I’d never done anything like what I did tonight. And let it be known: I am a slut. I will suck off a stranger in a movie theater if someone dares me. You know … if the guy consents, obvi. We’re all about consent here.
I get AROUND. A few months ago, I was on one of the dating apps and arranged for three guys to come fuck me in one day. One after another. A guy came at 10am. The next arrived around 3pm. And the last one popped over at 10pm. Oddly enough, they were all into the same three things: fucking my cunt. Fucking my ass. Fucking my throat. I was used and exhausted by the end of the day. My cunt was sore. My asshole was sore. My throat hurt.
But I LOVED it. A few days later, I was at a bar with a few friends and I whisked the bartender into the bathroom and let him throat fuck me until I puked up my beer into the toilet. He bent me over the toilet bowl and fucked my cunt until he was about to cum. I dropped to my knees just in time to gulp down every last drop of his sperm.
But this? This was a new one. Was it also a new low … or was it kind of exciting? IDK. Here’s what happened.
I was sitting on my couch. It was 10pm and I had a sudden craving for one of those magnum ice cream bars, so I slipped on some sandals and ran down the street to the corner store. When I got to the register, I realized I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t have my wallet. I had zero cash.
“Oh fuck,” I said.
“No cash?” The cashier said.
“No,” I said. “But I’m good for it. I swear. I live right up the street. I come here all the time.”
“I’ve never seen you,” he said.
“Ugh,” I pouted like a little bitch.
Could I have gone upstairs and grabbed a few bucks? Of COURSE. Did I want to do that? No. I didn’t.
“I’ll … ugh. I’ll show you my tits in exchange for the magnum,” I said.
“For real?” The cashier asked.
He was cute enough. Filipino. Heavily tattooed. Muscular. I hesitated. Did I want to go down this route?
“I mean, yeah, I guess,” I said.
He grabbed the ice cream bar and dangled it in my face.
“Tits for ice cream,” he said. “Bet. Let’s see ’em.”
I glanced around. I looked at the camera.
“You can stand there,” he said. “Blindspot.”
I walked off camera, glanced around one more time and lifted up my shirt, flashing a perfect stranger in exchange for ice cream.
“Damn, girl,” he said, studying my breasts.
I’ll admit, they’re perfect. C cups. Firm. Pierced nipples.
“You like them?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, you hot as fuck so I’m not surprised you got bangin titties.”
I blushed.
“I tell you what,” he said, handing me the ice cream. “You can have ice cream for free every night if you show me something different every time.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “Alright. Deal.”
Two nights later, the urge kicked in. I wanted ice cream. I headed down to the corner store.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Ice Cream Girl,” he said.
“Filipino Cashier,” I said.
He burst out laughing. I handed him the ice cream bar.
“What do you want to see tonight?” I asked.
“Mmm, damn. I mean. I wanna see that pussy, but I’m sorta inclined to say Dealer’s Choice. I got a feeling you’re pretty kinky. Maybe you’ll surprise me.”
“As it happens,” I said, spinning around. I pulled my leggings down, turned around and bent over.
“Yoooo!” He shouted when he saw my heart shaped buttplug firmly inserted in my asshole.
I turned around and he slid me the ice cream bar.
“See you around,” I said with a wink.
A few nights later, I was on a really lousy first date with this guy who worked in real estate and was WAY too impressed with himself. But … he was cute so I wanted to fuck him. Thing is, I don’t think he was feeling it. He was way too buttoned up and proper. I was a little edgier. Into the punk and metal scene. Pierced nipples and all of that.
I got the “nice to meet you” handshake when we left the bar. So, I walked home alone and dejected. And then, I saw my little corner store. My little Bodega Boyfriend.
“Well, hello there,” I said.
“Ice Cream Girl,” he said, perking up. He put his phone down. When a boy puts his phone down you KNOW you’ve got him. I grabbed my bar and handed it to him.
“So this is our third date,” I said. “I guess that means you get to see my pussy.”
“So second date means asshole?” He asked.
“Exactly,” I said.
I stepped into the blindspot and pulled my leggings down, showing him my pussy. My lips were shaved clean, but I had a full, thick bush. I chewed my bottom lip as he studied my lips.
“Damn,” he said. “I love your pussy. It’s immaculate.”
He did the chefs kiss thing. My nipples got hard. I really liked him. He never pressured me. He never guilted me into doing more. He took the deal as it was. He never asked for more.
“So,” I said. “What time do you get off?”
“Oh, I work the night shift. I’m off at 6am.”
“Ew gross,” I said. “Are you uh, all alone in here?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“So … if I walked behind the counter, would it bother you if I sucked your cock?”
“Naw,” he said laughing. He lifted the little gate and escorted me behind the counter.
I took to my knees and unzipped his pants, hiding as well as I could in case a customer came in. He had a thick, hard cock. It was perfect. I took him in my mouth and sucked and gagged on him. He grunted and groaned and gripped my head, holding me down.
“That’s it,” he whispered.
The front door bell rang as a customer walked in.
“What’s up?” The customer asked.
The cashier nodded.
I slurped and slobbered all over him, taking him deeper and deeper until my nose was pressed against his pelvis. Saliva flowed out of my mouth.
“That’s it,” he moaned.
The customer walked up to the register. The cashier rang him up.
“Have a good one,” the customer said.
The bell rang. Alone again, I slurped and gagged all over his cock, taking him deeper and deeper. He pumped his cock down my throat. I locked eyes with him.
“Cum on my face,” I begged. “I’ll walk home with your load all over me.”
“For real?” He asked.
“Do it,” I begged. “Do it. Soak me.”
He stepped back and took aim. I looked up at him eagerly. He stroked. He ejaculated, shooting two thick ropes of cum over my face.
“That’s it,” I moaned as he emptied himself. I stood up and walked out from behind the counter. I opened the door, his sperm dripping off my face, running down my forehead, dangling off my nose. I took the ice cream bar from the freezer and waved it at him as I walked out of the bodega.
When I got home, I took a little video selfie of myself eating the ice cream bar with his cum on my face. I’d show it to him next time I popped in for some ice cream. But as I ate the ice cream, recording the video, I got so horny, I propped the camera up against some books on my coffee table. I stood up and pulled my pants down, spreading my legs and masturbating. His cum still dripping from my chin, splattered through my hair.
I ate the ice cream while I rubbed my clit. I pumped my fingers in and out of myself, moaning even louder. My cunt gushed, squirting onto the floor. I moaned and moaned and made myself cum.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” I moaned as I scooped up his cum and licked it off my finger.