1) Friday, friends and I went barhopping in Covent Garden. I ended the night in the apartment of a mid-20s South American guy who studies at the London School of Economics.
We didn't make it to his bedroom before getting started. He reached into my short puffy skirt while we made out. His fingers stroked the lips of my cunt through the underwear. He was naked first, and he had me straddle his lap. It took him several tries to release the clasp on my bra, but once he did, he fed on my breasts. I rode his erection through sheer black bikini panties.
He was reluctant to wear a condom, but I insisted. We fucked in several positions. I laid on my back, knees in the air, shins horizontal. The impact of the thighs and cock transferred his momentum to me and made my body inch upward. The leather of the sofa stuck to my skin. Knees on either side of his hips, I leapfrogged on top of his erection. My fingers played at the clit with my muscles taut about the shaft within. I knelt clutching the high sofa back as he pummeled me from behind. First he held me by the thighs to open me up, then he held me by the breasts to bring me back. Both of us came this way.
Luis didn't like to be sucked and wasn't one for eating pussy either. In the bedroom, it was more of the same: competent fucking and nothing else.
2) After orchestra rehearsal, I went to a party that one of the violinists was having. I hit it off with a friend of the host and departed the festivities around midnight.
We took the bus back to my apartment and secreted ourselves in the bedroom. My roommate fucked her fiancé in the next room. We heard them. They heard us. The bed banged rhythmically against the wall.
Between our two rounds of fucking, I masturbated myself with an empty beer bottle. I wet the rim and pressed it against the lips of my pussy. The neck of the bottle dropped in almost at once. I held the thick cylinder below the neck and spun the bottle within myself. (I have often remarked what a pity it is that the human penis doesn't rotate.)
Tony sunk to his knees on one side of the bed and watched me up close. His fingers touched over the clitoris and the lips where they flared around the glass.
Using both hands to clutch the bottom of the bottle, I wielded the vessel like a dildo and fucked myself with it hard. I harbor the private suspicion that beer bottles are designed with alternate usage in mind. They are resilient objects.
Unfortunately, Leffe Brune was my lone orgasm of the night.
Republished with permission from Leah Lays London. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.