I [M] Ate Out My Angry GF [F] [Outside]

  This past summer, my girlfriend, Kris, and I visited her family and old friends down south for the weekend. We drove across the country experiencing new states for the first time… soaking in the uniquity of each coastal city… giving each other handjobs down the long stretches of country road illuminated mostly by the orange sky at dusk.
Like her sisters, Kris adhered to the better stereotypes of southern girls – blonde hair roped in a side braid, freckles sprinkling her cheeks, piercing turquoise eyes, a no-bullshit tolerance, thick pouty lips that slightly hung open, and slim, sporty legs that held up a puffy ass. She was also transitioning out of her accent at this time, but often, her words curved into that drawl. Honestly, hearing her slip out the occasional “ya’ll” was cute as shit.

All ride long, we plotted how we were going to sneak into each other’s rooms at night. Let me explain: her family is *very* traditional (Bible-swearing, hard-nosed southerners who were wary of a city kid like me dating their daughter), and we were staying in their guest rooms separately as per their wishes.

We were obviously sneaking down the hall.

After arriving in her hometown, we unpacked our bags and caught up with the folks. The next day comes and goes by way of family gossiping, over-eating heaps of southern style food I’ve never had before, and cooling off in their backyard pool. We took this opportunity to sneak in touching each other through our bathing suits. As soon as her step-dad went back inside to fetch something, Kris’ hand slid into my shorts underwater and coaxed my cock into stiffening in her palm.

“That’s really not fair,” I tell her. She giggled, pleased with her sinister self, as her stepdad comes back out and assumes we’re just talking as her hand slyly retracts. The lack of privacy and open windows to rendezvous killed us.

“Your birthday’s in a few days. We could… find a hotel room on the trip back home,” Kris suggested. She’s the type of partner that loves dressing up and going the extra mile to get me off, and I’ve never spent a birthday with her yet. Needless to say, I was looking forward to this.

 
 
 
That night, we planned to go visit her friends at the local circle of bars. Kris’ mascara fuller than ever, and her blue and black skirt showed the contour of her hips the clearest I’ve ever seen clothed. She hates the comparison, but because of her soft southern features, she has a Taylor Swift “good girl” thing going on, and this was her at the Grammy’s.

“Well, if you’re looking like that, then we have to find a quiet back room somewhere, because I’m going to be tempted to maul you,” I stare at her body.

She laughed and said, “Maybe we can stay at one of my friends’. We can tell my parents they were too drunk to give us a ride back home.”

“Why not just get a hotel room and say that, anyway?” And there it was settled.

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“Stop making the guys ogle you,” I jokingly scolded her after she sunk a shot in billiards, her bare legs lifted in the air making her ass more pronounced. We played couples doubles, a few drinks in already, and she spanked me with her stick for making the comment.

As the night carried on, I accepted premature birthday shots as my girlfriend and her friends ripped through beer after mixed drink. I knew the night would end in agony, but it was fun to let loose. The night wound down to us sitting around a bonfire and exchanging stories. Kris sat in my lap in my hoodie and her drunken alertness pounced on each moment to add a punchline.

Feeling her squirm in my lap took me away from the party and into my own daydreams. Just as I thought of the right time to break away, Kris brushed dirt off her skirt, momentarily lifting herself off my lap and making sure to egregiously hike the back up enough to give me a view of her underwear being eaten by her plump ass while everyone was shuffling around, distracted. Curtain down, my dick straight up. She sits back down on me and quietly giggles. I took my phone out and texted so she could see it:

> Hotel room. Now. You, face down.

She snatched my phone. After erasing my sentence, she typed out:

> Hotel room. You, against the wall.

I half-comically half-seriously announced to the group, “Whelllllp, it looks pretty late for us.”
Her friend protested with, “Nooo, come on! You old farts. It’s your birthday!” And, just like that, the awkward realization fell among the group to sounds of “Ohohoho”s and “Ayyy”s. Smiling, we left for the hotel down the block, where we checked into a room and I was ready to attack this girl. I put my stuff down on the table as she went to the bathroom. I went in after Kris came out, brushing her hand down my chest and locking lips as we passed, to freshen up. I came back out to her sitting on the bed, way less electric than she was a moment ago, and staring at the corner behind me.

Did the alcohol settle too much? “You ok?” I plopped down next to her and rubbed her back.

“You got a call,” her enthusiasm soaked in sarcasm.
My phone had a missed call from “Courtney.” Oh, God. Courtney was a longtime friend of mine who admitted to “being obsessed” with me since elementary school. I wrote a story about us hooking up on here. It happened before I’ve ever met Kris, but I still wasn’t right in doing it. I didn’t have any feelings for her. I was completely transparent with Kris, though, and told her everything the first time she learned about Courtney. The text just said:

 
> Happy birthday!!! <3

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It was harmless. That’s just how Courtney was. But, being that we had a one-night history together, it looked bad. It was bad.

