My best FWB returned to me yesterday morning, in the rain. It had been nearly two weeks since I'd fucked him – or anyone, for that matter. Business matters in my life had me especially on edge and I was looking forward to the distraction and release I knew he had in store for me.
He expertly rolled a joint, and we enjoyed it. I opened the windows, despite the rain and cold, to release the smoke that rapidly took over the room. The chill left him goose pimply, so I turned on the heat and made some tea.
We played Scrabble, side by side on my couch, our racks tilted away from one another, our bodies inches apart but not touching. As soon as I get close to him, my motor starts, and it was running fast and high yesterday.
The words flowed onto the board: silos, joy, flax, farce. The weed began to take its effect on me, and the pull in my belly began. I could smell him, all weed and shampoo and sweet milky chai, my tension growing. I started to shiver and shake in anticipation, as I do before he fucks me. My fingers and toes tingled and my breath deepened.
My hands shook as I played my tiles: gavel, noise, hoist, duel.. . I pulled ahead as I often do. Twenty tiles left in the bag and I leaned over, lifted the back of his shirt and took in his scent. Dizzy, I sat back up after a moment. "We may have to abort this game."
"Oh, yeah?" He played another word: yearn. Dear god.
Finally I won. I eagerly pushed the table away and asked him for my prize. He opened his pants to his already growing cock, lifted my sweater, opened my bra. As I struggled to remove it, he took my nipples firmly in his fingers, squeezing and pinching them as I squirmed and cried out, my head resting on his collar bone, breathing him in. We do not kiss. Moving down, I cradled his cock between my breasts and reached for it with my mouth. I couldn't wait to have him deep in my throat, and yet I denied us both that pleasure. I played with his head, with my tongue, my teeth. I licked up and down his shaft, smacked his cock against my lips and tongue. His hands took my head and began to gently then more insistently guide me down over his shaft, but I pushed back, waiting, savoring the edges of pleasure.
When I could take it no more, I swallowed his now slick and hard cock, swallowed until my lips reached his balls and my nose was buried in his stomach. He held my head there and gently massaged my throat against his length.
It felt like I could have stayed there forever, but he pulled out of my mouth, shoved me to one side, undid my pants which I quickly discarded and found me with his fingers – soaking wet already – found that spot that makes me squirm and squirt so fast, I was drenching his hand and the rug beneath me in moments. Smacking my pussy, working it inside and out, rapidly circling my clit with a finger, I came hard again… and again, I think. As I shifted I could feel the wet carpet beneath me.
I cried out as he withdrew his hand, but his cock immediately plunged into me from behind, his hand holding the back of my neck and pressing my face into the floor, each stroke deeper than the one before until I exploded again and squirted all over his cock. I reached around and covered his hand on my neck with my own as he stroked me, finding ever deeper places inside me, until he came with a wonderful, "Oh, my god" deep in my pussy. Oh, my, my, my. He does know my body now. "Phew," he said as he rose from the floor and headed to the bathroom to clean up. I lay on the floor for a few moments, then rose to put my own clothes back on.
After a few more minutes of conversation, he left, on to his day of business and I to mine. I am confident I will see him again in a week or so, when each of us is ready for more of what he laughingly calls my "therapy." Therapeutic, indeed. I am shaking as I write this. I could do him again now, for sure, but it's too soon to call.
Back to business…
Republished with permission from Liz Doherty. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo via Inspire Rae.