For the last year or so, I’ve been an active participant on some gone wild subreddits, a venture which has led to some interesting interactions and discoveries. Not the least of which was a meeting between an Australian man living in the UK and myself.
He decided to visit the U.S. in order to see the eclipse in Kentucky, and, as we had been carrying on conversation for several months, he invited me to join him on his road trip to the American South.
Of course, being in the line of totality for the first complete solar eclipse in my lifetime was a tantalizing offer, and it was compounded by the fact that he and I had passed countless hours discussing philosophy, morality, mental health, and literature. Not to mention Rick and Morty and Jurassic Park.
However, buzzing at the front of my mind like the soft beginnings of a Vicodin high was the OTHER topic often under discussion during the brief windows of time in which we were both awake. It was this delicious dizziness that really solidified my decision to go with him. I can say it was a desire to meet someone new, make a new friend, and gain an incredible experience that motivated me, but, for better or worse, my cunt is often my compass. It was the way the sexual tension between us would make me press my knees together in agonizing wanting that guided my feet.
I was surprisingly unafraid as I packed and dressed to meet him the first night. I live very near Chicago, which is where his flight was scheduled to land the Thursday before the eclipse, and I opted to take a train into the city and meet him at his hotel. After getting home from work, I had to quickly shower and put on makeup so I could get to the station in time. I had worked myself into a horny frenzy all day long. My career is notoriously boring at the end of summer, especially on a weekday, so I had been alone with my thoughts for not only the entirety of my shift, but the trip home in rush hour traffic. Imagining lips on my neck and picturing the promised caresses. So when I dressed, I was intentional so that I might momentarily torture him as well. I have incredibly large natural breasts which I covered with a precariously held together black men’s button-down. I wore no bra, and my breasts threatened to undo the buttons as I tucked the shirt into a tiny gray skirt, which I paired with thigh-high socks held up with a garter belt. I debated wearing heels, but didn’t want to encumber myself too much in the event I needed to run in the city, so I laced up a pair of cherry Doc Marten’s–a gift from my new friend, in fact.
Once on the train, I applied a deep red lipstick with detailed precision and waited impatiently as the lumbering machine carried me to my salacious destination.
I felt my stomach tumbling around inside my abdomen like delicates in the dryer and could feel the anticipation in all my joints as my body tensed up, as if taking a defensive position. Understand, I had seen his cock and was aware it was much larger than I was accustomed to accommodating. So I had begun to worry about the potential physical limitations of my body and the kind of damper that might put on my plans. However, the thought of being pushed to the limits of pleasure into the category of pain was a scintillating one, and I could feel my pussy start to swell and soak with each bump on the train. I decided I needed to collect myself, so I made my way to the train bathroom and did a small amount of coke.
My fingers and lips began to buzz as I felt the familiar drip down the back of my throat. I made my way back to my seat and felt the inhibitions I had cultivated start to melt off me as the coke brought warmth to my cheeks and clarity to my mind. I floated the rest of the way to the city and continued to float out of the station and a few blocks away to the hotel. I began to feel eyes on me as I made my way, and had at first chalked it up to drug-induced paranoia. But then I noticed the glances were nearly exclusively from men. Eyes on my legs and on my tits. I smiled connivingly to myself thinking of what they might be imagining, and hoped my friend would think similar, or far worse things.
His flight had landed by the time I arrived, but he had only barely gotten in a cab, and thus I was forced to wait longer. I sat on a stone bench outside the hotel, the cold reaching up and brushing its icy fingers down my spine, forcing my back straight and my legs crossed. I smoked a cigarette as I looked around starry-and-glassy-eyed at the city, lit up and bustling even in the dark as the weekend drew near.
He texted me as he approached the building, telling me , “if you’re the one in the skirt on the bench across the street, I see you.” The fact he had seen me, my posture stiff and upright in the cold and one of my buttons undone from the trip, made my clit throb once and my mouth open a few centimeters to let out a sigh.
He directed me to come inside and told me where to go, and I obeyed, walking almost too quickly, my luggage rumbling loudly over the curb behind me. I told him one of my buttons had come undone, so I was walking funny to conceal my breast, and he did not laugh. Instead he told me to leave it undone. The instruction made the hair on my arms stand up and electricity run up and down my thighs. Again, I obeyed.
