Repeat visit

The text came on a Friday night while I was out with friends. Asking if I was free the next day

As soon as I saw his name pop up on my screen I was excited. We arranged a time and he texted me before he rang the bell :

“A naked welcome would be nice”.

I opened the door.

“Not quite naked” I said.

We stood in the hallway. He kissed me hard, his mouth was warm and tasted of oranges.

He slid my already fairly moist knickers slowly down my hips and bent down and started lapping at my pussy.

I steadied myself against the wall and looked at half my face in the mirror. I moaned as his fingers brushed my pussy, then remembered my neighbours could probably hear.

He came back up to kiss me and pushed himself against me pinning me to the wall. I unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his trousers. His cock was standing to attention already, I bent down and took the whole length in my mouth, making sure to maintain eye contact.

His head was thrown back in ecstasy. We were both totally butt naked in my hallway. I licked his balls and cupped his ass, running my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip.

He pressed himself against me again, kissing me hard, with his cock warm and stiff against my belly.

“Shall we go upstairs?”he said.

I slipped off my wedges and lay back on the bed. He pushed my legs wider apart and started licking my cunt lips, working a finger inside and varying speed. I was lost, it felt so good.

He was really taking his time…kissing the inside of my thighs, brushing my clit with his tongue, I was close to cumming all over him but couldn’t quite make it.

He came up to lick and bite my nipples, squeezing my tits hard and pressing his cock against my groin. His body felt hard and hot against mine.

He asked for condoms, expertly rolled one on and I climbed on top.

Oh god it was too good. I rode him hard and rhythmically and was about to come straight away so slowed down.

He bucked like a horse and came at me quicker, I couldn’t take it, I had passed the point of no return. I came hard – my first fuck in weeks – and moaned into his face, my hair tickling his.

“Did you come?”

“Of course I did”

He pulled out.

“You can keep it in if you want”

No, I don’t wanna come yet”

He pulled my tits closer to his face, licked and kissed them, then me, then back to my tits. He looked like he wanted everything all at the same time. I didn’t blame him.

He pushed me over and started fucking me from behind. Slow slow slow then faster faster faster, being pumped from behind got me hot.

And then he pulled out. Flipped me over again. Started fucking me with long hard strokes. Oh gosh I could come again easily, I thought. I was so wet again.

And then, like something out of the best porno movie, he pulled off the condom and sprayed cum all over my pussy like confetti.

“That was a pleasant surprise” I said

“It was to me as well” he said.

He ran to the bathroom for tissue, and wiped me clean.


A while after he’d gone I went to the bathroom. The smell of his spunk was overpowering. I looked around – he’d left a wad of toilet roll on the dresser full of it.

The awakening

He was just a fuck buddy. I can’t remember how many times we fucked or over what period. That doesn’t matter.

His body was pretty buff with no hair, like his head. I didn’t even fancy him, always the best material for a FWB. I loved riding him, and he always had pretty good stamina, our sessions were long, strenous and satisfying for both of us. He was also an amazing kisser, with beautiful full lips.

He had an open relationship with an American girl and he was basically saving up to go join her. But obviously needed something to bang in the meantime.

We fucked pretty much every week. He’d come over and give me a good seeing to, sometimes staying over but mostly leaving straightaway.

One particular time we’d gone to bed. I’d got pretty drunk on gin I recall – back then I needed something to get rid of my inhibitions. That night I was pretty out of it.

All I can remember is riding his cock, straddling as if he was a fairground ride; and him with his hands all over me, kneading my tits, holding my shoulder, pumping me hard and me coming time after time until I fell back on the bed in a crumpled messy heap.

The bed was soaked. I couldn’t understand it. I asked him what had happened.

“You squirted. It was you”


“You squirted. You came really hard that last time, it’s all over me, and the bed”

I had no clue what he meant. But went along with it.

It was years later before I understood what he meant.

And I’m still waiting for someone to pull the trigger again.

The Charity Worker

He started off by texting me absolute filth. Calling me a cumslut and worse. I was his ‘dirty bitch’ and I was going to get it hard. Sent me pictures of his cock and asked if I thought I could take it all. Did I squirt. You get the drift. He was going to cum on my face apparently. He clearly wanted to get it out of his system. It got a bit tiresome if I’m honest.

The first time we were meant to meet he came up with some BS about the tube not working. I checked and it was.