Me: “Oh, she’s just saying Happy Birthday.” This wasn’t cutting it. The mood was gone and replaced with a much less welcomed aura of smoldering disdain. I attempted to assure her the rest of the night, doing whatever I could to over-correct the situation, but the mood was lost. I don’t think Kris was being unfair, to be honest. Nobody likes a reminder of their partner’s past romances, and I never got around to tightening the harness on Courtney’s flirtatious ways now that I was in a committed relationship. I haven’t even spoken to her, since. I was too swept away by Kris.

I wasn’t winning any battles. Stupidly, I tried to play the equivalency game, because that always works!

I brought up that we technically just went to a bar where her ex-boyfriend now works (she didn’t know) and how sometimes shit just happens.

Nope, no budge. Things got worse when I brought up the fact that we’ve been drinking and that it may have blown this out of proportion. We slept silently next to each other on the bed and I had one of the most sickening case of blue balls. Fucking Courtney.

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The next day, Kris’ parents were at work so we had the entire house to ourselves. I couldn’t help but think of all the sex we were having in an alternate universe where my phone died last night. I tried to force the issue around, which wasn’t very smart, but I missed just talking to her at this point. I barged into her room.

Me: “Ok, can we just drop this? I’m tired of fighting and we’re not close to resolving anything.”

She didn’t respond. She sat there, still moody, and I got annoyed.

Me: “Seriously? You’re actively choosing to be mad, instead?”

Silence.

Me: “You know it was nothing. I didn’t lie to you or hide anything. It’s just a stupid thing that happened and I’m sorry it hurt your feelings. Can you meet me halfway and come eat lunch?”

She continued to play with the dog and ignore my existence.

Me: “Alright. I’m not going to be the only one here trying to settle this.” I was fully aware that she needed to vent, but, like I said, I missed her. And, I’m dumb. I hopped into the shower and took extra long to relax and try to think of ways to forcibly get over this. The answer, I know, was to give it time, but *I’m way too impatient for this.*
I almost masturbated so I wouldn’t be as hot-headed, but was too distracted to finish.

I was killing time until her parents got home, then we could continue awkwardly being silent. It was so hot even with their air conditioner blowing. Maybe that was also contributing to the problem.

The southern heat became too much for me, so I put on my bathing suit and went out back to float in the pool. I made sure she heard me leave by closing the door loudly. On my back, I floated with my eyes closed while the sun nearly burnt a hole through my eyelids. About when I was going to get out, I heard the second-floor door close behind me. I turned around to see Kris walk down the wooden steps in white jean shorts and her shirt knotted in the middle, Daisy Duke style. She held a towel and book in hand.

She begrudgingly pulled up a beach chair and read next to the pool.

…Progress?

Me: “Are you coming in?”

Kris: “Nope.”

I floated around, frustrated that my attempts were flatly shot down. I changed strategy.

Me: “Put some music on,” I ordered. I don’t know. I’d rather get a reaction of any sort than nothing at all. I was dying for things to return to how they were.

Kris just lifted her eyebrow at me, puzzled at my nerve, and replied, “Yyyyyeah. No. You do it.”

Me: “I’m wet. If I touch an electronic, I’ll die. Just do it.” I wasn’t actually being bossy, but I don’t really know my logic, here. Confusion, perhaps.

Kris: “No. You only want it now that I’m down here. I just want to read.”

Me: “You can read inside in the air conditioning.”

Kris: “You can text other girls inside in the air conditioning.” This was my moment. I lifted myself out of the pool, dripping profusely, and walked over to her. She didn’t flinch at all. I stared down, not exactly knowing what I was going to do next. I wanted to scream in frustration. I wanted to yell at her for dragging this on. I wanted to break my phone. I wanted to fuck her, above all. So, I did something childish and teased her by dripping water on her legs.

Kris: “Stop it! I don’t want to get wet.”

Me: “Take your pants off, then.” No response. Well, this is where I take the riskiest dive ever. The potential positive outcome? Intense and a godsend. The potential negative? Awkward, borderline creepy, but probably not relationship ending. We knew each other’s brains inside and out.

I bent over and gripped the button of her shorts. Unsnapped. No reaction. I slowly unzipped her. Still in her book. This means it’s more than a 0% probability. Now was the make or break moment. I slid her shorts down to her knees and revealed her blue and white striped underwear.

Kris: “What are you doing.” She didn’t move from her book. She sounded stern, but there was curiosity in her voice rather than revulsion. I didn’t lose my nerve. I bent down and kissed her fully right on the node of her clit. She lowered her book and sat up in the chair. I could sense her confusion and general mixture of emotions and wanted to see how far stubbornness could go.

I rose up, still drenched in pool water, doing my best to emanate innocence. Alright, so I also tried to flex, too, while holding onto the chair and lowering back down. I again delicately kissed her mound, this time dotting her “i” a few times with the flat side of my tongue. She wasn’t won over, yet, but she was willing to be. Her body was a fixed right angle and still on guard.

