When Bad Idea came over, I braced the 40-something weather in the infamously slutty American Apparel grey deep v-neck, the infamously slutty American Apparel booty running shorts, and a long black cardigan for some small sense of modesty’s sake. Besides, since it was only to open the door and head straight to my room for fucking, I was sure I could handle the two seconds of cold and that he wouldn’t mind the easy access, and me not even wearing a bra. I was home, anyway, I had good reason to be hardly dressed.
He settled on my bed, and after passing ambivalent judgment on The xx’s when I put on the album in iTunes (he might be ambivalent, but I think they’re the perfect sort of low key, effortless, sexy hook up music), ran his cold hand up my thigh. “It’s freezing outside.”
I laughed. “It’s usually pretty bad in my room too.” In fact, my room was sometimes colder than outside, making hangout naked or in minimal clothes more of a challenge unless I was under covers. But he didn’t really need to know that.
I was also still recovering from the cold that had hit me for the past few days, and still coughing (NOT sexy), and although it is generally challenging to see him and not jump on him, I couldn’t exactly grab him and makeout like any other time. I trusted he would take things into hand. And it took him perhaps another two seconds to pull me across, push my shirt up and began to kiss my stomach, his lips soft, warm, wet, perfect little spots of pleasure on exposed flesh. “What do you want?”
I sighed and stared at the ceiling. He kissed down lower, and began teasing me with quick kisses through the fabric of my panties, so that the sensation of his lips against my clit was unmistakable, spaced apart, tentative, as if daring me for a response. But with the cotton between his hot wet tongue and me, it was even more of an excruciating thrill, a painful tease. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to do what I want.”
If doing what he wanted involved what he was already doing, it was perfectly fine by me.
He pulled off the shorts and the panties, pushing me up and spreading my legs apart, and went to town on the soft, delicious kisses on my clit, the sucking that had me soaked in about a minute, already. One more reason that I like him so: he really does eat pussy like no other, especially when I can hear his breaths quicken with the motions of my pressed hips, feel the intensity of his lips and my fingers digging into my sheets, pulling at my own hair.
He pulled away for a moment, and pointed at my abandoned shorts. “I have the same ones.” I couldn’t really imagine a boy wearing shorts that short, but I guess if anyone would, it would be him. “What size are they? Because I have a small and a medium. Ha!”
I shook my head at him as he unbuckled his belt and slipped out of his jeans to reveal: more American Apparel underwear. I had to laugh at that. It was a good thing he threw those off and repositioned himself. With his cock hovering above my lips and his lips back at my clit, I could hardly spend time ridiculing his wardrobe. I lapped at the length of his cock and took it between my lips, my tongue wrestling with its sides, struggling suck it properly (and fighting the infuriating cough).
He sat up, and as I was too busy and blissfully in cocksucking land, I nearly forgot about the fact that, expecting his company, I had left my vibrator plugged in and charging in open view on my bed. Not that he would have minded, but still. Which worked out, when a moment later I felt the whirl of its silken firm top nestled against the slippery lips of my cunt. (And, mental sigh of relief that he knew just how to work one. But of course he would.) I only hoped that, as much as I adored my toy, it wouldn’t replace his talented mouth. It didn’t.
In another minute he had pressed my vibrator further in and returned to sucking at my clit. Meanwhile, I wanted something deeper inside of me and he wanted me to come. Despite his talents and the incredible combination of that and a luxury vibrator, I wasn’t that easy. He let go of his hand thrusting with the handle of my vibrator and told me to keep playing with my toy while he looked for condoms.
I watched him start to pull one on before deciding that I was not at all satisfied with the little of his cock I’d gotten earlier. I snatched it from his hand and pushed him to lie down, kneeling between his thighs with my best “I just can’t wait to have your cock in my mouth” eyes. And while I do love a hand pushing my head down on a cock, for the time being, I wanted free reign to do my thing. The slow, sensual licking that turns into a hungrier sucking, nibbling ever so lightly up the length of his shaft and wrapping my lips around the head, pushing back to watch him watch me as I performed my little visual flourishes while he laughed—I was doing it partly out of an agenda, as he’d told me that he’d never come from a blowjob and that simply was not okay with a girl who adored sucking cock so much. He told me that he still wasn’t going to come, just like how I didn’t with him. “But I could just fuck your face.” I gave him a half questioning look.
“Here, lie back.” Okay. Now, his hands gripped my hair while his cock pounded against my mouth, my throat. If I hadn’t been half sick, still, perhaps I’d have been more enthusiastic, but under the circumstances, perhaps it was better that he soon switched to fucking my cunt.
And, in case I haven’t mentioned, another reason I am such a fan of this boy is that his dirty talk rivals no other. He says every filthy thing that I want to hear—and some that I hardly expect. “You little whore,” as he fucked me, “what’s it going to take to make you come? Is it going to take five men, taking their turns with you? Fucking you without a condom and coming inside of you, filling you with their cum. Using you. Beating you. Doing anything they want to you. Fucking you in the ass. I’m going to fuck you in the ass if you don’t come for me, slut. Would you like that?”
I could only respond in delirious moans and yes sir’s.
Although he didn’t fuck me in the ass, with the help of my vibrator and his wonderful cock, I did come. And with the help of his hand gripping his cock, jerking off as he hovered his ass above my face and instructed me to lick (pausing, at times, his quickening pace to enjoy it further, I’d presume), so did he, spilling his milky cum over my (his compliment, not just vanity) perfect breasts.
Next time, Bad Idea. That, and every other item on our long long list of filthy fun.
