The Marshall Plan

Marshall and I went out on Thursday night and got thoroughly wasted. The pub we were at closed at midnight. The two of us decided to walk to his place since it was nearby. He also had a stash of booze.

We fucked, drank, then fucked again. Around 2 am, when he could no longer raise an erection despite the ministrations of my lips and tongue, Marshall contented himself with rubbing his half hard penis over my sensitive areas. We kissed and cuddled until slumber enfolded us.

I awoke in the morning with his face between my thighs. Orgasm countervailed the modest hangover. After the initial gush of my pussy, he kept right on going. I came a second time and then a third.

I coaxed the erection from his penis and lowered a condom over it. He fucked me in the missionary position. The cock stretched me open. The tension in the shaft established vibrations in the walls of my vagina. Legs spread wide, they made a W over his thighs. His arms cradled my body and wrapped my shoulders and back. I screamed my fullness in his ear. His Dutch accented obscenities turned me on. The perspiration that coated our bodies added a glide to the movements. At times his lips crushed mine. At times the contact was barely there. Every kiss was an instant of perfection.

I died and revived in the jolt of the climax.

Between my legs, my cream had turned the condom white. Loosened up by orgasm, I clawed at his biceps and spread my legs ever wider for him. I begged Marshall to come in my pussy. He fucked me harder. Only his hips moved. He knifed the cock into me with the propulsive strength of his thighs. Balls full of sperm slapped below my pussy. One wave of orgasms rolled into the next.

Marshall's endurance had limits. His cock twitched and jerked against my vaginal walls. The orgasm set me off again. I imploded around his explosion.

I took the tube to the university, wearing a dress shirt that I had stolen from his wardrobe knotted about my midriff along with a t-shirt many sizes too large and the ratty jeans from the day before. The train was crowded. We squeezed into one corner of a car. My hands clasped about his waist for balance, I perched on the ledge by the door. As the train accelerated and decelerated below the city streets, my legs bounced against the backs of his. His delectable tight ass rode against my pubis. I kissed the nape of his neck and the center of his back.

We plan on another date next week.

Republished with permission from Leah Lays London. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.