The knock came late with an urgency that scared me from my stoned out slumber.
“Who is it?”
Nothing, no response. I knew who it was. I could hear his nervous hands fumbling with the screen door. Almost simultaneously his fingers clasped the doorknob as I twisted the lock to open pushing the door open, perhaps more abruptly than you anticipated. I could see the agitation, revulsion and want in every part of your being.

I spent my weekend, hell a week, doing just that, worshiping like a cock sucking devotee. Most of of my time spent with my mouth turning him from soft to hard, edging him close, then backing off. When his cock was not passing my lips, I was wishing it was–all I could think of was tasting his come slide down my throat, splashing across my tongue and making a mess of my promiscuous slut girl face. I almost, almost, had little concern for my own gratification, his cock seemed gratification enough. Lucky me though–he took care of me just fine.

There are moments with this man, when time comes to a stop–or when it spans beyond what I know as time. For the most part I am an eye closer or at least they drop to slits when fucking, and especially when getting close to cumming–but with him it is different. When my head tilts back my eyes are still on his and when his cock enters me our eyes lock and I can see this barely there strand–silver and clear that shimmers slightly in the flicker of the light– that connects from his retina to mine. The power of it all is really quite strange, wonderful and overwhelming.

And yet while I feel this insane closeness and connection to this man, it also seems like he will only be a moment. I think he is a bird. Not able to resist flight, but too habitual to fly off forever into a life with me. So…while I feel strongly about this man, I have been trying to keep in mind my New Year’s vow– to “let it be.” To let myself enjoy while I can, to love him when I can, freely and to accept him and his cock as a rare gift–that was perhaps not supposed to be given to me at this this time, or even not at, but somehow a rift in nature made the exception possible.

Languidly playing on my bed, rubbing, touching, looking, attempting to find some form of understanding–that we will never understand anyway, we talk causally and free.

Lackadaisically the words roll out of my mouth, “Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass?”

“No, I’ve tried, but it never did work. A few women said sure fuck me in the ass, but when it came right down to it…the pain was too much, my cock was too big.”

I thought out loud, “I would never say you could fuck me in the ass, not with that cock.”

We laughed and played some more.  I guess a seed had been planted and I was now thinking about my ass, “Why don’t you slip a finger in my ass.”

Drawing his finger to my mouth to coat it with spit then back down he slowly slid it into my ass, as he did so I could feel my pussy opening, breathing, wanting more. I love how my cunt feels when a finger or more is filling my ass. It is not the sensation I feel in my ass, but the sensation that my pussy feels from something being in my ass.

Soon I am slow grinding on his finger, and my fingers and his slip around my ever slicking pussy, my clit grows firm and tall, and I want more. Between my thighs he stands, I reach for his hard cock, and guide it to my pussy, sliding it around in the folds of fat flesh, coating it with me, then I slide it in and we fuck for a bit, while he continues working his finger my ass. I could’ve come like that, but I wanted more. I began to guide his pussy covered cock to my tight ass hole, first the head.

“Slow,” the words push out in a heavy breath, and we switch gears into slow motion and our eyes lock, between breaths of pain and lust,  his cock begins to fill me, and my greedy pussy is loving it, growing, blooming, wanting more and more.

It took time, the connection was strong, it made it possible for his big cock to fill my tight ass. Everything worked, soon his cock was fully inside me, and soon after that I was thoroughly enjoying riding his cock, bucking my ass into him.

My pussy was electric, on fire, full and slicked out. It always astounds me when it gets like that. I could feel my come approaching, I could see his come taking over his body.

“I wanna come, baby, oh can I cum, cum with me.”  I probably mumbled some lovely filth about filling my ass with cum.

And we fucked and bucked into each others bodies, our eyes penetrating, my ass full and pussy in sever fluctuation–breathing on her own, alive and wet and full of want.

In a rare moment we come simultaneously, locked into each other, that strand connecting our eyes, the connection of cock to ass, he filling me and me open to all of it.

Well the bullshit side of my tree seems to be bearing an overabundance of shit fruit since the onset of 2011, nothing life crushing– just simple annoying costly bullshit. It’s all made me just an angsty bundle of nerves, in which there was only one cure. Cock.

