Thresholds

I saw a lover today. I wore a dress with no panties. He picked me up and we went to his place, his hand stuffed under my skirt and expertly fondling my clit while driving through the city streets. I would start a sentence and not finish it when he made me breathless. It was the afternoon, and any passerby who looked in through the windows would have known exactly what we were up to: at a red light a tiny, middle-aged woman walked by—an old work acquaintance— and I'm pretty sure she knew. I begged him not to make me come in the car at the same time as I gyrated my hips against his hand, taking him into me and covering him in my juices.

We raced into the apartment. I pulled off his jeans in the threshold: we just managed to shut the (glass) door to my floor before I had him in my mouth; the head of his cock pressing against the back of my throat, with his scrotum in my left hand and my right braced against the door jamb. He leaned into the wall, pulled my hair, and pressed me further into his crotch. I pulled my dress off over my head and stuck two fingers in my pussy while I sucked him off. Both of his hands gripped the back of my head, and he pulled my hair and massaged my scalp. He pulled back, stooped down, and pressed his cock to my sternum between my tits, which I squeezed together with my forearms. He fucked my tits slowly, then quickly, and then it was his turn to ask not to come just yet.

We left for the bedroom: him holding up his jeans; me carrying my dress over my arm, naked except for knee-high boots. He told me to leave those on as pushed me onto the bed and thrust his face between my legs while holding my thighs to my chest. I lost my words after two minutes and dissolved into moans while my pussy throbbed.

My partner put on a condom, asked me to ride him, and to hold him down while I did it. It seems that although historically he didn't favor it, he's since come around to loving lady on top sex. I slid myself over his cock and pressed my torso to his while I pinned his arms over his head. My legs were extended with my feet pressing off of his for leverage.

"Fuck me harder, Margot."

I did. I sweated with effort on top of him, moaning and grunting in pleasure.

"Yes, that's a good slut."

I snarled and gyrated, hair in my face and my tits pressing against his chin. I cried out as I came.

"Get on your knees, Margot."

My body still hummed from my climax when he flipped me over. He slid into me easily: both hands were around my waist and he pulled me back onto his pelvis. I begged him to fuck my pussy as hard as he could, and he did. He called me his little whore, spanked and squeezed my ass, his cock hit my g spot with each stroke and I tightened around him. The sounds he made while he came made me shiver and sigh.

He relaxed on top of me for a moment, until I rolled over and he laid his head on my breast. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and with my free hand I combed my fingers through his hair. His bedroom has large windows that look out to nowhere and afternoon sunlight filtered in. He panted. He smells salty, warm, and a little bit of clean linen.

"I love to please you, Margot," he said.

I kissed his forehead.

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