Kris: “Hey,” she said. That must’ve taken minutes for her to land on saying. I looked up from her lap and pressed the tip of my tongue firmly against her on the moisture stain of her panties. If I didn’t put everything into this, it wasn’t going to work. I’d met each of her would-be protests with a deeper insert of my tongue. I pictured myself with each lick cupping the anger out of her body with my tongue. She sighed slowly, still not entirely devoid of anger, as she bent her left knee.

Me: “Mm?” I stopped momentarily and rubbed along her dampening walls with my hand. She was getting wet. It was really cute seeing her trying to stay mad while also turned on. Kris is passionate and felt our bond threatened with that text message. I didn’t have to convince her of anything she already didn’t know. I just wanted to make it clear that nothing else is as important as us needing to fuck.

Kris caught a glimpse of the adrenaline that was cultivating beneath my bathing suit. I slowly furled the rim of her underwear and pulled it beneath her thigh. My heart began pounding my entire upper body, and I saw the breath in her chest freeze for a second or so as her clean pussy was on display in her parents’ backyard. Granted, it was an expansive area with a hill obstructing any view from behind and walls separating either neighbor, but we could still hear the roar of a lawnmower on the other side.

I’ve never been so nervous about eating a girl out before. This was the first time so many risks were compiled. Am I pressing my luck? Is this too risky to do outside? Is she going to assume I’m doing this out of guilt?

I ducked under her bent legs and stuck my tongue on the lowest portion of her bare fleshy pussy, licking slowly up to her clit and punctuating it with a focused enthusiasm. As she sighed again, her elbows relaxed and she leaned back hesitantly. I repeated this a few more times until her juices streamed all over my mouth, which I lapped up and sucked on her knot. Outdoor sex had always soaked her cute little lap.

Grabbing the underside of her legs, I shoved my face as deep into her as I could, kissing and sucking on her glistening walls. She’s almost fully submitted by now, throwing her head back at certain times. At one point, she grabbed my hair and pulled me away, certain somebody was around, but then forced my face back in her. She needed her power back and I was totally fine with letting her have it. For all her stoicism, she was still helplessly horny. We’ve really only fucked romantically. Until now. She was letting me, almost forcing me to, eat her out as a form of punishment or release. As my tongue covered her clit, I traced inside her walls with my index finger. I wanted to remind her how impure this was.

Me: “Are you done ignoring me now?” She didn’t reply. My middle and ring fingers slowly penetrated inside her gushing pussy as I sat up on the chair beside her. I almost kissed her, but decided not to. Instead, I pressed on. “Are you done being a brat?”

I could see the resentment twist in her face as she wanted to give into my invitation to spar words. My hand sped up before she could retaliate. Her expression reverted back to hypnotic acceptance, so I continued.

“You would’ve fucked me you even while mad at me” I devilishly grinned.

“Shut up,” she muttered.
Every now and again, we looked at the back door. Nobody was expected at this time of day, but she was still paranoid her mom might come home early to see her daughter getting aggressively finger fucked in her backyard.

Kris reached above her head with her right arm, gripping the top of the chair. I sunk my mouth to her pussy lips again. Her face cozied up in her bicep as her mouth hung open, her hips now fully grinding on my mouth.

Me: “You looked so hot at the bar… That night I was going to throw you over the bed and stretch your little pussy.”

Her mouth gaped open and I felt her legs lock up. Dirty talk only works with her at the end, when she’s about to cum.

Kris: “I’m close. Fuck me.”

Me: “Mm mm. Cum on my lips.” I wanted to fuck, but honestly I wasn’t too sure about right here and now. I also didn’t want any reciprocal pleasure yet, be it out of power of denial or whatever. Making only her cum after all this was my own personal winning.

My fingers stayed deep in her while I sucked on her clit until she shook and stiffened, her thighs hugging my head. In a burst of movement, she pulled me up by my hair and held me at her chest as her legs continued to tremble and her pussy embraced the lump of my erection underneath my bathing suit. For what felt like 20 minutes, she held me and we both got lost in post-orgasmic daze.

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*I don’t recommend this approach if you did something very, very wrong. I didn’t chear or frame her for arson.

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—-
Later that night, we were communicating through Twitter messages in our separated rooms.

>Kris: You didn’t cum yet.
Me: Eh. You can make it up on my actual birthday.
Kris: Mmm. What’re you doing now? I’m hungry.
Me: I can sneak you in food. What do you want?
Kris: You.

After I tiptoed across the hall, she forced me inside her glossy lips against the wall of what was once her childhood bedroom. She wore fake black-framed glasses, her bright blonde hair in a ponytail, and the plaid schoolgirl skirt I bought for her.

I still remember the tv’s glow on her face as I covered her glasses and mouth in warm cum.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/7dphqx/i_m_ate_out_my_angry_gf_f_outside