This is very long and has a lot of build up! Hopefully you will still appreciate the story. This happened a very long time ago – I’m in my mid 20s now. But this was the most influential time in my life, and the craziest. If you know me, you don’t. I don’t think anyone could identify me from the generalities I provided here, but please don’t try to dox me if I slipped up somewhere. Please : )
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The desert is less lonely when you are sharing a secret with someone. The sunrise kisses the sand, touching down on a pair, similarly still lip-locked, chapped, and sore. We spent the night watching the stars, the same constellations that held such a forecast in our lives. There was no time for sleep, only sparring. Our bodies lie covered in patterns, dark purple and burgundy. We can conceal them in our linen smocks and pants. I can watch as his body bends in the afternoon sun, remembering the sweat and smell of him, reveling in the certainty that I own a part of his experience here on this exit from typical reality. If only until the end of the week, we can toss and tumble and never sleep. If only until one of us gets bored, we can recreate everything once lost to the past.
–
Every decision leads to forks and trees, splitting infinitely across possibilities, failures, and consequences. I yearned for college because I wanted to find this out for myself. I pulled myself to another state and started my quest to feel everything, quickly stumbling into a man who I knew would teach me something new, perhaps dangerous. He looked older than me, a fresh eighteen year old with no major and no clue. I was hoping to get by on a baby face and a zest for life. I was exactly what he was looking for, and he’d waste no time making me realize the feeling was mutual.
He sat on the concrete border of a nonfunctional wishing fountain, head bopping to some song on his iPod, and sheepishly dragging a metallic e-cig. As I approached, he stood up and looked at me expectantly, as if he was playing like I was meant to see him here. I met his eye contact ; deep, stormy brown eyes sized me up. Even a man of average height like him made me feel small. He still seemed to tower over me even though I was armed with my heeled boots, trying to walk tall and confident. I pushed my shoulders back and puffed out my chest, playing coy as I continued to walk.
“Hey, come back.”
I stopped in my tracks faster than my mind could meet my legs. I felt dazed, shaken. I had played out this fantasy scene through my teens. I wished to be the seductress when I was of age, free of the religious and morally bankrupt judgment of my family. This was it, my chance to play myself in this role, an opportunity I felt as an ache through my whole body.
I shuddered in narcissistic excitement knowing that I had chosen such a perfect outfit for a meeting like this. In the late summer sticky heat, I wore a cropped t-shirt with no bra securing breasts that were still growing at that point, a hearty 34E. Paired with the top were a pair of cotton trousers, cinched in tight at the waist to highlight every proportion I wanted passing eyes to linger over.
“I’m James.”
He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair as I answered his call.
“I’m Strawberry.”
We talked for hours as strangers passed by. Nothing off the table: music, hobbies, fears, insecurities. He revealed he played bass; I played guitar. He said we should start a band some day. I told him that would be fantastic.
One conversation led to an exchange of numbers, a few rendezvous in the backseat of his car, nights out with afterparties held under sheets. I yearned for his cock, thicker than the cocks I had sucked and worshipped before. I felt the sides of my mouth stretch and strain to fully take him in my mouth. I had never swallowed someone’s cum before; my ex-boyfriend had always pushed my head away with some unexplained insecurity surrounding it, but not James. James let me decide what I wanted to give him, and what I wanted was to lick every last drop from the still-twitching head as he loosened his grip on my ponytail. My purpose was to drain him of his bad days, all his sadness. I would suck it up and swallow it for him so he could move on with his day. I would feel useful; I owned a mouth that could charm him with both words and intimacy. I felt this every time I was able to spend with him, meetings that always seemed to end with me craving so much of him, as if one hour was a year.
Too soon, he became a figment of my imagination with texts gone unanswered and a pit in my stomach that proved to be true. He had found someone else, and she was not happy to see my name on his phone screen. Her antagonistic messages on various forms of social media proved she was very serious about making me pay. So I left that thought there, just a memory to find when I wanted to feel bold and unabashed. Maybe someday. Maybe. There were so many other men out there that could fill his place, but not really. I found myself comparing every new man to him as he lived a life parallel to me, happy and fulfilled.