I saw him as I was coming up the escalator. He was taller than I imagined (I am hopeless at judging distances, sizes, and any other measurement just by looking) and wore a jacket that made him look slightly imposing. But his eyes were soft, and he put his hand gently on the small of my back as he led me to the elevator. We spoke very little as crowds of people bustled around us. Were I called upon to select any of those people out of a crowd I couldn’t. I couldn’t be bothered to recall a single detail. My mind was on one thing: the energy radiating from my back, his hand at the epicenter. We entered a cramped elevator, and though the speed at which it flew up the stories was nauseating, I was grateful for the velocity. Each stop emptied the compartment a little more and chiseled away at the invisible barrier between him and I.
Once we were alone in the hall, we spoke more, and his voice was soothing. I smiled uncontrollably to myself to hear him, as if his accent was tickling my eardrums.
We got inside the room, high on an upper floor, and he rushed around the room to get his bearings. I put my luggage and purse down and beelined for the window. It was a massive wall of floor-to ceiling glass, and the view of the buildings and streets below was mesmerizing. But I was only half looking at the scenery; I had repurposed the majority of my brain power on consciously positioning myself to look appealing. I straightened my back and smoothed out my hair, imagining a gazelle arranging itself among dressings and garnishes in front of a hungry lioness.
Finally, he guided me to sit next to him on the sofa. We talked a bit, I can’t for the life of me remember about what, and then he began to kiss me. His kisses were hard, pressing his lips against mine with urgency and ferocity. It was intoxicating, and it made me want to press back.
We danced like this for a few moments, our faces struggling to reclaim ground, when he sat down on the bed and gestured for me to come toward him. I stood, my heart racing as I fought to get air back in my enfeebled lungs, and moved toward him. His lips caressed my chest as he felt around over the top of my shirt, and he pushed me down to my knees. Eager to begin the task I’m sure he was going to request of me, I put my hand on the bulge his cock had formed inside his pants. The moment was brief, cut off by a cold slap across my face as he scolded, “Did I say you could touch it?”
I shook my head and hummed a weak “nuh uh.” And he gritted his teeth and groaned as he yanked me to my feet. He thrust me toward the enormous window and ripped open my top, exposing my breasts to the cold glass and pressing them against it.
“Look down there at all those people,” he commanded, “do you like that they can see your tits?”
His breathing was heavy and warm in my hear, and I let out a sigh and mumbled “mmhmm.” I had been taken too off guard to form whole thoughts. My right hand was still clenched in a fist, my mind trapped in an eternal loop as I hit refresh on the memory of how his cock felt. Nothing could have prepared me for the size. When I felt it’s girth and firmness under my fingertips they turned to live wires at the notion of it inside me. It was as if I’d touched a hot stove, and had he not slapped me, I might have pulled my hand away instinctively. Or I might not have, since I couldn’t shake away the image of it pushing the lips of my pussy aside in order to penetrate me.
It turned out I wouldn’t have to imagine for much longer, as the moment was brought to an abrupt end by the appearance of several massive spiders on the outside of the window. I found the image appropriate. Several intricate webs in which the room was ensnared, webs I’d handcrafted out of my own desire and imagination. Webs from which I had no intention of freeing myself.
He dragged me back to the bed and positioned me back on the floor. I was careful this time to caress his thighs and steer clear of his tempting erection, and I was rewarded by being told to take it out. Fumbling with his belt, I worked quickly, excited to finally see what had started the fire in my palm minutes before.
Having spent a significant amount of time posting naked pictures of myself on the internet, I am no stranger to seeing cocks. So it should be meaningful when I say I rolled my eyes back and whimpered when I saw it. I held it in my hand and he asked if it would fit in my mouth. I took his question as a challenge and immediately got to work. I began by kissing the head, leaving a trail of saliva as I worked my way down his shaft. I wanted to worship it, move my hands and mouth slowly up and down it and make it throb against my lips, but another part of me wanted it down my throat. The latter part had convincing arguments and eventually won the debate. I had never had something this size in my mouth before, let alone past my tonsils, and I could feel my throat contract as I tried to shove it down inside me. Eventually, I felt the small ‘pop’ in my throat signaling the emergence of his dick past my uvula and heard him mumble something inaudible as I released him from my swallow.
I’ll have to return to this tomorrow, my eyelids are heavy and I’m losing grip on my phone :P
To be continued….
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6zdp00/eclipse_part_one_mf_light_domination_drug_use_its
Does it really pop?
Hot as fuck ??
Man that’s hot. Can’t wait for part 2 & 3 & 4 &… ;-)
More please ?
Well done