“Sit back and get ready for blastoff,” I said, then continued to lick, suck, kiss, and stroke his shaft; starting at the base, then swirling around the top of his cock with the tip of my tongue; fondling his balls as I built my momentum.
I could feel the storm gathering, so I pulled my mouth from his meat, then squeezed it tight at the base and said, “Fill my mouthcunt with cum, so you can spend the rest of the night getting ready for me to come back and fuck you into a coma.”
Chris filled the room with an almost embarrassingly girlish cry, then fell back hard against the armchair as he shot his cum into my mouth in a series of spurts – warm and wet – with the usual tingle to my twat, though this time it would go unanswered.
I swallowed every drop and tried to ignore the pulse in my pussy.
I said goodbye to Chris, with a kiss on the cheek and a reminder that he was sending me off soaking wet, and that seconds would seem like minutes and minutes like hours until I got my turn later that night. I told him I expected ton of attention from his mouth, before pounding me from behind. “You can even fuck me up against the bedroom wall if he you think you can do it harder that way,” I giggled.
Goddammit I was wet, and I could get him hard again in less than five minutes. This place had better be fun.
Chris was pouting. “Why can’t I come with you to the club?” he said.
“Because it’s girls night out. You know that.”
“That’s bullshit. How do I know you’re not gonna fuck the first guy you see?”
“I’m not saying I won’t want to. If I added a drop of shampoo down there, I’d make enough lather for a bubble bath. But tonight’s about Brooke, not me. Besides, I don’t like sex in public.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Chris pulled his Abercrombie above his washboard.
“It’s true,” I said. “Never got into it.”
“Ever tried?” He said it like a dare.
I shook my head. “Nope. No interest.” I grabbed my purse and stepped out the door. “Fuck you in a few!” I screamed, flying down the first step.
I got in my Jetta and tore toward my house. Stupid bitch Melissa, cussing me out because I was going to be late, when I was there exactly 94 seconds before she was. I could’ve made her wait five minutes and left with at least one orgasm. Though that probably would’ve made me even hornier than I already was.
It was my fault, I should have planned the day better. That’s what I get, always trying to make time expand to fit my personal needs. Chris was just so spontaneous. It was hard not to respond to the whims of his calls.
I’d been with him, maybe 6 weeks. And by “being with him,” I mean fucking him every chance I got. He was totally my type. Funny, easy to talk to, cursed like a sailor. And he pushed my boundaries, which was hard to do. Sometimes I like the quiet guys, and sometimes I like the ones who tell me I need to shut the fuck up and swallow their cock. Totally depends on my mood.
Chris can hit me with both moods, and three holes, all in one night.
Like me, the thought of commitment made Chris want to throw up in his mouth. So we’d been best fuck buddies for a month and a half, and each had the other doing stuff they’d never done before.
Melissa pulled behind me and I glanced in the mirror, horrified though slightly amused at the drop of cum on my chin. I wiped it off, licked my finger, then reached into my purse for a tube of lipstick. I gave myself a double coat of stick and gloss, then pulled my hair behind me in a tight ponytail and stepped from the car.
“Ha!” I said to Melissa, opening the door to her Tahoe. “I beat you.”
She said, “That’s because I stopped and gassed up and got some gum. I didn’t stop to buddy fuck,” she said, then added, “shameless!”
Melissa pulled from the curb. “For your information, I didn’t buddy fuck. And if I had, I wouldn’t feel this horny.”
“You, horny?” Melissa laughed. “I can’t imagine that.”
“Fuck you,” I laughed. “Got any pot?”
“Yes, but not now. Not until we see the birthday girl.”
“Okay.” I figured since I was already waiting for a weed whacker, I could wait for my weed as well.
We picked up Lacy, then the three of us pulled up honking and yelling and waving in front of Brooke’s apartment. She came out running, ready to party.
Brooke looked as good as she usually did. She isn’t my prettiest friend, but that’s only because I happen to have a lot of hot friends. I grew up with money, what can I say. But even if she’s not the prettiest, Brooke is, by far, the sexiest.
