We met when his girlfriend left him. She left him high and dry, an immediate vacuum begging to be consumed. But she only left him temporarily and we both knew that.
It was a Halloween party, plied with whiskey. Short, black dress and fishnet stockings. We were a train wreck waiting to happen.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from me, and later that night he couldn’t tear my stockings off fast enough. We fucked outside the party in his 4wd. The gear stick stabbing into my back, his hard cock stabbing into my wet silky folds.
I woke up with a hangover, makeup black. The house was empty except for the sheets on the bed and a bottle of gin and a curious magnet of a koala bear on the fridge.
“Why do you have that,” I asked.
“My girlfriend is Australian.”
“Well she’s not going to like this.”
“No. No she’s not,” he replied almost indifferently, turning to the window.
“Well I’m a free spirit,” I chirped, gulping down disappointment, “call me a taxi?”
“On the way.”
The sun was shining, I was still drunk, the taxi driver was enjoying my insane verbal bullshit-banter. Laughing with me, or at me, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care. I felt young, alive, like I had dodged a bullet.
4 days passed. 4 blissfull days. Then he texted.
“What do you want.” I asked him.
I left it there, determined to stay strong. Move on. Bask in the memory of that beautiful black cock, a perfect one night stand.
Fast forward. Saturday night. 7 lucky days later.
I was lonely, the 5th wheel at a party for 4. The clock hit 1am. The 2 sets of lovers tugging at each others sleeves, whispering “let’s go home” with insistent little pulls.
Me, the mascot of the lonely hearts club. Feeling joyless on a Saturday night. Plied with whiskey, anticipating a cold bed and a quick climax to comfort the empty cavaity in my heart.
Then he rang. I froze in terror. The perfect storm.
“Avoiding me,” he said. His voice was raspy, deep and mellow. An aged merlot with a fat cigar.
I was unarmed and dangerous, already stepping of the cliff.
“Meet me in Suye.”
His dark 4wd rumbled up to my gate. I slipped my key in the lock.
The first time he fucked me quick and hard. Like a man that hadn’t drunk water in a week. His cocked swelled simply at my hungry look, my pussy didn’t need encouragement. I was slick with anticipation.
The second time he fucked me slowly from the side. He parted my thighs, slipping back into the warm, wetness, already sweet with his scent. This time it was slower, deeper. When I looked at him, his eyes were locked on mine. Brown, dark, pools.
“I love your body,” he told me as he pushed up to my womb.
I reached for my special oil and rubbed it over my tits, loving the pleasure it gave me, and the wild energy it ignited.
“I want to fuck you in your ass.”
I responded by rubbing his cock with oil. He became impossibly large. I felt scared but excited. A warm tightening deep in my anus. The anticipation making my cream flow even more, my pussy wetter than a juice peach.
When he entered me I took a sharp intake of breath. Moaning in pleasure, or pain, it was hard to tell. He put his fingers in my pussy and the agony of ecstasy became too much to bear. My pussy tightened, my g-spot quivered. We both came so hard, then lay panting on the bed.
Wet and sticky, I rose.
“She’s not going to like this.”
“No. No she’s not.”