Pretty, posh, dirty, crazy Haley. [MF]

Haley. Haley was everybody’s type. Blonde and curvy, tall enough to not be short but not tall either. The prettiest upturned nose and insane blue eyes and lips that made men tingle. Promising cleaving that was typically accentuated with teasing necklines, full hips and an ass that made everyone stare. And best of all, a bona fide posh accent, the cherry on the icing of the cake that was Haley.

Only circumstance would allow someone like me to ever dream of being with someone like her. Lovely circumstance. I was lingering outside the bar, just across the road, far enough away from the bouncer that he couldn’t smell my spliff. Close enough that he could see it. Close enough that I saw her walk out. Close enough that she saw me. As she walked over I had to remind myself not to stare at her cleavage, her teasingly unbuttoned blouse that offered a glimpse of lace and smooth, milky white flesh.
I offered her the joint and she hesitantly accepted it with a caveat of “ I really shouldn’t, but…”. I watched her lips pucker and her cheeks concave as she took a solitary puff. I imagined things that guys imagine and felt a tingle and a pang of creepy shame.

“I’m off. One more drink and I might end up doing something regrettable” she said with her superhuman enunciation and that posh accent. Her words were making me swell. Her cleavage was helping.

“So… one more drink? I said, playfully, cheekily, hopefully.

She smiled and shook her head. My attempt at an attempt failed. My mind turned to the full pint that I’d left behind. Warm, malty consolation. My flat silver lining.

I handed her the final toke and memorized her face, my takeaway, for later. Chinese food and memories was as lucky as I expected to get. When I casually offered to walk her home it was out of basic courtesy. I was thirsty. My pint was beckoning.

“That would be nice” was her reply. I debated asking her to hang around while I downed my pint but thought better if it. She led the way and off we went, down the road, around the corner, over the bridge. We were in the nice part of town, where trees lived and sidewalks were for walking. She stopped outside a building that looked like I’d have to pay to look at, an apartment building with a lobby and warm lights and flowers in the foyer and an actual, real doorman.

“This is me”. She said with a little smile. I nodded, dreading the boring walk back. I was about to say goodnight, to go home to Chinese and a tug, to mourn my abandoned pint and curse my courtesy.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” she asked. I fucking froze.

“For a drink?” I asked, thrown, suddenly nervous.

“For a shag. You can have a drink as well, if you’d like.”

Jesus fucking Christ. It was too much to process. The way she said “shag”. The fact that she said “shag”. The casualness with which she said “shag”. I just nodded and tried to keep my grin under control.

So I followed her into the sparkling lobby, past the doorman who greeted her and judged me, into the spotless elevator. Butterflies were swarming in my stomach. “Shag”. The lack of pretense was awesome and terrifying. She pulled a blue pill out of her purse and handed it to me. I knew what it was. I swallowed it without a second thought.

Her apartment was something otherworldly. Wooden floors, high ceilings and furniture that couldn’t be disassembled with an Alan key. Her couch was clearly worth more than everything I owned. There were pictures of her skiing and horse riding and doing things rich people did. And there was actual artwork, with brush strokes instead of pixels, mounted and hung instead of taped to the wall.

I stood there, watching her take off her shoes and put them neatly on the large rack, trying to identify the smell. Vanilla? Cinnamon? Leather? Mahogany? It smelt like what I imagined wealth smelt like. I took my shoes off because it seemed the proper thing to do.

I browsed through bookcase, doing my utmost to act casual.

“See anything you fancy?” she asked. I turned around and she was stood in the middle of the living room, near the couch, on a rug that looked like it cost more than holiday, casually unbuttoning her blouse.

“A couple things” I said, or stammered, as I stared at her lovely cleavage bursting out of her white, silky bra. I walked toward her. She shrugged off her blouse. We were face to face. I slid my hands up her sides, my fingertips brushing her smooth skin. She unbuckled my belt. I cupped her breasts and that’s when I discovered her bra was padded. I felt like I’d been lied to. Not that I cared. They were boobs. Real boobs.

I scooped them out. Barely handfuls, firm yet soft. Nipples so pink, so hard, not too big, not too small. Barely any areola, just little pink bumps. To my delight, the right one was pierced. My right. As soon as I touched it she whimpered. My cock was in her hand, her cold, bony fingers tightly wrapped around my shaft. I tried to kiss her and she stepped back.

Her skirt fell to the floor. Her panties matched her bra. I stepped forward and she spun around, revealing an ass that made me gulp – big and perky, firm enough to hold shape but soft enough that it jiggled a bit as she walked away. I followed her, leaving just enough distance to allow me to stare.

She said something about making tea. Fuck that. With a quick double step I was behind her, pressing her up against the wall, my shaft between her cheeks, precum oozing as she gently wriggled her hips. One hand on her breast, the pierced one, the other down the front of her panties, my fingers flicking her clit with all the subtlety of a kid playing with a light switch. It worked well enough to make her squeal.

“We should probably use a condom…” she whimpered.

“We probably should” I grunted, disappointed because I’d have to stop, but aware it was the sensible thing to do.

But then she grabbed my cock.
“I’m on the pill… let’s be naughty…”

I couldn’t complain. Common sense had no lines in this scene. She pulled her panties aside. I bent my knees and she guided me into her.

“Jesus Christ….” I groaned as her warm wetness engulfed me. She wriggled her hips and I buried myself inside her, pressing her into the wall, tugging her nipples, strumming her clit, groaning into her ear.

“Oh God.. that feels so good…”

I thrust. A slow, cautious thrust. An assessment. She was wet, that slimy wet that only a vagina can be. And mercifully, she wasn’t particularly tight. I would have felt cautiously confident, if it wasn’t for her words.