–
Two years later, through a series of wild coincidences, I found my way back into the web of James. He wanted to gleefully introduce me to a drummer and vocalist and follow through on what we had both thought was a fleeting fancy of drunken and high silliness. They had songs they wanted me to play with them, and they had friends in high places that could help us find places who would welcome us as well. We spent hours, days, ultimately a year preparing together. Every day was full of hard work, ultimate motivation. I felt stretched thin by school and constantly creating, but James remained a steady, supporting hand in everything.
Our work paid off; we were booked for a tour, one that had a few days promised to a festival in the desert. We hopped in a large camper van with no room to spare and sped off. The shows were an exhausting blur of bright lights, loud crowds, the static brain of mixing drugs, and rushed conversations with faces I can’t remember and names I forgot the moment I was told. I was thrilled to be approaching the stretch of tour where we would hunker down in our van, basking in the attached loft space that made us all feel richer than the tour profits would ever suggest we were worth. I filled it with pillows, blankets, generators with power strips and LED lights that blinked at the command of a remote. Of course, there was a picnic basket filled with drugs: mushrooms, weed, molly, some edibles.
That space was a welcome reprieve after the long, sweaty set. We were plagued by mosquitos and the sticky spray of spilled beers and mixed drinks, the crowd sloppy and happy by this point in the night. I rode my mountain bike back to the campsite with James by my side, whooping and cheering randomly at the joy of being there, not popular enough to fear losing anonymity in a crowd, but feeling honored to have a purpose there.
When we arrived back, I locked my bike and took leaps up the spiraling staircase to the loft. James followed me, despite not hearing an invitation. I was only interested in shedding my skin, wiping off my stage makeup and stripping the fringe bra with matching leather hot pants. James strolled to the picnic basket and pulled out three pre-rolls. I scoffed, but still took the joint offered as I retrieved my makeup remover and cotton pads.
“You gonna do that thing where you make yourself look like a crazy person with your eyes all messed up?”
I chuckled and nodded. I felt a blush spreading over my cheeks, charmed by him being aware of something I thought my van-mates largely ignored. I realized he had been watching me, silently amused by my routine.
“Can I help?”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured for me to follow him over to the mats on the floor and unzipped one of the large windows in the loft. The desert was illuminated by the string lights of fellow campers and the guiding lights set up by the festival. We had what felt like an insanely tall birds-eye view above everyone else, lounging superiority. We both sat, and he took the cotton pads and makeup remover out of my hands, shaking the mixture together and pouring it onto the pad as if he had done it a hundred times.
“Close your eyes.”
I obliged and soon felt his calloused hand gently cradle my chin upwards to steady my head, the other slowly swiping away the makeup on one eye. The hand supporting my chin lowered to my neck, and I felt my purse quicken against his fingers. With my eyes closed, I felt and heard everything surrounding me so intimately. His breath was steady, but breathy. The feeling of his thumb behind the pad as he brushed it up my cheekbone sent a shiver through me. My blush deepened. I wanted to tell him to stop; I had a partner back home, dedicated and in love with me deeply. He had a partner as well, a beautiful, graceful artist. We both had people waiting for us back home, but we still chose to sin in this way, however innocent on its face. The sounds I involuntarily made did not sound platonic, and I had to choke back anything that would give me away as the needy pervert I was.
He dutifully cleaned my face and reached for the hairbrush in his duffle. I scooted forward to make room for him, and he settled in behind me. Meticulously, he pulled out every last bobby pin and hair tie, then lightly massaged my scalp that was now free from the showy updo. I rolled my head around in response to his touch, rubbing against his hands to encourage him to rub deeper and longer. He clasped my chin again and stopped rubbing, instead starting to brush my hair slowly, gently encouraging out the knots. I fetched my joint and lit it, sucking deep and long as I tilted my head back to look up at James. I offered him a drag and he took several, so I matched him, quickly feeling my head floating above me. Every stroke of the brush felt like an itch that had been desperately begging for a scratch. I felt overstimulated, lying back against him in his chest. I felt warm and hyper-aware of my clothes that stuck to me, pressing against my stomach and restricting my breasts so tightly.
