True Sex Stories: Sex On The Edge

"His tongue swirled around my clit. I gyrated, attempted to make direct contact between his tongue and my clit, but he moved south, licked around my entrance. Unable to withstand the prolonged torture, I tried to finger myself...

Thank Venus for shopping malls. My ardor overruled the cloud of guilt. We couldn't afford a glam hotel, but we did find a vacant toilet in the shopping mall.

On the way to the mall, we barely spoke. In fact, I told him to shut up, not speak. He dug his right hand into his coat pocket, to minimise his hard-on. I rushed along with my handbag dangling at the elbow. No doubt, I'd rewind to this moment and picture our forms. What type of couple did we look like? Difficult to tell. Harried, horny or both?

When I did turn around in the café, the image I saw didn't frighten me. I figured that he'd been spying on my profile from the row behind.  Tall, lean and blessed with a pair of generous lips, he raised his hand to wave and I noticed his long fingers. I Imagined his first three fingers sinking deep inside my pussy.

He almost pulled me off my feet. His mouth ground against mine, and it took a few more moments until we found our perfect kissing rhythm but we got there. Our tongues alternated; he fucked my mouth and I returned the gesture as I ground my pelvis against his. It's as I sense his hard cock somewhere beneath his layers that I felt my skin bristle with primal lust.

"Here," he said, and raised my skirt. "Fuck…wait…"

My tights came down with my panties.

"Yeah…uh-uh…there," I breathed as I directed his fingers to my wet hole. "Fuck me there…"  I guided his first two fingers inside me, "Ahhh…yes…"

He watched his fingers disappear and reappear, "You're so fucking wet and delicious. I can do this all day."

"F-Fuck me…."

The smooth thrusts multiplied. I shut my eyes and rode his fingers. Then I remembered his cock. The compulsion to watch his rigid arousal stroked my inner slut to a frenzy.

"Come on baby," I said as I fumbled with his fly. "Show me that cock. Fuck me with it."

"I hope you take it…I'll give it to you," he nibbled my earlobe and groaned into my ear. I spread wider, as much as my tight allowed.  My thighs held his hand in position.

Breathing deeply, he said, "I want to lick you out now. Step out of them."

By them, he meant the tights. I stepped out of my pumps and sat on the closed lavatory. He crouched and pulled my tights and soaked panties down further.

"Push your ass forward," he commanded, "On the edge. Until your cunt is on the edge."

After satisfying the request, I leaned back and shivered as his warm fingertips spread my labia open. Almost shy, I watched him slurp at my cunt through half-lidded eyes. Heat prickled my inner thighs and began to crawl upward like an invading army. I thrust my pelvis upward, embellished the gesture with a needy moan and threw my head back.

He briefly raised his head to reveal shiny lips and a chin soaking with my pussy juice. "You fucking horny bitch…"

"Don't s-stop."

His tongue swirled around my clit. I gyrated, attempted to make direct contact between his tongue and my clit, but he moved south, licked around my entrance. Unable to withstand the prolonged torture, I tried to finger myself, for him to reject the motion a quick slap of my hand.

"You'll wait," he said and returned between my legs to shove his tongue into my pussy.

"W-We don't have t-time…" I moaned.

"Fuck them…No one's here," he says, and starts fucking me with his first two fingers.

"Your cock…put your cock in me," I demanded, trying to reach forward and grab his thick shaft. Face damp and hot, I swallowed and released all my emotions through a series of short pants. Whether he succumbed or felt pity, he stopped and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a condom square, unwrapped it and deftly rolled it onto his stiff shaft.

Lips pursed, he eased himself inside me. "How's  that feel."

"Fucking wonderful…fuck me."

"Say please," he said.

"Please."

I must have looked a sight. Seated on the toilet and spread wide, tights to my ankles, skirt raised to my waist, hair somewhere round my shoulders whilst waiting to be fucked, I could only groan with reckless abandon.

"With more feeling," he said, looking at his half submerged cock.

"Please. Now. Fuck me." I reached forward, pushed up his long sleeved polo shirt and brushed his silky happy trail with the back of my fingers.

"Mmm…shit yes…take it all," he snarled and thrust hard. At first, he jabbed me three or four times. Hard, fast…to the hilt. Then he relaxes his rhythm and held the base of the condom to flow into a smooth fuck rhythm. My fingers played with my swollen clit and my pussy around his cock at the peak. As my orgasm neared, I clench my pelvic floor until he groaned.

"Jesus…Fuck!" I yelped. My grip on his hips tightened.

He kept on. His cock ploughed into my cunt as I milked him with my pussy. I momentarily closed my eyes and caught my breath. When I returned to the cool tiled world around me, his cock slammed into me repeatedly.

"Fuck…you want to keep on fucking me…" I swallowed, bearing down.

He slowed. "Such a hot fucking pussy. How could I not want to…"

"Come for me…" I hoarsely said.

Groaning, he frowned and gritted his teeth, "O-Open wider…I…need…to fuck you deeper." Needing is hotter than wanting.

With my cunt sodden beyond belief, I gave him a wide berth. I raised my legs high enough so he could grip me from the backs of my thighs. Then he slammed against me and emptied his hot load, before he pulled out and elegantly unrolled the rubber sheath off his half flaccid cock. I appraised the entire picture. I retrieved my tights, pulled them upward and felt my fingernail penetrate the nylon.

"Shit," I muttered. "My last pair."

I don't like talking after fucking. It's difficult to find the right thing to say. Even saying thank you feels lame.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Ah…Um…"

"I know it's not sexy genie," he turned with a grin. "Anyway, I'd thank you but it's not like you've served me French fries."

"I don't want to…I can't…I don't know." My head was awash with buzzing post coital chemicals. This and I was unable to recall what I had named myself during our chats. Although we played the stranger game, we were chat friends for months.

"You don't know your name? My real name is Nate. Short for Nathan," he finally said.

"Nice to meet you."

He smiled. "Sure is…Very nice. Fucking nice. We can always meet up again."

My cheeks blazed. "I d-don't know. I don't always make it to the city."

"You made it to orgasm. I enjoyed that…you did too," He dropped a card on my lap. So he finally trusted me enough to hand me his work details."I hope you call," he said, winking.

"I did…enjoy it," I nodded. I revelled in the fuck.  I'd love to enjoy more and I'm fucking married. What the fuck am I doing? A second inner voice rapidly responds with, ‘But you fucking liked like didn't you?'

The first thing I did when I arrived home, after forcefully wiping the grin off my face, was to step into the shower. Paul called through the living room, where the television blazed.

In the shower, I used my loofah brush to scrub away every part of Nate and not through any sense of regret or violation. Smell is the first giveaway, and I can't explain Nate away like a long lost lover from high school. I'd left the house in the morning, returned mid-afternoon a well-fucked woman. Sex has a distinct fragrance, but my skin receptors already locked Nate to my memory. I wouldn't forget his particular fit within my pussy any time soon.

"Hon?"

"In the shower."

Paul stood behind the shower cubicle, obeying the glass boundary. That's was his problem. Obedience. Despite my efforts, he didn't take to sexual spontaneity.

"Where'd you go? I called you at home."

"You didn't call on my mobile phone," I said, picturing his pursed lips.

"Um, no I didn't."

"Well…I thought I'd go for a ride to the city."

"Just like that?"

Thank goodness for the steamed glass barrier, "J-Just like that."

"Your mum called. She wanted to know if we could make it for dinner. I told her you could."

I stopped scouring my upper thighs, "What about you?"

"Poker game with the boys. Didn't I tell you?"

I shrugged. The more pertinent question was whether I had cared enough to remember.

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