The second time we made plans he called me and checked where we were meeting. I ran off to finish getting ready and came back to find a text saying he was sorry and he had a girlfriend.

Now, I should have given up there and then really but I didn’t. He didn’t either.

The third time we arranged to meet, we actually did. Except I was absolutely steaming drunk and he ran away.

I ran after him, persuaded him a little and he came back to mine.

I’d been drinking champagne all night and had two bottles in my bag (don’t ask) so decided opening one was a good idea. It went everywhere and a glass broke.

We started on the sofa. Kissing and stroking. He had quite a long beard and I’m sorry to say it just smelt bad. Even drunk, it wasn’t nice. It just wasn’t clean. And he used his teeth to kiss.

He started off his dirty talk and it just didn’t quite do it for me. But in for a penny, in for a pound I thought and unbuckled his jeans. His cock stood proud and erect without even having to touch it.

I pretended it was the most delicious lollipop in the world and worked my tongue over it, bobbing up and down working up momentum. He said nothing. And then ‘oh god I can’t do this please stop’. Muttered something about the girlfriend. Pah. This dirty talker was an absolute sap in real life.

I told him to wait for me while I slipped into something more comfortable.

In my bedroom I tipsily changed out of my workwear and put the killer underwear on. Tiptoed downstairs and tried to continue the seduction. He took one look at me and snogged my face off, grabbing my hips and pulling me into his lap. Girlfriend forgotten. Funny that.

He unhooked my bra and massaged my tits, making comments about what a dirty little girl I was. This was more like it. He circled my nipples with his tongue, I told him to bite them. Oh yes. He pulled my knickers to the side and worked his fingers into my pussy. Oh yes, this was getting better by the minute.

“You horny little bitch, you’re so fucking wet, you’re going to fucking get it” he said, and I lay back on the sofa, expecting him to lick me.

Instead he climbed on top, still pretty much clothed, me with underwear. His buckle dug into my thigh, making me jump with its coldness. He was taller, this was uncomfortable, it wasn’t going to work here. I told him to come upstairs in a couple of minutes while I sorted out condoms.

Quickly cleared the bed of clothes and make up. Lay back alluringly and waited. And waited.

How drunk was I?

How long did I wait?

Questions I can’t answer. I tottered back downstairs. He had scarpered. Leaving my front door unlocked.

The Teacher

He wasn’t my usual type. Hell, he was smaller than me, well-built ( but not from the gym ) and very hairy.

His oral technique was thorough, eager and always provided me with an orgasm. There was something about his tongue, whether I was astride his mouth or him lapping between my legs. The memory of it makes me instantly wet now. He went at it with real gusto, like his whole purpose was to be in that moment and nothing else mattered. His stubble on my cunt lips, his tongue stabbing my clit, my fingers grasping his head pulling him closer to ensure climax.

He said I gave the best blow job he’d ever had. His cock was a joy: big, thick and uncut. He’d moan uncontrollably as soon as my mouth touched his head. It was never difficult to get him hard or make him cum.

With all this in mind, I anticipated our first fuck with great expectations.

How to describe?

The first couple of times I tolerated it.

He would mount me and just thrust like a bucking bronco randomly. I mean, I love being pounded to within an inch of my life, but this was all of the energy with none of the benefits.

I felt like an Edwardian wife, head turned sideways so as not to see his face struggling in concentration as he banged against me like an automaton.

(Recently I demonstrated his technique to a friend on the sofa. Banged my shin against the wooden frame and collapsed in laughter and pain. Karma indeed.)

Now, I had to say something.

But, awkward, no? As he drove into me again I whispered into his ear ‘Slow it down’. He bucked and pulled up. ‘No, slower’ I repeated. ‘Mnnnghhhh’ and he settled into a much less frenetic rhythm. Started varying the thrusts. Became more confident. Learned to delay his own pleasure and enjoy watching mine. The sex became something to take time over, not to get out of the way.

We ended up having some really good fucking sessions. He loved it when I got on top, but always liked to finish doggy style, his balls slapping against my pussy. He even licked my asshole once. I’ve never been into role playing, or dominance but the balance of power shifted once I’d coached him.

He’d beg to cum on my face – the deal was ‘only if you let me cum on yours’.

I was now the teacher, the roles had been flipped. He was a very good student.