Well, not just cock, but I wanted–no needed– to come at the hands of another. I needed the hands and mouth of a man devouring my cunt, I needed to devour some cock, I needed to just forget the bullshit branch of life for a few hours.

I get into this mood often, but do not always act on it–or at least not as much as I used to, but the feeling was too overwhelming for me to ignore.

There were drinks, there was an incredibly cooked meal–which lead to a whole lot of sucking and fucking. It is not always easy for me to let myself just go, to let someone I’ve only emailed and briefly met take me, to pass the threshold of letting go. To give over to orgasm at the hands of a stranger is not always something I can do. However; I came in with little expectations, just simply that if I felt a comfort enough to fuck this man I was going to do just that. I would let myself have this, let myself go, be free to cum at the hands of this man who means nothing to me other than the flesh, fingers and mouth that was going to make me come and I would reciprocate and treat his cock like it was the cock I really loved.

While rolling around this mans room, I could not help thinking about the men I actually have emotional connection to–while I attempt to make a connection with this guy, I am fully aware we are nothing but disconnected. I have to be disconnected to have sex like this and to allow myself to cum, and cum, and cum with a man I have no feeling for.

The sex was fun! I allowed myself have fun. I let him suck and lick my wet little pussy, his fingers filling and fucking me, I became lost as I bucked into his hand. As his fingers fucked me harder I could feel it happening, the creamy liquid dripping around his hand, into the crevices of my pussy and in between my ass cheeks. He certainly held some effective methods to make me cum, which I did all over his bed. I am not really squirter, really I’m not, at least not usually, especially with a near completely stranger.

That sort of cum makes me want to cry, it is a release of so much–particularly with the weeks I have been having. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t– I held back. It would have felt good, but the connection for such behavior was not there. I turned on my own emotion and became a slut, a whore. I devoured his cock with my mouth and with my pussy-I licked and swallowed his dick after he buried in my slit, tasting me off of him. I made him rock hard, bouncing on his cock like crazy, I let my emotion get stifled by cock.

His cock was fun to service though. Never before have I had the request to bite down.
“Bite? Really?”
“ Yes, bite,” he pleaded with a growl.
He liked to have his cock bitten. It was strange, but then I got into it. It definitely felt like I was biting into a sausage with a real tough skin, but hot damn it sure did make his cock solid and left me free to grasp and grab him with all my might, which I did. I like a dick I can grab onto firmly as edge him closer and closer to cumming. My mouth and hands slid all over his solid trunk, I filled my mouth with his balls, I let him feed me his cock, to choke me a little, to let my eyes water.  I sucked him off like the pro I can be.

We had a nice long romp, I informed him early on– I would need to cum three times before he did. I came four times. Throughout the romp I brought this man close to cumming several times, then backed off. Repeat. Being spent from all that orgasm release, laying to his side, I slid his cock into my mouth one last time–bringing him from soft to hard–it was time. I would not ride his cock again, I cannot be filled with cum and all of its potentiality so I wanted to stroke and suck him until I could watch his cum hit me in the face and onto my waiting tongue.

Perhaps it was all the edging, bringing him so close, but not ever over, that made his cum shoot straight past my eager slut tongue up to his chest, across his shoulder and to pillow behind his head.

With the cum splatter, it was all over. Dipping my finger into a little pool of cum, I tasted him, then rose to dress. As I walked down his stairway towards my car, I never looked back. I felt like a hooker that didn’t get paid. Disconnected.

Standing in front of my door like awkward kids waiting for our first kiss, I am determined to get you inside, to take whatever this is to the next level. Unlocking the door, you lean in for your ever steady kiss on the cheek and goodbye. All sorts of one liners, sultry come-ons run through my mind as I think of way s to get you inside, but only one lonely shaking word stammers from my lips as I pull you by the hand through my door.

“Stay.”

Shutting the city out we are in my world, my refuge and the outside no longer exists–the fuck ups and degenerates that make up my day at the public library fade away and we stand there looking at each other, still in our coats and hats, not knowing what to do next. Can friends fuck? I put your arms around my waist and look up, you are quite taller than me–it’s nice, the nervousness is electric and we kiss– simple, warm and wet. Those full lips I have  spent hours day dreaming about are finally kissing mine. It is all very innocent, the sweetest of kisses I’ve had in a long time. The kind of kiss that makes you feel young and hopeful of what’s to come.

