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Morning quickie February 20, 2011

Posted by Leah in Craigslust, D/s, Fucking.

Though I spent much of yesterday fucking Frank, I woke up horny and wanting. Breaking with my usual modus operandi, I answered an m4w casual encounters ad at 8:44 in the morning. After a flurry of e-mails, I met the man who had posted the ad at a café across the street from his place for a once over. It was 10:30 when I arrived; forty minutes were spent on travel. He was thirty-two and — a rarity — really as fit as his photo had indicated. The conversation was clumsy and inelegant, but I decided that as he was earnest and genuine, he would do for a one-off liaison. We agreed upon condoms and a safeword (lemonade).

In his living room, he had me strip and kneel on the small coffee table in front of the couch. Reaching over me, he carefully undid the plait of my hair, and then, reaching under me, he purposefully slapped my tits. He wrenched and contorted the nipples until my breathing became labored and I shrieked at the intensity of the pain. A thwack over my buttocks with the flat of his hand served to focus my attention below. Two fingers muscled their way into my pussy. He rotated them at the knuckles and fucked them in and out. I swayed on hands and knees. The incessant supply of degrading chatter lubricated my vagina. I agreed that I was a dirty slag for letting a stranger touch me this way after barely a quarter hour of acquaintance.

“Do you want me to slide it in?” he teased, showing his erection following the great reveal.

I looked at the cock, the solidity of it, the size, and I moaned over my shoulder in anticipation and desire.

“Tell me,” he insisted, the cock sliding between the cheeks of my ass.

I enunciated the words carefully: “I want you to fuck me with your rigid, thick penis.”

He entered from behind and slammed his length into me in an easy and fluid movement. His hand twisted in my hair, and the sharp tug of the reins arched my spine from the small of the back up to my throat. He gripped my shoulder and threw me around the room like a rag doll. My body weight was insignificant in comparison to his strength. I laid on the sofa with my head dangling off the edge while he splayed my legs apart with his powerful arms and stabbed downward. He compelled my knees about my ears until I was an upturned fuckpot for his penis. He half-crouched above me and used my cunt for his pleasure. I had told him that I wanted to be taken with force; he obliged, and I adored him for it.

“This is why you are here, is it not?” he stated, in awkwardly precise diction. “You came to be fucked.” His grip mangled my breasts.

“Harder, harder, harder,” I pleaded, and he made a herculean effort to comply.

He fucked me only the one time: the encounter lasted about as long as the tube ride — but, crucially, I was in a submissive place when he finished. Once we had dressed, I bent to tie the laces on his shoes, and he walked me to the elevator and buzzed me out of the building.

The man and I shook hands upon meeting. We never kissed or hugged during our time together. We didn’t have oral sex. He didn’t invite me into his bedroom. There were no endearments exchanged. We fucked on the table and the sofa, and then he let me use his bathroom to splash water from the sink over my face and pee. Though I didn’t come, I am nevertheless wearing a silly smile of satisfaction at this very instant.