End of the drought

My friend Rachael’s birthday was on Thursday. We celebrated last night with dinner in Chinatown followed by clubbing in Soho. The weather in London had warmed this week, so I dared a summery top that showed cleavage and bared midriff and a tight skirt whose uneven and ragged hem dropped to the midpoint of my thighs.

Pelvis grinding to the electronic beat, I rutted on the floor against men unknown to me. The music was so loud that I could not think: I could only move. Straddling a man’s thigh, I lowered my body onto his legs and, on the rise, brushed my breasts along his sloping chest. When he responded by gripping my waist and pulling me to him, I turned and bumped my ass up against the groin. My buttocks spun in circles and awakened his loins.

Another man: this one’s fingers ascended the ladders of my ribs. Hands cupped my tits. I left them there and leaned backward on my heels and let him buttress my weight from the rear. The unsightly scruff on the side of his neck meant that I did not linger.

Fingers reaching to the back, looping into his belt, I snagged the man dancing at my aft and gyrated my ass at him. This man’s touch strayed to the waistband of the skirt and scaled upward. I liked the hands on my bare belly, fingers splayed wide over my tummy, spanning the expanse of skin.

While we danced, a man spanked my ass in the shifting, colorful light. When I elevated from a squat, another man’s hand followed the line of the thigh up into the skirt. The men who kissed did so raunchily and with hunger.

Bedroom moves simulated upright rendered my panties moist. I had my choice, so at 1 am, I chose.

The man I left with was an inch shorter than me in my boots, but I had experienced the stiffness in his pants and appraised approvingly his stocky and muscular build. Despite how burly he was, he expressed himself nimbly and confidently on his feet. We had a drink at the bar. Learning that he had an apartment to himself, I said farewells to my friends and met him outside.

After the electronic beat in the nightclub, the silence on the street set my ears to ringing. I asked him to repeat his words as we made conversation about Libya. His brother is in the Air Force; he hasn’t talked to him in a month. While we waited in the queue for our turn at a taxi, he took off his black leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders when he noticed me shivering in the nighttime air. The chivalry led me to believe that I had chosen well.

The cab took us south of the river, below Elephant & Castle. I huddled against him, a hand running at the denim on the inner surface of his thigh. One arm slung behind me, he clutched my shoulder and turned my body toward him. Thumb rolling over the nipples, the unencumbered hand smoothed over my tits. Starting at the top of his collar, I snailed my tongue to his ear. Through the mirror, the cabbie watched us kiss.

In the bedroom, I laid on my side. He turned my skirt inside out so that it flipped over my ass. Fingers padded lightly and traced the curves of my rump. The flat of my hand followed the musculature in his broad chest and shoulders. We flicked our tongues at each other.

The man tugged my top down to expose a bra cup and shifted the black fabric aside. The nipple peaked for his tongue, which made a circuit around the areola and mounted the east face of the summit.

Pressing my leg between his, I lifted his shirt up and scampered my fingers across the bare chest. After more kisses, he pushed me flat on the bed and brought my thighs open. His fingers touched over the yellow panties. He verbalized his liking of the indentation that the lips of the pussy made in the filmy fabric. He rubbed the cunt lips in tight circles through the veil of soft lace. The fingers must have noticed the wetness they encountered at the apex of my legs.

When he lifted his shirt off, I raised my arm to run a hand over the hard plates of the abdominal muscles. My nails sketched the patterns of the tattoo on the side opposite. The erection had tented his jeans.

I sat on the edge of the bed, naked above, while he shed his clothes. The penis was a mirror of the man: though not especially long, it was thick and formidable. Taking the glans between my lips, I threaded the tip of my tongue into the foreskin. Fingers tugged firmly downward to expose the helmet. The man gathered my hair in a bundle and held it out of the way while I sucked him. Webbing my fingers over his balls, my lips stretched to accommodate his girth. I took him down the whole way, but mostly I lingered at the head, applying suction and tongue, because his response rose in pitch and crescendoed there.

The skirt came off and the panties followed. I had waxed mid-week, so the pubis was particularly smooth for the exploration of his fingers. He splashed the wetness on the lips over the surrounding folds and crooked his index finger inside me. The pads pressed against the roof of the clitoris. After so much masturbation, I enjoyed the touch of another human being and moaned my pleasure through the seal I had made on the penis in my mouth.

He disappointed me by licking my cunt only briefly. The tongue slashed between the lips and lapped at the clit above. It felt amazingly, toe-curlingly good, however concise in duration it was. Once he had rolled a condom on, I backed up to the edge of the bed and, holding my thighs in the air, spread myself open. He stood on the floor and eased his way into my cunt.

I had pressed dildos and vibrators inside during the past weeks. But there’s nothing like a cock.

The muscles inside stretched to oblige the circumference of his erection, then collapsed themselves against it. It was a snug fit, and I compressed the vagina to make myself even tighter inside. Fingers spidered over his pectorals. The tops of my boots flush with his flank, I held him by the hip. He pushed the cock in until the balls slapped below my cunt and withdrew until just the glans was seated between the lips. The motion was slow and deliberate. I felt the inch by inch slide. I felt the lubrication spilling over from the walls to facilitate the movements within. He fondled my tits while he fucked me. I concentrated on the ticking of the clock in the room, the noises of the birds outside, the exquisite reach of the penis, how thick it was, the fullness within. A cock completed my pussy. He didn’t last long, that first time, in the narrowness of my cunt. A horizontal dance marked the end of the dry season. The semen fell like rain.

Subsequent to this orgasm, I returned from the toilet and finally undressed fully, removing my boots and socks. Hands twisting on the shaft revived his erection. He reclined on the bed, and I mounted the penis. Steadied by the hands on my buttocks, I did a grind and impaled myself over the thick spear. After that, he took me from behind and made me come, a small shudder, but a satisfying one.

We slept together, with limbs vining, his hand positioned possessively over my breasts, and my head pillowed in the shadow of his arm. In the morning he woke me with breakfast in bed. I sandwiched his cock between two pieces of toast and lapped jam and honey from its sides. He tipped the orange juice into my pussy, and licked it up as it escaped. He did eat me then, all the way to a cunt inverting orgasm. As I squirmed on the bed and clawed at the bedsheets, the garbage trucks clattered outside on the street and exhaled hydraulic sighs. We had one last, messy fuck, the anonymous man and I, with him on top, smothering my body with his.