Coats drop to the floor as we stumble through the living room to my bedroom shedding articles of clothing along the way. We fall to the bed partially clothed and we just lay there, feeling the other, exploring the lengths of our bodies, our limbs tangling, our lips connecting and disconnecting, smiling the whole time–laughing at our child like behavior or emotion I am not sure which.

I can feel the strength of your body resonating from your solid thighs, your pants still on as my hands explore what the running does to you. My hand finally to your cock, feeling the stiffness through the denim, feeling how hard I made you and happy knowing from feel–how big your cock really is. With my thumb and fingers I massage the tip  until a drop of pre cum absorbs through your pants. The moment I feel that moisture I’m hungry. I take over, my hands and mouth take over, getting your pants half down, my mouth moves from your lips to your cock. Licking at that sweet and salty mix makes me forget everything except for the thoughts of pleasing you with all I have, for having all of you in me.

The taste of you fills my mouth like sweetest of pleasures, the best drinks I ever tasted, your smile made me high and suck you even more. Between your thighs I fuck you with my lips, tongue and mouth. I wanted to taste your cum.

But you had something a bit different in mind…

Santa Baby–bring me some cock NOW!

I have been crazy writing and not one word about getting fucked–though I have not getting fucked to write about anyway. Of course–I always take care of myself, but I have not even had the time to do myself properly either. All my cums have been fast, down and dirty, quickies with the most powerful iconic utilitarian vibrator I own.

I have been surprised at how wet and sloppy my pussy has been getting. I think it is the build up, this lack of time has put me on a schedule of when I masturbate. So that by the time the 2 AM I need cum time rolled around each night my cunt was growling, had grown fat and would leak all over the chair. Perhaps I am in heat. Perhaps I need some meat. Perhaps somebody needs to come lick this mess up.

Of course I would love to do the same for you. It has been nearly two weeks since I had your cock in mouth. I certainly have been missing that feel of your thick branch being stroked by my hand–making the soft flesh turn to hardness for my mouth, for my cunt. There is just about nothing I wouldn’t do to feel you sliding into me, letting me ride you–covering that fat cock of yours in this wet messy pussy.

Get over her, now!

He met me at my place. I made him wait while I showered the library away. The water extra hot turned my skin pink. I wanted to stay in there forever, not knowing what I wanted to say to him. I know what he wanted, but what does he really want from me–and can I afford to give it to him. I’m quite sure he knows my weakness. Cock.  He knows I cannot resist his cock, the way it turns thick with just a look, the smell, the curve that stretches towards my lips.

There is fracture between us though–but of course the slut I am, let him in. I get this feeling, particularly when coming off the high of cock–the low side– that it is really is like the elation of drugs and the lows that come with them. I cannot resist–and I hate my cunt for its insatiable wantonness–I want it desperately, I want to be used, I want to feel, I want to be taken, I want it all to be erased.

We are awkward, we are not the same people we were before NYC, we fumbled with words, glance, smiles made uneasy, and touched tinged with the pain of being human. We are children, emotional children not knowing how to love or give without associating it with pain.

His body pinned me to the door, his weight holding me, sparking a charge to my cunt. The  struggle of our bodies longing to get close as possible to one another, it becomes a fight of limbs and clothing. The power between us is desperate and volatile. My clothing gets pulled, tugged and ripped at. Pushed to the ground, I finally feel what I want—the strength of a man–his cock throbbing against my body, his heaviness engulfs me.

His hand grabs my now fat flowing cunt, his fingers slipping into the sloppy folds of skin and wet pubic hair. His other hand wraps around my neck and clutches. In this moment the last weeks disappear and the loss I was feeling, the emptiness–is being filled. His body and cock have become ferocious, it is a willing rape. Because I had not had sex for a few weeks–I was tight–not use to the thrust of a cock. It hurt with each shove of his thickness into me, it is the brutal fuck I needed and wanted. The grunts, moans fill the air, yet it all seems remarkably quiet.