The Romanian

He was another young one. But he’d approached me, so that made it okay. I’d practically auditioned to be his ‘FWB’ and passed with flying colours

He came back to mine and we chatted for ages, sharing a bottle of wine despite it being a Monday and neither of us had eaten. I felt like I was 16 again as he moved closer to me on the sofa and started to wind my hair around his fingers, pushing it behind my ear.

It was late so we went to bed. He took off his t-shirt to reveal a tattoo of an owl right across his chest. We climbed in, both still with underwear on and I wondered how it would start.

Sometimes, you want to be undressed by the guy you’re about to fuck. Slowly teased out of your pants, your bra unhooked and your breasts cupped by eager hands and lips. Sometimes you undress for them with a flourish, perhaps leaving your knickers on, or your suspenders if its a special treat. Sometimes you can’t get your underwear off fast enough, the guy’s buckle gets in the way and you have to squeeze in their belt to release them – or they can’t unhook your bra quickly enough with one hand.

This was none of those times. We lay together in a half-light pretending sex wasn’t going to happen. And nuzzled into each other, gradually feeling our way towards intimacy, towards the inevitable. He was skinny, bony and with a tiny waist. I felt huge beside him but there were no complaints. We lay facing each other and the owl stared me in the face. TO-WHIT-TO-WHOO I thought I traced the wing span which ran across his chest with my fingers. 

I’ve never been one for tattoos but this was something else. So huge and beautiful and in-your-face. He guided my hand down his body towards his pants. Oh my. He was big. It was straining against the waistband of his shorts. My pussy ached.

We continued touching each other, but he never touched my pussy. Didn’t want me to go down on him. He nuzzled at my breasts so gently, so softly. I was going crazy inside.

Eventually he got the message – climbed on top and pushed inside me, pumping rhythmically and methodically, face over my shoulder. I pulled my legs up and battled against him lifting my pelvis higher to meet his thrusts and bring him deeper.

I remember thinking how delicious this was, but also how strong and contained his movements were. Such a turn on. No noise, no words. Just a guy pumping me like his life depended on it. The rhythm and the regularity a massive turn on. I was overpowered.

I thought to myself, this is amazing.

He came. loudly and with feeling. I fell asleep almost immediately as did he.

He had to be at work very early so I woke up and gently shook him awake. Accompanied him to the tube.

Two days later he emailed me to say he didn’t think the ‘with benefits’ thing was going to work. I asked why.

‘I need more benefits’

Like what? I probed

‘Like every time we date, you pay for dinner. And every month you buy me clothes’

Putting my tongue in my cheek I asked how much.

‘£300 a month’ Deal or no deal?

It was a great bang, but not worth that sort of money.

The Millionaire

I didn’t know he was before I met him. He’d suggested we meet in a very cool looking cocktail bar in a posh part of town I don’t normally hang out in.
But I sometimes frequent places like that, so I didn’t think much of it.
I’d gone to a talk beforehand, then met some friends there who persuaded me to go for a drink.
As a result I was probably later than he expected. I arrived at the bar and ordered a drink. I was fucking nervous.
He messaged me and said he was on a conference call. It was 10pm!
I was livid. I sent back a string of messages asking what I should do. wait or leave?
I tried to relax. The cocktail I’d ordered was pretty spiffing if I’m honest. But I hadn’t come all this way for nothing.
He suggested I join him at his place ‘round the corner’. I checked, it wasn’t round any corner and was a little too far to walk.
I finished the drink, paid and left.
The cab driver took me right to the door and explained there used to be garages there. Reassuring.
He opened the door and immediately began a Hugh Grant style speech apologising, something about having to go to Venezuela. God, he was cute. I looked down at his feet.
Now I’m a huge fan of a hotel slipper. And a robe, and a hotel room itself but there’s something about the slippers.
He was wearing chocolate brown Mandarin Oriental Hotel slippers.
I joked and said ‘You were never coming out were you?’
Again the Hugh Grant routine. Which absolutely won me over.
He led me upstairs. I already knew he’d just moved in, but blimey what a place.
Three storey, three bedroom mews flat in a swanky part of town.
We started on rum and coke. He was a minerals broker, travelling around the world regularly. Probably went to Eton. Totally out of my league.
He offered me cigarettes. I don’t smoke but I used to and there is something sexy about having one lit for you and one with a drink.
Next he brought out weed. The finest I’ve smoked.
By now we were both on the sofa, him with his legs stretched out over me. I commented on his cords. We chatted for about three hours, fueled by fags, booze and finally the hard stuff.
I fancied him alright. I fancied his bumbling ways, his humble wealth and his manners. But I wanted to see HIS moves.

