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After living in Edinburgh for four years, I was finally home in Australia. It had been a wild few years; years abroad that I would cherish. I had enjoyed more than my share of action, mostly one-night stands when on weekend back-packing trips to various European destinations. The whole experience had been liberating and fulfilling, emotionally and… well, physically.
But back at home things were significantly different. I found myself falling quickly into a major ‘rut’. Most of my formally single girlfriends were now engaged or married. Some faster movers even had started families. I was still included in everything, but gone were the days of having faithful wing-women to go out with. My social life were now daytime, family-friendly affairs, which were fun – don’t get me wrong – but I missed having at least one single close girlfriend to go out with; a flirting partner, a partner in crime.
I was feeling quite depressed about the situation. It wasn’t that I was envious of all of the relationships around me. Sure, I enjoyed the idea of finding ‘The One’, and was certainly not opposed to finding someone nice to settle down with. But I was not pining for it. I was still happy to enjoy all the things Single Life has to offer a girl.
However, unfortunately, with girlfriends who were increasingly unwilling (or unable) to join me on nights out, I was struggling to fulfill these thrilling Single Life offerings. I knew I could go to bars on my own. In fact, during my Travelling Days I had often hit up bars, pubs and parties on my own, quickly meeting all types of exciting people. But for some reason, silly as it may seem, I lacked the confidence to do this in my home city.
Finally, after a few months of solo nights in drinking wine and watching boxset marathons (don’t get me wrong – this is a fantastic leisure pursuit, in moderation!), I decided to ‘get out there’. I had enjoyed a lot of male attention during my Travelling Days and I had grown somewhat accustomed to having regular sex. The drought was starting to get extremely difficult to tolerate. I was finding myself getting increasingly horny and my porn viewing was beginning to get a bit out of hand. My browsing history was filthy, the say the very least!
So what does any modern single girl who wants to meet men do these days? She heads to one particular online dating app.
One night, glass of wine in hand, I created an app account. The whole concept appeared quite shallow to me, but also a bit of harmless fun. I can’t deny it was a bit of an ego-booster. I quickly became enthralled in chatting to random guys, some seemingly nice dudes, some creeps. Some seemed content with just a chat, some wanted to meet up almost immediately, and some outright asked if I wanted to fuck.
I had no intentions of meeting anyone any time soon. I just enjoyed the harmless flirtatious conversations. A few times the text turned quite dirty and I found myself exchanging rather intimate details with these random guys. One night, after I came home from a work function a little tipsy, I exchanged mobile numbers with this guy who had openly told me he was married, and we had verbally graphic phone sex. It was surreal. Surreal and intensely hot. I had furiously fingered myself while he wanked, and we talked each other to mutual orgasm. The next morning I felt quite uncomfortable and guilty about the episode. Guilty because I had enjoyed it so much. I had enjoyed the thrill of getting off a taken man. I had listened to the sounds of him grunting as he beat off to my voice. I promptly blocked him to avoid any further, and possibly more devious, temptation.
After a couple of weeks of this kind of fun, I agreed to a few dates. My girlfriends encouraged me enthusiastically… I think they wanted to enjoy the single life adventures vicariously through me. I spent a couple of weekends meeting up with men from online. Coffee, dinners, drinks, nothing more. I have to admit, although nothing progressed with any of them, I had a great time just getting out and enjoying different people’s company. A few tried to take me home with them, and although I was very tempted at least twice, I decided against it.
Then I met up with Brad. My inhibitions were shot.
Brad was 38 year old. A freshly divorced father of three. And there was something about him that made my pussy ache. I am not sure what it was, nothing I could pinpoint, but he was unlike the others. I wanted to fuck him the second I saw him in the flesh. I wanted him to screw me silly, to do anything he pleased. And I could tell, increasingly so throughout the night, that he felt much the same.
We went to a bar, nothing fancy, just a regular bar. He was friendly and held an awesome conversation. I was entranced by him. He was a big guy. Not overweight, but just a large build. He had dark hair, was unshaven… a real, rugged man. He had a rough, raw edge to him, but seemed quite sweet too.