Brooke is sexy without even trying, with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, long brown hair that tumbles past her shoulders, and bangs. She has flawless skin and a killer body, even though her tits aren’t especially big. What makes Brooke look really banging, is that she loves to fuck and it bleeds through her pores.
The way she walks and talks and moves across the room – all of it’s sexy as HELL. I feel sexier just being around her. And I’d probably never see her sexier than she would be on her 21st birthday.
Brooke ran toward the Tahoe screaming. Her hair was piled high and makeup perfect. She didn’t need to wear tight clothes or push her tits to the front. When she started moving, every guy in Pulse was gonna want to fuck her. It’s a good thing I was going back home to Chris later, or else I might’ve been jealous.
The music at Pulse was pumping loud enough to make my pussy ache harder, the vibrations from the beat punding hard against the mellow I was feeling from the three bowls I’d smoked in the Tahoe. Clubs usually aren’t my scene. At all. I can think of approximately 84,000 places I’d rather look for dick than the dance floor of a crappy club. But it was Brooke’s birthday and that’s where she wanted to go.
The bar was packed, and I doubted there was anyone in the club who had been there longer than an hour who wasn’t totally trashed. I went to the bar and got shots of Jägermeister for the four of us, then looked for my usual preference, anything over six foot. I may not be taking anyone home, but I figured I might as well have some fun as long as I was there.
I was dancing for a while, getting hornier, and drunker, by the minute. I’d thought I didn’t want to fuck, stay hungry for Chris, like he had to stay hungry for me. But I was wetter than a dry martini. The club made me remember my spring break in Mexico, when I’d fucked a stud named Jason, in my first threesome. It was also when Melissa and I first flirted with the muff swap we’d eventually take all the way.
I had danced with six guys, but all of them felt skeezy, which is fine if you’re rubbing uglies with your fuck stuff under the fabric. That didn’t mean I wanted to bump them naked. If I was going to get trashy enough to take one of these guys out to the car for a quickie, which I was coming closer to with every shot, then they had better be damn worth it.
Closest guy so far looked a little like Daniel Radcliffe, which almost embarrassed me, how hot it made me. He had to open his mouth. “That shirt's very becoming on you. If I were on you, I'd be cumming too,” he said. I didn’t mind the asshole pickup line. I was just drunk enough to see for myself what sort of magic stick Harry Potter was packing, but not drunk enough to ignore the execrable quality of his material.
I won’t list every line that ever worked, but off the top of my head I remember the guy who told me I made his two by four into a four by eight made me smile. The guy who told me he’d like to use my thighs as earmuffs made me wet as water and the guy who said, “If I flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head?” made me laugh out loud. Just like the guy who said, “Fuck me if I'm wrong, but isn't your name Isabelle?”
All of them got what they were asking for. Harry Potter’s, That shirt's very becoming on you line wasn’t gonna cut it.
Potter was behind me, hands at my waist, thumbs stroking the sides of my stomach, hard cock pushing against my ass. It put the juice in my pussy, but I pulled back anyway. Too bad, he could’ve had a friend who looked like Ron, or maybe Snape.<
br />
I checked on my friends. Brooke was dancing in the middle of a widening circle of guys, absolutely hammered and totally under control. Just like Brooke. Melissa and Lacy were cheering her on. I figured I’d join them when I had another shot inside me.
I was halfway to the bar when a stranger’s arm slipped around my waist. I turned to see his face, but his palm met my eyes, hard, and held their grip.
His hand smelled right somehow, and I couldn't pull away. Didn’t want to. He spun me around, then led me toward the dance floor, his hand still over my eyes. I trusted his motion behind me, as he guided me toward a free spot on the dance floor.
I could hear Brooke screaming in the background.
He pushed his body into me and flooded my inner thighs. This guy definitely had a chance. The stranger moved his hand from my face and I broke into a smile.