He had none.

We retired to bed around 3am, like a married couple. I think I even cleaned my teeth.
I hung my clothes on the bedroom door handle.
Climbing into the sheets, I could feel they were the finest thread count money can buy. The bed was huge.
He started kissing me, hands all over my body like an excitable puppy, we were both so wasted I felt nothing.
I went down on him. He pulled me up. Pushed me down, pushed himself inside, thrusted a couple of times and that was it.
He muttered something about setting an alarm for 7.30am as the builders were coming at 8.
We lay apart all night. I didn’t sleep a wink. He wore an eye mask, I had to stifle a laugh .

It’s the first and final time I’ll bang a guy like that.

Room service?

It could have gone either way to be honest. We’d chatted online for a while, long enough to decide we wanted each other.
And I was hoping it would go the right way.

He was in town only briefly, there were two chances to meet or not at all. But we happened to be in the same part of town, a coincidence that made it difficult to ignore.

I was at a work thing, then a dinner. As we settled up, I messaged to see how he was doing. His thing had finished – next thing I knew I was making excuses to leave and hailing a cab.

I ordered a cocktail once I arrived. It was late, past eleven on a work night. A Tuesday, no less. But I didn’t give a fuck.

He walked in and we immediately got on like the proverbial house on fire. I had the feeling this was going to be fun.

The bar emptied out, we were suddenly the last ones there.

We left, and with no negotiation or discussion I was in his hotel room.
And what a hotel room.

Like the ones in my ultimate fantasy. Big bed, white sheets, more pillows than is ever necessary.

We ordered room service drinks and I suggested we get into bed. The room although stylish, wasn’t very warm. I got into bed fully dressed. He followed me. I wouldn’t take my knickers off until he’d seen and admired the back, sexy little lace up numbers.

The rest is a delicious blur, a string of sexy tableaux or dirty hot vignettes in which we moved seamlessly from one to the next. I wasn’t drunk and neither was he, but our inhibitions left us as soon as we hit the sheets.

He was a total gentleman and nothing felt strange or wrong.
He went down on me the first time and I exploded, shudders going through my body as if I’d had an electric shock. I moaned the place down, I’d lost control of my body.

Then later again, but him crouching beside me with his dick almost in my face, I rubbed it and teased him into a 69 position, adjusting myself to take the full length of his cock in my mouth as his lips teased and swelled my clit and built to another incredible orgasm.

I wanted to try for the first time with my head upside down hanging off the edge of the bed, him behind me feeding his length into my mouth, gently, carefully, with no danger or threat. It worked perfectly.

Then me kneeling between his legs, him holding my hair off my face so he could see me deep-throating him. My eyes watering, I gagged. I loved the feel of it at the back of my throat, filling my mouth. I could have stayed going up and down his beautiful cock all day. I pulled up and drooled a little, coming up for air. I looked up at him. He pulled my face up to his to kiss me.

Him feeding me his fingers whilst his other hand was busy fingering my pussy, one two, three fingers and one in my ass for good measure. It was gorgeousness and gorgeousity itself, as Alex says in ‘A Clockwork Orange’.

Excuses were made about condoms, but for once I had come prepared. It was a shame I only had three.

We’d sleep for maybe 10/20minutes at a time and then start up again. Teasing each other into submission, feeling under the sheets for wet bits, hard bits, bits that seemed to fit together so fucking perfectly.

I came three times from his tongue alone that night. I was in another place entirely. Utterly insatiable, I couldn’t get enough. Each orgasm was more delicious than the last, and the pleasure was intense.

Early morning, him half asleep and snoring a little, I moved under the covers to give him a special wake up call. I licked the tip of his head and circled it with my tongue. Then took him in my mouth, sliding up and down his cock and softly cupping his balls, him moaning and starting to realise what was happening, me rubbing myself with my fingers slowly and then faster as his moans became quicker.