One hand surrounding my throat–breathing becoming a useless entity, his other hand still covered my face and eyes. Looking through the slits of his fingers I watch the shadows of light and dark as they dance across the ceiling and let my body be taken, let myself feel the pain of this man, taking mine and giving me his.

image by Aeric Meredith-Goujon

She was one who lived close to her skin—
As if she tasted with it. And I
Was there one night within her sphere. So thin
The distance was between us strangers—why?
We felt it all at once; we needed it:
The sex was a devouring force that did
Not ever sate itself. Of cock and clit,
Of wetness, cum, and lips, of moans amid
The silent din of lust that fills the mind
And soaks with salty wetness every thought,
When every thrust and kiss becomes a find.
That cauldron of our sex—it was so hot
We thought we’d suck and fuck ourselves to Hell.
Somehow our sex-spree stopped. It’s just as well.

Sonnet by G.D. Rune, copyright applies. Thank you for allowing me to publish it here.

M5FE3RA8UK5T

During breaks between fucking, we play, laugh talk– but your hard glossed cock is always bouncing somewhere near my pussy. It is my favorite time to grab your shaft with a nice grip (I like a cock I can grab with my firm handshake). I cannot resist your round head this close to my lips, my pussy open from being fucked–with my grip I rub the head into me. You drip. Rubbing your cock all over my slit making the precum pour in those little silver strands I love so much.

We lay side my side your fingers and my fingers between my pages, getting me wet. I feel my self slipping into that other plane.

“put your fingers inside of me.”

Slowly you hook up, hitting the spot, my fingers work my clit and full fat lips. I am wet. The feeling of I want to cum washes over me and I take control. My hand on top of yours, your hand and fingers becomes mine, I finger fuck myself with your hand, imaging it is your cock.

Closer and closer to the edge I rock my cunt on your hand devouring it, the fist portion rubbing into my puffed out cunt. I can feel it consuming me, the fire that starts at my toes and rises slow and low over my entire body.

“oooohh I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

Whenever I say words, I cum, it always brings me there.

Shoving your hand in deeper, pulling it in, clutching and un-clutching around your digits–I drive my self to edge and right over. With my Rocky Mountain girl growl I cum in hard thrust down onto your hand, ending in tense jerk and convulsion emanating from the core of my pussy.

Slowly you pull your fingers out of me and into my mouth. Creamy.

What a nice cum.

We stayed in a constant state of hard to soft , wet to dry and back again. Feeling your cock grow between my lips, turning you heavy to solid with my mouth became an enjoyable challenge. How many times over the span of a weekend could I make you hard?  I love the way your soft quite dick became solid and rigid from the lick of my skilled tongue.

Long bouts of pounding fucking were followed by laughter, smiles and slow sucking and licking. For a weekend, I let myself go, I let myself be in love, and dream dreams I hadn’t remembered were dreams of mine.

We disappeared when fucking became rampant, and I mean rampant in the best possible of ways. Your hands clutching the flesh of my tits, pulling on my nipples, making me winch in pain–yet wet around your cock. Stretching the nipple then releasing. Your hands wrap around my throat–most often guided there by me–  your grip tightens  as I grind your root deeper and deeper into me. The way your cock plunges into me while your hand grips my throat makes me fuck you harder. Our eyes lock and we both gone, replaced by our other.

When your hand releases the grip from my neck it raises high into the air, with driving lust I await the strike to my cheek. It is sharp, shocking, then quickly the other side and back again. I lose count of how many blows came down. The sharpness quickly subsides to dull and stars swim lustful little strokes my head. It’s all too much you have to pull out of me to prevent you from filling my needy cunt with your sweet cum. The pain is so fierce, there is a fire ragging between my pussy, my mind and body are not working in the same plains of dimension. Your cock is a fire rod between my fat full pussy not inside, but throbbing between the pages of wet flesh.

The sensation of your cock sliding in my slit like this, hitting my sharpened clit is astounding, it makes me cum and cry and sing to the angels. Sliding my cunt up an down the length  of your shaft, my emotion and cum leak from every open hole, I am scared of the way I feel, the way your cock melts every bit of me. I have the longest slowest soaring high orgasm while gliding my lips all over your thickened meat.

I cannot comprehend the feeling from pain to the floating ecstasy I felt while hovering over you lost in your eyes and your cock.