A Spontaneous Date

I desired a cock last night. I sent Frank a text: "Wanna fuck?" There wasn't a response. I gave him a call, got voice mail, and hung up without leaving a message. I thought about Gi, who I saw a few weeks ago, but concluded that the two of us have reached the end of the line. The sex satisfies, but we don't talk enough. His casual chauvinism is off putting. I don't like his lack of inquisitiveness. He also lives in a part of town that is inconvenient for me to visit.

I received several calls from the States yesterday, but I figured that everyone who would telephone had already done so. I decided upon a visit to my local in order to seduce a random guy for the night. Buying myself a pint, I insinuated myself into a group of Germans who were standing near the bar. Two of the men in particular chatted me up, but neither interested me much. Another pint, and I latched on to a conversation on American politics. The guy from California who flirted with me wore a gold wedding band. He did not move away when I touched my hand to his arm. The two of us went up to the bar to replenish drinks for the table. Though the pub was sparsely populated on a Monday, we waited for the bartender to take our round of orders. I stood close to him, and while we chatted, my ass brushed his thigh. When I returned from a visit to the toilet, I noticed his friends (a couple) whispering to him conspiratorially. The colloquy subsided to an abrupt silence as I approached. Once my half pint glass of lager was empty, I made a move to the door. The California guy sat there. I hoped he would follow, but he didn't.

Oh, well, I thought. Good for his wife.

I checked my phone. Frank hadn't responded. He is spending most of the summer in Oxford. I didn't see him this weekend when I knew he was in town because I had to entertain a friend from graduate school who was passing through London on her way to Lahore. It was a shot in the dark.

On the way home, I stuck my head into the bar by the youth hostel. No one in there attracted me enough to stay. I decided to call it a night, masturbate, and go to bed. My shoes clopped on the pavement as I mused over whether to do it in the bathtub with the waterproof vibrator or in bed with the dildo while viewing porn.

I checked my phone again. An SMS from Frank: "Tonight you mean?"

Two fingers instantly tapped out a reply. "Yeah."

"Give me 1 hour."

"Ok."

The roommate is out of town this week, so the flat was mine. Once I returned to the apartment, I undressed, took a quick shower, and slipped into lingerie: a fishnet black slip that hid nothing and left the cheeks of my ass hanging out. I poured a glass of wine and waited for Frank in the living room.

I sent another message to emphasize my desire. "Where are you? You need to be in my pussy."

"You need to drink my cum." He never could spell that last word as I preferred.

The door buzzed five minutes later. The preliminaries were brief. He followed me into the bedroom and stripped.

Lips nibbled the foreskin. The head peered out tortoise-like. I coaxed him out of his shell, not that he needed much persuasion.

"It's my birthday," I announced. "I need to blow out a candle."

I sucked him. I stretched out on the mattress on my belly and, slurping loudly, inhaled cock. Before long, I had the crown in my throat. I breathed around the shaft and through my nose while I extended the point of the tongue to touch his balls. Fingernails scratched through his thick nest of pubic hair. Hands gripped Frank's tree trunk thighs. At the start of this blowjob, Frank steepled his fingers together and rested them atop my head in a blessing. Once his penis shined with saliva, he reached between my legs and manipulated my pussy from underneath my buttocks. His fingers splashed my interior wetness over the labia. I was conscious of how pervasive my scents were.

Frank held the cock vertical, and I pressed my mouth against the heavy balls. While my lips fastened on the testicles and tugged, my fingers replaced his on the shaft. My palm applied a bit of force to the underside. It rolled against the tumescent flesh while I licked the sensitive frenulum and nipped the apron of foreskin first with lips, then with teeth. Fisting the shaft, I stroked from bottom to top extremely slowly. Lowering spit over the head to lubricate the movements of my hand, I decelerated the rise and fall even more and added a slight twist. Though the tempo slackened, my grip did not. I jerked him off this way, fascinated by the changes in the patterns of his breathing, the minuscule shifts in the density of the flesh, and the palpable tow of desire in his hisses.

His speech was barely intelligible. He enunciated the desire that I should go faster. Ignoring him, I maintained the so slow rhythm. My left hand smoothed over the face of his sac. The balls contracted under my touch. Tightening my closed hand about the stem, I felt the surge of semen below the soft velvet skin and the pulsations of the nerves within. Shucking my right hand to the bottom, two fingers from the left pressed hard against the base of the shaft. A ribbon of whiteness flashed before my eyes and striped my cheek. Quickly, I captured the head in my lips and sucked forcefully.

The penis shuddered in my fingers and hopped against my lip. The ejaculate came out in rapid fire bursts. I drank his come. My tongue washed around the crown when he finished.

Frank's index finger swept over my cheek and collected the first explosion of his semen. I lapped it from his hand.

We kissed for a bit, and then Frank was ready to go again. I extracted a condom from its wrapper and rolled it over the penis. He laid down on the bed. I gripped the shaft in the middle, placed the head at the entrance of my cunt, and lowered my weight on top. As always, the slide of cock felt exquisite. My vagina tightened about the erection.

Frank let me bounce over him while he squeezed my breasts through the fishnet. I hunched forward and fed him one of my tits. He pressed the mesh taut against the breast, slipped the nipple through, and snapped it up with his lips. He nursed wetly. The slurps he made were loud. We kissed mouth to mouth. Frank gripped my buttocks and took over the pace and the direction of the fuck.

He flipped me onto my back, stood on the floor, and clasped my legs where the knees folded. I slid downward across the silky sheets onto his erection. Pussy was impaled by penis. The thick cock pummeled me after that. My fingers rubbed energetically over the clit.

He wanted to switch positions again. I could tell from the concentration in his brow that his orgasm was imminent. I gripped his arm. "No. Keep fucking me," I said. I wouldn't come before him this time, but that was fine; I could wait. He panted during his final moments and grunted each time that his cock spurted.

Frank and I huddled in bed. He ran his fingers through my hair and feathered his hand down my shoulders. I nestled myself in the crook of the arm which wrapped around me. He fingered my tits idly. While we chatted about nothing in particular sometimes his fingers would stray to my pussy. I invited Frank to go with me to Paris the first weekend in September as my date to the roommate's wedding. He said he wasn't certain about the date - he would consult his diary and get back to me. We kissed for long minutes.

Technically speaking, it was no longer August 15th. Frank sang "Happy Birthday" to my cunt anyway, then went down on me. My fingers interlaced with his while his lips and tongue worked my clitoris over. I like that he always makes certain that I orgasm, too.

My limbs were heavy after coming. Sleep claimed me.

We didn't fuck again till morning. It was sex in the missionary position, a quickie because I had no time for more. We are hosting a conference at the university. I had seminars to attend and could not linger in bed. As it was still early, Frank decided to have a lie in and let himself out after I had departed.

I have been around the sun twenty-six times now. The twenty-seventh circuit has started well.

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