A few drinks into the night and we were sitting very close to each other in the corner booth we had conveniently chosen. He had his hand on my thigh and when he spoke Zonguldak Escort I could feel his warm breath on my neck. His mere presence was causing my body to tingle, especially between my legs. I had squirmed a few times, my cunt throbbing. I had to subtly grind myself into the chair, desperately trying to control myself. I was positive that he has noticed; the slight smirk on his face suggested he was well aware of the aroused state he was putting me in.
“It’s getting quite late,” he said in a breathy whisper. I looked at my watch but didn’t really see the time. I was too overwhelmed with how much I wanted to see this man naked, how much I would be willing to let have his way with me.
“Uh, yes…” I said in weak response. He continued to hold his sexy smirk. He knew he was having an effect on me. He knew that and was starting to play with it. Bastard.
This only aroused me more.
He ran a finger down my cheek and said in a husky voice, “Let’s go. Now.”
He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. My knees felt weak as I followed him out of the bar. I wondered – with a little thrill – if other bar patrons knew what we were off to do to each other. It had to be darn obvious! Girl and guy meet in bar, clearly for the first time. Girl and guy get increasingly closer throughout the night. Girl and guy leave bar, hurriedly, girl flushed in the face, hot and practically panting with anticipation.
He hailed a taxi and we hopped in the back. We were still holding hands, but that was all. I desperately wanted him to touch me, anywhere. Everywhere. But I sat there frozen, feeling my pussy muscles contracting in excitement. I could tell by his ragged breathing that he was getting increasingly excited too.
The thrill of fucking a stranger is like no other. The idea that you and this other person want each other so desperately that you are willing to skip all niceties and just screw… it is always enough to get me soaking wet before they even touch me! I have never considered myself a slut; I have always just been a woman who loves sex and comfortable in myself to seek the satisfaction I crave.
I wanted this man. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to come for him. I wanted to make him cum in a way that would never allow him forget me.
We arrived at his place and he threw a fifty at the driver, not bothering to wait for his change. We practically leapt out of the car and made our way quickly to his front door. I tried to take in the appearance of his house, but I couldn’t concentrate. I had only one thing on my mind. I followed him inside like a desperate puppydog and he closed the door behind me. I stood there, suddenly very shy in his hyper-masculine presence, and chewed my lip nervously. He stood towering in front of me; tall and oozing sexuality, opening running his eyes over my body. Before I could question why he was looking at me with such a sly grin, he closed the gap between us, pushing me back against the door. Hard. Passionately.
Our lips met and we kissed. Hot, passionate, desperate. Hungry. With his hands on my hips, he had me pinned against the door. The kiss seemed to last forever, occasionally breaking for a breath, in which he would let out a low, sexy growl and then go back for more. I felt my knees weakening and was thankful for his stronghold on my body. He clearly knew what he was doing and I was happy to follow his lead. This man knew how to seduce me. I was putty in his hands.
He pulled back slightly, withdrawing from the kiss, and looked down again at my body. Keeping one hand firmly on my hip, not allowing me to move, he ran his other hand across my stomach, sliding under my top. I gasped as he touched my bare skin, bucking slightly as my arousal increased even more. He continued to stare down at me, the intensity in his gaze never relenting, as he ran his hand up and up. I was panting slightly as his hand explored my stomach. He was breathing deeply, indicating his own excitement. I loved how he looked at me, his face expressing the fact that he was just as into the night as I was.
He stopped abruptly and I groaned in protest. With a chuckle at my disappointment, he took the bottom hem of my tank top in both hands and peeled it up over my head. I eagerly raised my arms to assist in the process. He grunted with approval when he saw my breasts, encased in a black lacy bra.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, probably more to himself than me.
He proceeded to unclip my bra, tossing it to the floor. My body stiffened in anticipation as he lowered his head and wrapped his hungry mouth around my left nipple. I sharply inhaled, as a jolt of pleasure shot from my cunt. I grabbed him by his shirt to steady myself as I felt intense spasms. He was flicking his tongue around my nipple, sucking slightly, his beard stubble rough against my softness. Then he moved to my right breast and gave it equal attention. I writhed against him, my hips bucking without my initial realisation. My body was reacting of its own accord, my head spinning as he continued to devote his entire attention Zonguldak Escort Bayan to my heaving breasts. My breasts have always been a favourite physical feature of myself, and men tended to enthusiastically agree. When I was in my early 20s they were quite large – at least DDs – but when my days of living wild and partying had subsided and I became fitter, they decreased to a still-sizeable C. Whatever size they were, whoever was playing with them seemed overly contented.