“Can you get the clasp on my bra?”
He hesitated for a moment.
“Yeah?”
“Not in a weird way. I just can barely breathe in this thing and I want to smoke more weed.”
“Hah, okay. Gotcha.”
He took a moment to nurse a long hit on the joint and then quickly unsnapped my bra. I pulled the straps down and let my tits fall, maintaining some censorship by hiding some of myself with my long hair. I stole the joint back and stood up, swaying over to the cushion. In the same way he had done, I beckoned him over to sit next to me. When he sat down, I laid back onto his lap and stared up at him, then over to the bulge in his pants, so obvious as it pressed against my cheek. I let my hair fall to my sides, exposing my full torso to him as I smiled. He placed his hand on my upper chest and slowly danced it downwards, stroking to my bellybutton and then back up. With his other hand, he cupped one of my breasts and teased his finger around my nipple. I gasped, back arching against him as I began to quietly moan. He moved his other hand up so both of my breasts were in his grasp, massaging me, only stopping to flick or pull on a nipple. I writhed against him and felt his cock pulsing against his tight jeans. He was just as turned on as me. We both needed more.
I turned my head slightly so my lips were practically touching his jeans. I began kissing his bulge and rubbing my mouth against it through his pants. He was so hard, I could feel his heartbeat pulsing behind constriction, begging to be released.
“Undo your pants.”
I picked my head up so he could pull apart the button fly, and marveled at the sight of him slowly pulling down his briefs, every inch building up the tension towards the final release when it exploded outwards ceremoniously. It was just as I remembered, so thick and hard with a length hat had only been bested by a few other men since we had first slept together. I felt the same urge to slobber on it as I once had. I wanted to suckle the head of his cock as I tickled the underside of his balls, lightly stroking his cock to bring him close to the edge.
He must’ve recognized my expression. He laughed and took me by the face.
“Can you kiss my face before you kiss my cock?”
I giggled and fell into a deep kiss. We rolled around, sucking and biting on each other’s skin. The rolling became a small spar as he pinned my arms back and pulled down my leather shorts, taking my panties with them. He made himself equally naked and then held me down again with his knees, his cock swiping my chin as he hovered above. I broke free from his grasp and hopped atop him, pushing down his arms. The battle of power got rougher as both of us grew more exceptionally hot and bothered. Our hands on each other began grabbing with more force, throwing each other back onto the cushions and utilizing all limbs to keep our opponent prone. We bit each other and suctioned our mouths until we could see the skin turning colors already, then suctioned more until the other cried out in a desperate, low moan that they’d had enough.
He was breathless as I made it out on top, staring down at him from my position of power above. I quickly leaned down and gently kissed every bruise I had left below where he could hide the marks with a collared shirt, so sweet and kind compared to how I had given him those very bruises. I kissed down his neck, chest, stomach, and lingered above his cock before finally kissing the head gently while smiling at him. I popped the head in my mouth, teasing him with a tickling tongue in circular motions at his most sensitive spot. He let out a moan and gripped onto the cushions, which encouraged me to take more into my mouth, applying a healthy amount of sanction. Saliva dripped down the length of his cock as I gave the top half attention. I reached down and took his balls into my hand, gently stroking and playing with them to make him twitch in my mouth. Inch by inch, I swallowed more of him deeper, taking all of him into my mouth and throat. I started sucking the full length, bobbing my head up and down while grasping his hips. I encouraged him with my hands to thrust himself into my mouth more, fucking my face like he used to.
He gratefully indulged me and grabbed onto my hair for support. Every time his grip tightened, so did my mouth’s grip on him. Every time he felt too close to the edge, he would stop thrusting, and I would keep myself dead still, just breathing onto the tip.
“Your mouth is too fuckable, Strawberry.”