“It feels so good… deep inside me…. “

Her hands were on the wall and she was pushing back against me. I thrust again, a hard thrust that made her yelp.

“Yes… do that…”

I paused to regroup but she didn’t shut up.

“Do it.. don’t tease me…”

I thrust again.

“Yes… fuck me…”

I thrust again.

“Faster.. give it to me…”

She didn’t shut the fuck up. A constant commentary, throaty and posh and demanding.
A solid minute of me thrusting and her talking, dictating, directing. It was awesome and sordid and primal, a proper fuck, not sex or lovemaking or a shag. A fuck. A good fuck.
All good things come to an end. My determination to keep pace, to give her what she demanded… that was my undoing.

“Oh shit… Haley…”

If I’d stopped then I might have survived.

“No… don’t stop… don’t you dare…”

So I didn’t. The last sprint was intense, everything she wanted, my hips ramming against hers, so fast and so hard and perfectly desperate, the kind of desperation that only comes with imminent destruction.

“Haley… HALEY…”

“No… don’t… FUCK”

I was cumming and thrusting and cumming and deflating and still cumming when I slipped out. She was somewhat displeased. I was somewhat embarrassed.

Fingers. Fucking genius. I have fingers. They don’t deflate.

Four fingers, bunched up. Knuckle deep inside her, twisting and pumping and wriggling, warm and gooey and sticky with my fresh cum. More fingers on her clit, still strumming. Always strumming. Her hips grinding, pressing. Wetness trickling down my wrist.

“Okay… deeper, deeper… there, right there… yes… that’s it… like that… a bit faster… faster… yes, like that like that like that…. Okay… I’m close, don’t stop… Yes. Yes. Oh fuck. There. OKAY. Yes. YES!”

She bucked and spasmed crushing my fingers inside her, trembling and squealing and dripping. It was fast and furious. Frantic and frothy. It was fucking fantastic. When she went limp I pulled my fingers out. My hand was a sodden, sticky mess. She turned around and smiled half a smile.

“Nice save.”

And then the went to make tea with cum dripping down her thighs. I followed and stared, my limp cock dangling free, just watching her. As she waited for it to steep she casually grabbed my cock, squeezing it, tickling it, attempting to revive it while telling me about antioxidants in tea or some shit like that. It was fucking surreal.
By the time she was sipping her tea I was hard. It should’ve been awkward but it wasn’t, just another erection in the kitchen as I groped and stared and waited for her to finish her tea. A typical day in heaven.

She finished her tea and suggested we go to bed. II followed her to the bedroom, waddling like a pathetic penguin with my jeans around my thighs and my erection in my hand. Her bedroom was incredible. Plush. Big. A wooden floor and an expensive looking rug and a genuine four poster bed with more pillows than I could count and sheets that I’d never be able to afford.

“Take your clothes off and lie down” it was a gentle command. I obeyed.

She peeled off her panties and I got my first look at the good stuff, a tiny bush that betrayed her blonde hair, swollen, glistening lips and a little tattoo of a heart on her pelvis. She straddled me and rode like a horse. Dressage, not racing. Slowly grinding, little bounces, sitting upright, my hands on her breasts.

More commentary. “Oh yes, that’s it… that feels good… it’s so hard…” her feedback to herself was all positive. I lay there playing with nipples like they were thumbsticks, rubbing and twisting, pressing, flicking, watching her pretty face as she praised her performance.

Then she leaned forward and started riding me faster. Longer strokes. Louder words. “There, that’s good, yes…. Come on Haley…”. Saying her own name, the hottest, strangest thing ever. My hands were on her ass. Squeezing. Holding. “Almost… that’s it Haley, you’re right there…”. So fucking bizarre.

“YES. NOW!” She bit my shoulder as she came, spasming and shuddering, soaking and slippery, whimpering and panting. Not only had I survived, I was still very much in the game.
“Well done” she said, congratulating herself as she sat up. She wriggled, my erection sloshing and slurping about inside her as she looked off into the distance. Aside from my cock it was like I didn’t exist. Slow, squelchy circles, talking to herself, “nice and slow, mmmmm… easy Haley, don’t be greedy… take your time…” I was starting to think she was a little bit crazy. It was fucking mesmerizing.

My hands alternated between her ass and her breasts. Other than that I did nothing but lie there as she fucked herself with my erection. She started to play with her clit, her fingertips brushing as she writhed. “Gently Haley… it’s so sensitive… that’s it, there… not too fast… you’ll get there Haley…”

Fucking crazy. I was balls deep in crazy. And it was awesome. She was coaching herself through it, “a bit faster…”, “you’re getting there”, “keep going Haley”, “you’re close”.

“Okay Haley. Right there. Almost Haley. Okay. There. Yes. YES!”.

Two orgasms and all I did was lie there. Two orgasms and I was still hard. She was pink and glistening, trembling, smiling, dripping.

“I’m knackered.” She said, hoisting herself off me. No congratulations. No compliments. No thank you. No courtesy blow job. No sympathy hand job. She just climbed off the bed, said she would call me a cab and tossed me a box of tissues.

“Feel free to finish yourself off, but try not to get spunk on the sheets.”

And with that she disappeared to the bathroom. No goodbye. I thought about making a mess as a fuck you, but settled on pocketing her panties and leaving with a viagra powered erection.
Fucking Haley. Crazy, posh, rude and hot as hell.

The cab ride was awkward but short. My erection was painful and persistent. There was still time to order Chinese. I had porn and weed. And memories. I was content. And then, when I climbed out of the cab, I saw Grace. In the stoop, avoiding the gentle drizzle. Waiting.

I smiled the biggest fucking smile I’d ever smiled.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/92qn1k/pretty_posh_dirty_crazy_haley_mf