True Sex Stories: 100 Years

A bathroom rendezvous leaves her with exactly what she wants.

I've been in this mood, this angsty near foul–my classic smile forced kind of mood. My mind hung up on unattainable non-tangible men, that are not mine to be hung up on and never will be.

I need some new meat to shake things up, to move me, chase me, want me, use me.

The moment he walked through the door I knew instantly I had to have his cock in my mouth. All of sudden my smile was back and mixed with a hint of the devil. At the bar I tilted back in my chair looking beyond my friend to him, making it quite clear what a wanted with one glance and a lift of the brow. Watching him order his drink, his quite demeanor, the way his wild man salt and pepper hair hung and fell, his shy sly smile sent me over the top.

When he got up from the bar and started heading for the jukebox my cunt nearly melted to the bar stool, he looked too good in those jeans, loose and tight, I could see the heaviness of his cock, damn I swear I could smell him. Not overly blatant, but knowingly I followed him with my eyes as he walked passed us. When he was close enough I felt his eyes on me. I knew.

Within moments I too rose from my spot and headed toward the back of the bar to the bathroom–our eyes meeting at our passing, long enough for me to let him know I was a needy slut and he should come give me what I need–all with just a glance.

In the bathroom, I fixed, shifted pieces and parts, I looked at my mouth in the mirror almost second guessing myself.
Was imagining the whole interaction.
Slowly the door crept open. He stood close behind me looking at my face in the mirror and I at at his, and he whispered,
" what do you want?"
Before I could speak a word his hand was locked around the back my hair tugging, elongating my neck–it  was a gentle forcefulness. The move made my mouth drop open instantly–speaking volumes about my need for cock, without a word uttered.

In my ear–
"slut."

Pulling harder my head connecting to his shoulder and my body to his, my ass to his firming cock–again he whispers,
"what do you want?"

The softest, faintest, crackling of voice replies….  "cock"

His free hand slides over my body– a quick learn, no hesitation, my skirt has been hiked, I can feel my ass on his jeans, I can feel his hand on my tits–he lets out a sigh, that same sigh I have heard many times before when men get to my tits. Almost like a child. Like for the moment he has found his way home.

There is an exhale of our bodies and everything, for the moment, is just right. His hand reaches my mouth, and fingers past my lips seeking the wet warmth as I show you what I can do, what I want to do. While my mouth sucks on your fingers I feel your cock go from stiffening to rock hard. Eagerly I oblige the cock, feeling its strain, its girth stuck behind denim. My hands unbutton, he was not wearing any underwear– I know he is dripping for me, I could smell it.

"if you keep sucking my fingers like that, I might just cum and you wont get any of this cock."

My cunt throbbed in pain at the idea of that.

"Then give me some," I could hear the desperation in my voice.

With his grasp still tangled in my hair he guided me to face him. My hands going right for his dick, eye to eye, hands to cock. I love the feel of hard flesh in my hands, the way your balls tighten up, the way your eyes slit and roll, the way my fingers dip into the clear gloss making your tip all shiny.

To my knees I drop or he pulls me there–but that is just a move, a motion– because my mind with my lips following dropped to your dick long ago.

From my position I look up at you, your hair has fallen across your features and I get the feeling I have known you for a hundred years, and know I will never see you again. This will be the first, last and only time I get to taste you.

I bring my face in and breath you in as deep as I can, finally pulling your trunk out from behind the jeans–admiring the sturdy sleek dripping curve that is about to be realized, then proceed to slowly devour every inch of you.

My panties are soaked, my cunt fat, and my mouth full of cock. I can hear the bar, the music, the smell of beer, wood, and cock and I suck, lick, love your dick with my mouth.

"Will you fuck me, will you?"

I wanted to taste me on you, just a few strokes in me–I wanted to taste us, and I wanted to feel you in me. My hands never leaving cock, I rise, turning, bending half, my ass up, open, pussy soaked, ready.

"Please."

You barely move the panties aside, and it doesn't even matter, my hole is slick, the fabric seems to dissolve when your rub your cock into me. My slit opens, you tease–then you stab me. Three solid pounds. My pussy is dripping down my open legs.

"Finish."

This time with a deliberateness, you pull me back to my knees,

"Finish me."

I fuck you with my mouth and you fuck me with your cock. My pussy mixed with you making a tart musk. It is about to happen, like stone, like the marble of statues is how turgid you got and balls like two stones. When you come it shot out splashing my chin and down my throat, in my hair–I could actually hear it blast from your cock.

Still hard while my tongue cleans the remainders of cum. Your hand that has never seemed to leave my hair pulls me up. I deep kiss to my lips, my breath full of cum.

"Is that what you wanted?"

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