She was on the attack at the party [MF]

For years the apartment building had been marked for demolition but the owners had somehow found ways to delay the inevitable while renting the apartments to poor art students. The group living there developed a kind of coop-style living, sharing everything while knowing they could all be kicked out at any moment. Their parties were wild affairs—since each one could be the last.

When I went to these parties I liked the roof the best. It was only a three-story building, so the roof was mostly level with the tops of the trees, giving it this secluded forest-like feel, especially at night. There was a single floodlight hung up somewhere making everything shadows and half-faces, but somehow still bathed in a warm orange glow. And when you’re drunk, everything is shadows and half-faces and warm anyway, That night I arrived at the party already buzzed, so I didn’t even bother with whatever was going on inside. I went straight for that roof.

Once there I was talking with some friends, nestled into that youthful, invincible feeling, when you know you’re having a good time, and when you feel like you just have to reach out and seize all the pleasure in the world. Or at least you hope so. It’s almost as if you have it coming to you.She must have had as much to drink as I had but she walked straight toward me without a hitch or a stumble. She wore a loose tank top that framed her strong shoulders; what was once a pixie cut of her dark hair now tickled her neck and collarbone. Her face was something of a blur in the half-dark, as if hard and soft at the same time. Her flowing pants traced an hourglass figure as she flitted between being silhouette and a living and breathing thing.

All this should have given her some grace, which it did, but there was also something almost raw and solid about her. This had nothing to do with her weight or her shape, but about her steady determination as she approached me, entered into my shadow, leaned in close enough that I could smell the wine on her breath and said: “Hey, I’m on the attack. And I’m here for you.”It took me a few moments to process what she was saying. My friends must have understood immediately as they seemed to slip and fade away behind me. “You’re going to have to say that again,” I stammered, instinctually leaning in closer and even putting my hand on her arm. “I know this may seem strange, but fuck it: I want you.”

I pulled my head back slowly, letting the shock of it sink in but also letting the warmth of the dim light weigh heavy on my limbs. “Oh, ok.” I realized my hand was still on her arm and I made as if to pull it back but then held it there for a moment longer before sliding my fingers up over the crux of her elbow, to the outside of her bicep, and then to her shoulder. Her body hummed with heat. She exhaled, more heavily than I think she meant to—I could feel her breath on my neck.

And then her hand was on my other arm, as if mirroring my movements. I turned my head to watch her touch me, noticing the way her body strained to keep back her desire. I couldn’t help but let my hand drop to the back of her shoulder, down the curve of her to her lower back, a gesture which, as if by itself, pulled us closer to each other. There it was: the sudden intimacy of being able to smell her sweat, and the new familiarity of our bodies hinging into place. As I turned toward her she sprang at me, as if she couldn’t hold the tension anymore, pressing her lips against mine and sticking her tongue down my throat. Yes, it was red wine, I could taste it now.

I pressed back hard, our tongues wrestling and our hands folding and searching. I gently bit her lower lip as she grabbed my hair. I grabbed onto a hip, a love handle, anything, as the animal in each of us began to mount. “Fuck, let’s get out of here,” she managed, the “fuck” merging with a kind of growl. She led me by the hand down the stairs—some part of me wanted to stay up in that forest-roof, but neither of us were ready to give that kind of show.

As we went into her apartment and then into her room she shed her clothes with a certain ferocity. It was hard to take my own clothes off, as I couldn’t keep my eyes off her: the openness of her desire, the way her body was suddenly and so magnificently on display for me. Her breasts were full with wide brown erect nipples; they hovered over the round softness of her belly, the dark thicket of her pubic hair. She somehow had become more calm them me. She laughed at me as I struggled with my shoes and pants. “Oh c’mon now. I’m waiting for you.” Now that we were alone I could hear the gravel in her voice, that hint of something smoky, the best kind of dirty.

I was naked now too—my erection seemed to be this rude asymmetry between us; I didn’t know where to put myself, this throbbing appendage was in the way somehow. As if sensing my discomfort, she hissed: “You have a fucking beautiful cock,” and again she sprang, almost tiger-like, pushing me onto the bed and taking me into her mouth. She teased the tip but also took me all the way into her mouth and I let out a gasp.

She had landed on one of my legs, so I could feel her pussy pressed up against my shin and thigh. Fuck, the warmth of her. And she started to grind into my leg as she went at me, and I could feel her juices dripping onto me. “Oh fuck,” I let out. And she must have thought I was about to cum because she pulled me out of her mouth and slowed down her stroking. “Turn around,” I said. The animal in me was taking over. I needed her to be on all fours. “I’ll get a condom,” I said, proud of my unexpectedly sober thought. “No,” she said, firmly, already on the bed and swaying her ass in my direction. I probably should have insisted, but, again, this night had long turned feral.

I stepped slowly back to her, grazing her ass cheeks with my cock. “Give it me. Give it to me now,” she moaned. I slid my cock against her lips, lathering myself in her juices before slowly pushing myself into her. I could feel her arching her back into me, pulling me deep inside her. I grabbed her hips and breathed before pulling back for a moment. And then, some force, as if outside of my body, slammed me deep inside of her. She groaned a guttural, “yes, yes yes.” And again I slammed into her, only this time she slammed back into me, and I felt her tighten around me. I seized her hips and starting pumping in and out of her.

She put her face into a pillow and started going at her clit as I pounded her. She started making this low moaning sound, its rhythm matching my thrusts at first, and then gradually losing any coherence. “Ah, I’m gonna, uh, ah, uh, I’m gonna, uh….” Her body began shaking as she gulped for air, and then suddenly she tensed everything and held her breath. I slowed my thrusts, almost to a stop when finally, she let out a loud, ecstatic moan and went almost limp on the bed. Seeing her pleasure like that, the fullness of it—my knees became weak. I gave two more half thrusts and then, unable to keep it back any longer, pulled out and covered her ass and back with ropes and ropes of my cum.

I fell to her side. I found some tissues somewhere and began wiping her down as she caught her breath. I tossed the tissues and continued caressing her back, which seemed to glow in the low light of the room. I turned off the lamp to leave us in moonlight. It wasn’t long before I collapsed beside her as well. Two tired animals, full on their pleasure, for now.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/u1u5l5/she_was_on_the_attack_at_the_party_mf

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