He detached from my nipple and kissed me again, pressing himself into me. I groaned into his mouth, as I felt his hard bulge push hard against my stomach. I tried to grab at it, wanting to take charge just a little, but he pushed my hand away. He grabbed both of my wrists and pushed them against the door, above my head. I knew he wanted to enjoy how this positioning of my arms made my tits perk up even more. Sure enough, he relatched onto them, sucking each nipple, kissing my breasts, licking, kissing… My moans increased in volume as he worked on my tits, knowing exactly how to handle them.
I started to thrash a little, trying to escape his firm grip, wanting to touch him, grab at him. He was strong, and my efforts were futile. I cursed him in my head and vowed I would try to get back at him later. Make him pay for causing such frustration.
Suddenly, he released his grip. My arms fell to their sides and he stepped back. His mouth curled into grin that suggested he was not yet finished with me. I stood there, topless, modest-yet-sexy skirt hitched up my bare thighs a little, my heels still on. He just stared at me, all of me. My eyes fell to the bulge in his jeans. I think my mouth parted a little, as if hungry for what was behind the fabric of his jeans.
He held his hand out and I reached forward, taking it instantly. He led me up the hallway in silence, up some stairs and into a dark room – which I guessed was his bedroom. He flicked a light on. It was a lamp, and it threw off a dim light. Enough to see each other and carry out exactly what we both intended to do to the other.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered. His tone was gentle, yet commanding, and it contributed to the growing ache between my thighs. His assertiveness caused a deep ache inside me.
I quickly slid back on his bed – a luxurious, king size – and leant back, propping myself up on my elbows. I looked up at him expectantly, silently pleading with him to touch me. He climbed between my legs, and in one smooth movement, his beautiful big hands pushing my skirt up further until it was all bunched above my hips. I spread my thighs slightly, and he ran both hands up them, stopping short of the fabric of my lacy underwear. He was on his elbows now, leaning down, his hot breath on my skin sending a visible shudder of pleasure through me. He slowly pushed the wet lace of my panties aside and gave me a quick, hard, lusty glance before running his tongue along the opening of my pussy. I cried out, a little more loudly than intended, and slipped backwards onto my back. I could hear him laughing quietly at my dramatic, involuntary reaction, but then promptly he got to work. This man wasted no time!
His tongue ran along the length of my pussy a few times, incredibly slowly, and then – without warning – he thrust it into me. I felt my hips buck against his face as he started tongue-fucking me.
“Fuck!” I cried out, grabbing his hair and grinding myself hard against his face. “Oh fuck! Oh, fucking shit!” I wailed.
I couldn’t even work out what he was doing down there with his mouth! He had my back arching and my body heaving and me letting out a string of curse words in ecstasy. I was sent into a state of pure and dizzying bliss. My body was welcoming him, responding to him, letting him know that I was his tonight. My body was telling him that I was willing – incredibly willing – and I had no reservations at all.
“You taste amazing, fucking delicious” he said, looking up at me from between my thighs. I propped myself back up on my elbows to watch him. “Damn amazing,” he added. And with that, and no warning (again!), he slid a big finger deep inside me. I raised my hips, groaning, a deep groan that didn’t even sound like me. I was a woman possessed.
He pulled it out and then slid it back in, with another finger. His fingers were quite thick so just two were enough to fill me, stretch me… I could feel my pussy muscles tighten on them as he worked in and out, harder, deeper. I was sure I could hear him grunting with each thrust inside me. He held an intense expression on his face, clearing concentrating on getting me off. I could hear the wetness of my cunt, the slick sound of my willingness.
He bent his head and began licking my clit again, two fingers stuffed deep inside me. I was gripping the bed covers and squirming in sheer delight. As he expertly sucked my clit and eased his thick fingers in and out, in and out of my cunt, I suddenly realised I was building to an orgasm. My body tensed up and he immediately noticed. He wedged a hand underneath me, under my Escort Zonguldak butt, and used this to keep me still. I desperately tried to buck against his face, but he held me in a tight position, unable to react to his pleasuring. This drove me insane and sent me over the edge.