I took that exasperated statement as an invitation to slowly slide my mouth down the length of his cock again, savoring every inch my lips graced. As I sucked, I realized I was grinding myself against the seam of the cushion, making my already excited clit beg for more contact. I began consciously grinding against the cushion as I sucked him, my pace increasing as I felt myself nearing an orgasm. James noticed what I was doing, the sight of it making him want to pound my face harder until I couldn’t help but gag and choke. His cock was so hard and full of wanting; I could see it twitch every other second with a steady flow of precum dripping. He was too close to cumming, and I wanted to cum more first.
“Lay across my lap.”
Again, I needed to listen. I moved over and got on all fours over his body. He began slowly rubbing my clit with one hand, massaging a tit with the other. I moaned and begged for him to go faster, to let me cum. He responded by taking away his hand completely, and I whined. He instead inserted two of his long, strong fingers inside of me, immediately finding my g-spot and making me yelp in pleasure. He curled his fingers masterfully and nurtured every sensitive nerve I had deep inside of me, pulsing his fingers at a steady rhythm as if I was a string on his bass. With his thumb, he returned to giving my clit attention. I felt like he was holding up my entire body with his one hand inside, controlling every moment of my emotions.
I came hard and unsurprisingly squirted directly downwards while shoving my hand over my mouth, begging our band mates to be deaf and dumb to what we were doing. He dove under me and began lapping up all the wetness covering my crotch, then pulled me onto his face by my hips with a rough grip so he could kiss and suck my clit. I grinned myself against him, feeling the warmth of both his tongue and his breath, struggling to catch air under my pussy and ass smothering him. I squirted again. Every touch, every type, made me weak and pushed me over the edge immediately. My senses were screaming for him to touch all inches of me, to keep fingerfucking me, to keep licking me, to never stop fucking me until we can’t breathe or we pass out.
Five more times, he licked my clit to the point where I was rolling around on my back and pulling my own nipples hard, twisting them outwards, just to escalate all the feelings. He made me beg for his cock to be inside of me. He didn’t have to ask. I was a blubbering, soaking mess that reached desperately for him and guided him inside of me. It felt just the same, his cock stretching me and filling me up with a warm hardness that I felt in every nerve. He started slow, grabbing onto my thighs for support and rubbing his thumb on my clit. Harder. Faster. With every thrust, he increased the pace in a controlled way. I found myself lost in the bat, rolling into orgasm after orgasm as he smiled down and laughed at me for covering him with so much squirt and choking his cock with my convulsing vaginal muscles.
He pulled out and flipped me over to take me from behind, grabbing my hair back in a ponytail with one hand and grabbing my ass firmly with the other. I felt euphoric. He pushed deeper than I thought was possible. I thought he would destroy my cervix, but the pleasure was so large that I couldn’t care less. I pushed back against him and slammed my ass into his hips. HIs grasp around my hair tightened, and he warned me he was going to cum soon. I warned him to stop because I wanted to see his face when he came. So, we went back to missionary with my legs draped over his shoulders. I danced my fingers across my clit as I watched him bite his lip and hold back heavy moans. Looking into his eyes, I came hard for the final time that night, spraying more of myself against his lower stomach. Immediately after, he pulled out his cock and began stroking it intensely, getting ready to finish. Finally, his cock exploded with cum, covering me from my stomach to face, so many inches of me kissed by small splotches of cum.
We lay back and broke into giggles as the hormones settled in our bodies. James got up from the cushion and retrieved us both towels. I leaned in to kiss him as we both wiped the mess we had made on each other. He fell back onto the cushion, and I followed him, resting my head on his chest as we both stared out the window and I mate note of the lights that had since been turned off in the time we had fucked. Others were settling into their bunks and bags for the night in preparation for the next full day of leisure while James and I rolled around in the sheets.
–
This would be our secret that was never told, just lived out in the shadows of every tour date afterwards. Everyone in the band became busy with other projects, and me needing to graduate school. We both found new, beautiful partners. But James and I will always have this story. We will always have that moment in our lives. That opportunity manifested in pure fate, the random events that kept leading me back to him.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/vc06us/fm_sharing_a_dirty_secret_with_my_20f_former
This is such a beautifully written story.