The final flourish – climbing on top of him, both of us still half asleep, him sliding his cock inside in one smooth movement, riding him with the most delicious orgasm building. I bent over him, tits in his face and pulled him closer inside me, riding and grinding the most delicious feeling so ready to come again. The orgasm rose and fell, rose and fell. I couldn’t tell if he was close or not, if I stopped moving he started again, it was like clockwork. Both our faces contorted in pleasure, the feeling was incredible, so close to losing it, then oh god there it is there it is then suddenly oh god oh god oh god that’s IT.

We came almost together, neither of us able to speak our mouths were so dry.

I had to leave at 7.30am in order to get to work. How on earth I made it through to 5pm I will never know.

The Megane

Yeah, it was a car. No, I didn’t have sex with it or in it. But I loved it.
It was a company car, back in the days when I wore a suit.
My territory stretched far across the country, I’d have days where I’d visit a few clients, stop somewhere for lunch and then make the journey home. I’d never stay in hotels, always have the long drive back.
Someone once called it a hairdressers car. It had 2 doors, a hatchback, lumbar support and air conditioning.
What more would a girl need?
Of course there is something sexy about cars and driving and the feel of the seatbelt constraining you as you move through gears or you spin the wheel. Of being in control of a powerful machine.
So I developed a strange little habit on some of these journeys of mine.
I would try and bring myself off before I got home. It’s probably dangerous. It’s definitely quite reckless.
But I did it all the same.
I’d get myself into a position so that my trousers were really tight against my crotch, so I didn’t even have to touch myself. Just rub the fabric against my pussy by moving my legs. Squeezing my thighs together keeping my feet on the pedals as I drove through the night.
The challenge was to keep my hands on the steering wheel.
Sometimes I came just as I turned into my road, sometimes well before that.
I haven’t driven for years.
But when I see a silver Renault Megane, I smile and remember my naughty habit.

The Italian

We met outside the station. I had walked past him several times as he didn’t look quite like the picture he’d sent me. And it was dark.

He was nervous and suggested we go straight to his rather than for a drink. Fair enough, I thought. He then led me back to the train station I’d just got off at and took me to the outskirts of town.
The journey was awkward at best. He had no conversation. I just smiled.
When we got off, he started talking. Dull stuff, like asking what I did and how long I’d lived in the city. His English wasn’t very good.

And then we embarked on an incredible journey – across a rugby field, down an embankment, past a dual carriageway, under an underpass, down an alleyway. It felt like we’d walked a couple of miles.

We ended up in suburbia. He led me to a house and told me to take my shoes off. I hung up my coat and the hook actually came off the wall.
All the signs were bad. But here I was and he was pouring wine.
We sat in a stark living room with a puke coloured leather sofa. No music. No dimmed lights. No character or conversation pieces. He fiddled around with the wine and suddenly started kissing me, stretching his body over mine to reach my mouth.
It was bad. But also quite good.

We fumbled around for a while, sussing each other out. He smelt good but something was not quite right. I have a real problem with fucking on sofas (always unlucky) so I suggested we go to bed.
He couldn’t undo my bra. He fumbled for ages and I had to help him out. He sucked my nipples too gently and I was getting too impatient.
He took off his pants and displayed an unmemorable member. I can’t recall how big or what it looked like. He wouldn’t actually let me get near it. No touching, no sucking, no fun at all. br/>
By now I was gagging for it. I’ve never had a problem getting wet for a guy. Even in this sad scenario. br/>
We kissed some more and held each other close, grinding together a little. His body was lean and hard and he felt better naked against me. I suggested he get a condom and off he went on a grand search.
I idly fingered myself until he came back. The room was bare, the bed was single and it wasn’t sexy at all. Of course he couldn’t get it on. I helped out. I felt like a teenager as he started to finger me, I guess to get himself ready, and check if I was. Little did he know I was ready at ‘Hello’.

He let out a sigh. and then ‘I’m sorry’.

I looked at his cock. It wasn’t hard anymore. He’d come in the condom before he’d even got it inside.

“It’s okay” I said, realising that I was unlikely to get satisfied this evening. He fingered my pussy for what seemed like an age, until it was actually dry again and his fingers were hurting me.

I got up. Put my clothes on. He said something like ” I think that’s it”.

(No shit Sherlock)


“I’ll walk you to the bus”.

He wanted me to leave, embarassed by his failure. I’m not a cold hearted bitch, I would have stayed there and held him all night if he’d wanted.

This poor inexperienced guy who’d come in a condom rather than my rather wet accommodating pussy.

It was definitely a whimper.