“What are you doing here?!”
Chris said, “You left me without getting fucked. I just didn’t think that was fair.”
“You can’t be here,” I said. “Melissa will kill me!”
“Your friends don’t know what I look like,” he said.
“What if they do someday?”
“They’ll never remember if you don’t draw attention to it. I’m just a guy dancing with you. They’d have no reason to remember that. Besides,” he added, “We’re not going to stick around for long.”
Oh, this was good.
Sticky, yummy, Autumn likey. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. Do you have a dozen roses waiting in the Scion?” I laughed. Chris was more dressed up than I’d ever seen him.
He laughed, too. Then he pushed his cock harder into me, leaned close, and whispered, “No, I’m going to fuck you hard against the brick wall, in the middle of the filthy alley. And we might get caught if we’re not careful.”
I’m not going to say that hearing him say that wasn’t hotter than a drop of the fucking sun, but I wasn’t going to let him nail me in a filthy alley with my skirt around my waist for the entire world to see. People confuse slutty with trashy too often. I’m proudly one, but rarely the other.
“I’m not fucking you in the alley,” I said. “Not when we have two perfectly good cars, both with plenty of space.”
He shook his head. “That’s not gonna feel as good. And your pussy deserves to feel its best.” He smiled. “I’ll make it feel really, really good. I promise.”
“I have no doubt. But that’s not the point. How about the bathroom?” I offered.
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll definitely get caught in there. We won’t get caught outside, it will just feel like we might and that will make me harder and you wetter. And even if we do, it will be one person passing by.”
Goddammit, I was WET!
“No,” I said. “I’ll fuck you in my car, and let you fuck me in the ass if we do it in yours. More room. But no way Jose in the alley.”
He whispered, “Meet me outside,” then left without another word.
My nipples were poking sharply through my cotton top and cum coated my inner thighs. I needed something inside me, a lot of something.
But I wasn’t going to fuck Chris in the alley. Not on Brooke’s birthday, or any day for that matter. That was trashy just to be trashy.
But I did want to fuck him, and I didn’t care which car it was.
I checked on Brooke, a little drunker but still in control. Lacy said, “So who was that?”
“Which one?” I said.
“The one who put the funny in your walk.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I knew Lacy wouldn't believe the lie, but I said it anyway. Melissa was dancing with a tall blond with stubble, and seemed to be getting lost in his eyes. I made small talk with Lacy as my pussy angrily pounded. Finally I said, “Fuck. Too much to drink. I have to piss.”
“Good luck,” Lacy said. “Line’s out the door. Ask me how I know.”
I smiled, thrilled to hear Lacy had recently pissed, then headed toward the bathrooms at the back of the club, pushing myself through the sea of bouncing bodies, slapping more than one hand on my way to the other side, the third with a snarl.
I took one last look to make sure my friends’ attention wasn’t with me. Brooke had every eye on her. I was clear.
Outside, Chris was leaning against his Scion. Good boy.
He wasn’t good for long. When I was just a few steps away, he leapt from the car and darted around the corner. My pussy was pounding so hard, I could've done nothing but follow, even if I wanted to.
He stood in the open mouth of a darkened alley, grinning. As soon as he saw me, he slipped into the shadows. I crossed the street and entered the alleyway, my clit contracting with every step.
I fell into Chris and he smiled like a predator.
I pushed him against the hard brick, then smothered him with my mouth, my hands at his pants. He kissed me back, kneading my tits through the cotton, licking my lips as I freed his dick from his dress pants.
I pushed him away and took off my panties, then took my place against the brick wall. “Fuck me,” I said.
His mouth was back on mine, but not before he said, “I will, but not yet.”
I put my fingers inside me since his were busy twisting my tits and squeezing my ass. I pistoned my pussy and said all sorts of pretty please, but Chris just kept kissing me and running his hands over my body, like we were alone in the apartment instead of an alley.