“I think I’m going to come,” I whispered, suddenly somewhat shy, despite how intimate we were. He stopped using his tongue and dedicated himself to fingering me. I watched as he worked his whole arm, pumping his fingers inside me, using his spare hand to rub my aching clit.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh, oh!” I wailed as I felt my muscles clench around his fingers. I could legs begin to tremble, to shake violently, uncontrollably… He looked up at me with such hunger in his dark eyes, such raw hunger, that it sent me straight hurtling to my climax. I started coming so forcefully that I am pretty sure I screamed. Looking back I am not sure, as I was such a state, but I vaguely remember crying out rather loudly as the orgasm ripped through me.
He knew exactly how to touch me as I came, the right spot rubbed at the right speed. I am positive my climax lasted at least two minutes, a considerably long time for me, especially through non-penetration pleasuring.
I could hear my wetness as he pulled his fingers out. He climbed up and over me, lying beside me. He was panting, his chest heaving with his own exertion. I lay there, coming down slowly from my high, in a state of minor shock that he had managed to get me off before we had even fucked. I hadn’t even seen his cock!
“Are you okay?” he asked after a few moments of silence. Our breathing was nearing normal again. I rolled my head to him and smiled.
“Yeah, pretty good,” I responded. “That was… amazing.”
“You have no idea how fucking hot that was, watching you get off like that,” he said, stroking my breasts absentmindedly. I glanced down and noticed he was still fully clothed. Although I had just had an intense orgasm (and usually one per hook-up was a pretty darn good outcome!), I could feel that I wasn’t quite finished. I wanted more of him. The lust had not subsided, even slightly. In fact, the finger-fucking he had just given me only made me hornier for this gorgeous man.
I sat up and rested back on my knees, naked, except my rolled up skirt and the heels that I had forgotten I was wearing. He watched me as I undid his shirt. Once undone, he eased himself up a little so that I could pull it off completely. He was more ripped than I had anticipated. He wasn’t gym-buff though. Rather, he had those natural muscles you’d expect to see on a man who did a lot of physical labour. To me, this was much sexier. My cunt clenched in agreement! Damn, my pussy really was in charge of my actiond tonight…
I ran my hands over his tight chest and down to his belt buckle. His breathing was becoming more ragged as I fumbled with his belt. I whimpered in frustration,desperate to reach him. Despite his distracting chuckles at my clumsiness, I managed to undo it and pulled it out (with a little assistance). Then I eased his jeans down, all the while eying off the enormous bulge in his pants. My ultimate goal tonight…
I had him nearly-naked now. He lay before me in just his jocks, a bold erection hiding, waiting impatiently for me to release it. He grunted loudly and thrust his hips upwards as I slid my hand down the front of his jocks, grabbing him in my hand.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He was massive. My hand struggled to get a full grip on him.
I’m not even a girl who overly cares about size (it’s how a man USES his cock that counts!). But this was an incredibly pleasant surprise. My cunt wholeheartedly agreed – my muscles clenched repeatedly in excitement. I think I must have stayed frozen for a full minute at least, until my thoughts about his marvellous dick were interrupted by his voice.
“Uh… are you okay?” he asked, tracing his finger lightly down my arm.
I nodded quickly. “Uh, yes. Yes. Just… you’re really fucking huge. I’m just…”
I trailed off and looked at him. He was giving me that damn smirk again. He knew he was huge. He knew that I was just getting my head around the idea of fucking his massive cock. His smirk suggested that this wasn’t a completely new experience for him, seeing a girl in a state of shock over the discovery of his sheer size.
I took a deep breath and eased him out of his jocks, removing them completely so that I had him entirely naked. I was entranced.
There he was. Lying naked before me, enormous, perfect, hard dick pointing in the air, waiting for ME… I crawled between his legs and slowly bent down, my tongue flicking around the head of his cock, perhaps a little timidly. I could taste his pre-cum. And this spurred me on.
I licked around the head, running my tongue around its full circumference, sucking the pre-cum out as it trickled from the tip. I licked some of his cock juice from my lips and looked up at him. He was staring at me, his eyes slightly fierce, obviously enjoying his view immensely. I turned my attention back to my task and wrapped my lips around the top, running my tongue around, sucking slightly. He let out a growl and bucked his hips up, hard, his cock pushing a little deeper into my open mouth. I pulled back, determined to stay in control. It was my turn now to be in control. His cock was MINE tonight.
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