instantly. No preliminaries. I am so tight, clenching with desire, but so gushingly wet that it is a natural fit.
*Fuck*. You withdraw. Do you want to tease me? Or demonstrate your prowess, show me it’s no fluke and you can fill me any time, first thrust, an expert marksman? You enter me again. Slower this time and impossibly deep.
It must be an illusion but I feel like your veins are tracing a path along the most secret parts of me. I feel absolutely breached, filled, captive. The most wonderful sensation. My kiss tells you that. Thirsty, adoring, grateful.
Your sturdy, huge hands now holding my ass, legs tightly wrapped around you, arms clinging, you thrust into me. The wall almost a participant, helping to hold me up, keep me safe. But colluding with you to penetrate me to my very core. *Fuck*. Pounding. *Please*. Primal. *No*. Mind-clearing. *Fuck*. All-consuming. *I can’t.* Brutal. *Yesss.* Loving. *Fuckkkk*.
I cum suddenly and violently. Bucking and clenching and squeezing you in a way you have never experienced before. So unbelievably fucking tight, but somehow drawing you in, ever deeper, rather than trying to expel you. I sob uncontrollably. Always happens with these rare no-clit orgasms. The release, the surrender, the capitulation. You hold me, so so tight. I have never felt more broken. Never felt more whole. I blub in your arms, I am safe.
As my sniffles subside, tears drying on my wet cheeks, we have the loveliest kiss, eyes open. Your smile is a precise reflection of my own. I want to drop to my knees and give you a taste of the pleasure you have given me, help you get lost. But the ground is hard and dirty, which takes us back to the squatting position that started this story.
My dripping, bruised pussy feels so exposed to the night, to the ground. Lewd. But I am breathless at how grateful I am, how smitten, how much I want to adore you, praise you, love you.
Your eyes close just for a moment as you purr. Rubbing your shaft, hard, over and over, as I take you deeper and deeper in my throat. Sucking needily, to emphasise the vacuum that you need to fill.
When you open them again you see mine, wide and wet and pleading. Bare-faced, lips around your cock and yet somehow a picture of innocence. I take more and more of you, eyes locked, tears just threatening to spill again. But the last inch or two is insurmountable alone. You know the look in my eyes that says *help me*.
The next high of the rollercoaster comes as you hold my head in both hands and thrust as deep as can be. Once, again, three, four, blood rushing in my ears, eyes watering, *hold*. One hand under my chin, one on the back of my head, absolutely pressed, balls against my lower lip. Time stops. You pull out and the pain in my calves suddenly rushes back as you lust at the thick streams of saliva keeping your cock and my lips connected.
A handful of teenagers pass by, laughing excitedly, just a few metres away. I am sure they haven’t seen us, but it snaps me back into reality. I have just started to whisper, *we should go*, when you capture my attention again. Refocus.
You tell me to touch myself while you cum. Slightly less frenzied, no less deep, we move perfectly together. My fingers pass over my drenched clit every time your perfect cock hits the back of my throat. My legs shake as I start to cum, a completely different sensation this time, as you groan and grab your cock, directing precious globules on my cheeks, eyebrows, nose. I envelop you once more to suck the last drops, tongue probing your hole to make sure nothing is missed.
It might be a porn cliché, but we love it. You help me up and I stand before you, face coated with your cum and absolutely beaming. You use your fingers and tongue to help clean me up. We kiss lots.
We decide to walk for a bit before calling a taxi. Hand in hand, there is no rush to get home.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qs42i5/lewd_mf_alley