Chris broke free, then kneeled to his knees and put his face in my pussy. He inhaled my scent, which made me whimper like a dog. The next second I felt his lips all over my swollen clit, as his tongue lapped at my glistening lips. I held his head while he ate me, thankful for the wall and my 6” heels.
I was moaning softly when his mouth suddenly stopped moving. “Why are you stopping?” I cried.
“This is getting dangerous,” he said. “What if we get caught?”
I laughed. “I don’t care,” I said. “I need you to fuck me fast. Abuse my hole. I repeat. You cannot fuck me hard enough right now.”
Chris took me at my word. He shoved me against the wall and took me from the back, inhaled the world around us. He had to smell the garbage 20 yards away, but he said, “Your cunt smells amazing,” as he continued to slam me as hard as he could.
Anyone could take three steps into the alley and see me with my skirt around my waist, getting fucked hard against the brick. The thought alone would have taken me to orgasm, but the driving dick made it launch like a rocket.
The first orgasm made me scream, but it was nothing compared to the second. I couldn’t help it. I would’ve screamed if I’d been fucking in a church. Wave after wave of OHMYFUCKINGLORD continued to rock my body as it slammed into the brick.
I stopped screaming, right as he started. His cock rattling from behind me as blast after blast of cum, shot from his cock, flooded my cunt, then ran down my leg and puddled in the filthy alley.
I guess sometimes I’m trashier than I’d like to admit.
That was the first time I ever had sex in public.
Just wait until I tell you about the time I had sex in public with two guys at once!
XXX
“Phone Sex Slut”
(Autumn is usually bored working her job as a phone sex operator, but that’s because the job is usually boring. Who can get off over the phone when real dick is always just a text away? With 10 minutes to go before she needs to leave on a date with her boyfriend, Sam, the hottest call she’s ever had has her rubbing her pussy raw, and soaking the cushions beneath her.)
I’ve had a job working phone sex for the last few months, and I still can’t figure out whether I love it, hate it, or think it’s the most hysterical fucking thing on the planet. I didn’t go looking for the gig. It found me, then dragged me kicking and screaming to the landline, despite my many, many protests.
&
nbsp; My friend Brooke had been working phone sex for a while. And did, all the way until the minute my slutty sister, Celeste, got caught cheating on her husband, Rick. Celeste is a self-proclaimed cum bucket, who can never get enough of the man glue. She craves it every day ending in Y, whether the sun is high in the sky or waiting on the moon to get there. Rick figured, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, so he encouraged Celeste to start an escort service. She offered me a job, but I had to tell Celeste the same thing I’d been saying for years: I may be a slut, but I’m not a whore. And I never will be.
My friend Brooke has no such boundaries.
Good for her, I’m glad she likes it. According to Brooke, banging for bucks is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. That doesn’t mean it’s right for me, now or ever. Once she started selling muff for money, the phone sex job didn’t seem quite so slutty. So I said yes. I’m good with my mouth, in every way that counts, so I figured I may as well let it pay the rent.
The stuff I don’t like is obvious: heavy breathers, rude callers, assholes who say mean shit just because they can (while I have to sit and listen or lose credit on the minutes), and calls that are so BORING, I’d have to pour a glass of water on my pussy to get it wet. Unfortunately, that’s the vast majority of my calls.
Most of the time the calls are harmless enough, and I can keep myself entertained. The service has no physical contact, so I never feel like I’m cheating on my boyfriend, Sam. He knows all about it and I tell him every story worth telling (whether he wants to hear them or not!) Most of the time, the stories aren’t worthy of his ears.
The one I’m about to tell you definitely was.
One other thing I don’t like is that the job is dependent on a landline. That means I have to be home. The job would go from good to great if I could get guys off by bluetooth. I’m whispering half the time anyway, no reason I couldn't get my grocery shopping done and errands run, while making long distance goo from the driver’s side of my Jetta. But the landline locks me into a single location, so I have to schedule my work in blocks, just like a real job.
Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell Page 29
