Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I think what I liked most about Ed was the way he made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe. We sat on the couch that night, sharing bottles of beer after I trekked home from the city for a Christmas weekend visit. We were at our friend Kyle’s house, the usual haunt of all our gatherings. We were twenty-two and had always been platonic until now, but things change.
I had missed Ed and all things about him, his warm smile and dry delivery of the most clever lines. Every time I visited home, he was a little bit stronger, still hulking over me at least a foot, but also growing built from his new labor-heavy job. I had changed too. My fears of fully committing to myself had lifted, and I expressed myself freely in style, with confidence. We had both graduated college at that point, me using my degree, him not. I listened intently as he caught me up on his life, then I bared stories of my journeys and tribulations. We laughed until I found myself resting my head sleepily against his shoulder, with everyone else in the house already asleep. The TV played Simpsons re-runs, and we quietly chuckled, barely watching the screen. Instead, I suppressed breathy laughs into his deeply worn hoodie. We were too drunk and high to feel any motivation for movement, so instead, we challenged ourselves to whisper-giggle softly.
Since freshman year of HS, we kept each other in stitches, forming long lasting inside jokes that lingered long into our current adult years. Some of the jokes were darkly morbid, perhaps at the expense of common decency for the sake of it. We were both traumatized and lonely as kids, finding solace in each other’s adolescent ways of using humor for coping. There was a chaotic lyricism to it in a way that only a small minority of people truly appreciated, so it was that much more noteworthy to find someone who understood and riffed with me in a completely effortless way.
In our junior year, I started dating someone in our circle, his best friend. My boyfriend’s lack of concern about our friendly chemistry spoke to how platonic the relationship was. Still, I found it quietly noteworthy that Ed never spoke about crushes, even when the names of other girls in our class flooded the room in dorky teenage excitement. Our friend group was strong, built up of childhood neighbors, then Ed and me, the random personalities who had found our way into the works. We were usually candid, with secrets staying close among only the selected few. There was transparency; we failed and succeeded together.
With Ed, I didn’t know how to acknowledge the confusion that grew when I thought about our relationship. As senior year rolled around, it took someone who only knew me through work asking me if Ed and I were dating for me to second guess my status quo. Perhaps the friendly chemistry had become something different as the years passed, as he waited for me to stop dating my high school boyfriend, maybe? This led me to interrogating him during our joined graduation party, pulling him away behind the trees to sit on the rusted bench swing. Fifty or so of our friends partied near the pool and volleyball net, and I cruelly put Ed on the spot.
“Do you like me…like, more than a friend like, like?”
He didn’t answer. I left for college and saw everyone on special occasions. Ed and I did not speak of the graduation party conversation.
Now, as adults, I had noticed a more self-assured swagger to Ed’s demeanor, with his flirtatious charisma at the forefront of his being. We were finally both single at the same time, and that night, at the yearly friend Christmas party, he had loosened up enough to finally be more forward with his movements, unafraid to lean in close to talk to me over the previously rowdy atmosphere of the party. Ed and I were usually the last ones to fall asleep at these things, maintaining the energy of a sleepover. Neither of us ever wanted the night to end, but we were both fading out. Jokes petered out into a comfortable silence, and Ed wrapped his arm around me, stroking the bare skin on my shoulder softly.
The TV flashed to commercial abruptly, the colors of a diaper ad contrasting with the bright cartoon palette. The babies sat and clapped their hands, likely staring just off camera at their mothers. Only twenty-two, I had really not been thinking about babies of my own at all, nor did I think I could be influenced by any sort of evolutionary urge to procreate at any point in my life. But, I couldn’t deny the adorable smiles and cheerful tone of the voiceover, calling out to the doting parents of the world. Through all my cynicism, this advertisement broke through my apathetic barrier and made me start feeling wistful about getting pregnant, an impulse that shocked me, but was intriguing. I stared at Ed, his gaze towards the TV as well, probably wondering what had transfixed me so intensely.
I whispered in his ear.
“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids one day?”
He looked over at me incredulously and laughed.
“I travesti istanbul mean, I guess – what’s the bit? I’m afraid of what you’re going to ask next.”
“No, no bit. The commercial just made me think about what it’d be like to have a baby. I think I have mixed opinions.”
He reached for the remote, taking great effort to do so without removing his arm from my shoulder, then turned the volume down to a lower setting.
“I mean, I think everyone probably has mixed feelings about having a baby before they do it. It’s a huge fucking responsibility, obviously. Seeing that ad freaks me out. They make ’em look like props in the ads, but I’m sure the entire crew was holding their breaths hoping one wouldn’t start crying and set off a chain reaction of screaming.”
I nodded and readjusted my posture, feeling a drunken boldness peaking in my body at that moment. I wasn’t trashed, but my filter had given up for the evening.
“It does seem like the type of thing where the idea is super fun. I mean…yeah, there’s the whole ‘making the baby’ thing. That’s the part I’m most interested in…I can only imagine how fun it is to want a baby and then just fuck your partner with a purpose…”
Ed’s shoulder muscles noticeably stiffened, sitting up a little straighter against the couch cushion. He considered the optics of his response intensely. I could immediately tell he wasn’t the type of dude who normally engaged in dirty talk, and he was struggling. A blush spread across my cheeks noticing this shy trepidation. I had always possessed a fetish for making men solve my riddles.
“Hmm.”
He cleared his throat.
“I…I’ve, yeah I guess I’ve never thought about that part before.”
“Oh, which part have you thought about?”
He shifted in his seat, chuckling nervously as I assumed he pondered how honestly he should answer my question.
“Well, hah..fuck. I mean, everyone likes the thought of…you know, cumming inside.”
I giggled, partially in shock to hear those words in his voice. They were so objectively vanilla, but coming from him, it felt like he had just admitted some scandalous fetish. The reality of Ed being a sexual being became very real, and the mental images I never had expected started flooding my head.
I must’ve paused in my reverie for too long; Ed grew anxious.
“Is that not the answer you wanted to hear?”
“No, no. I feel the same way. Except, well, obviously – being on the receiving end of it. I don’t know if guys realize women can feel it shooting up inside. And the way a cock pulses when it’s cumming inside makes me want to cum.”
As soon as I said it, I shrunk down in slight embarrassment. The words had just slipped out, pure word association, accidentally stumbling into some true feelings I had towards the topic. It was too late to retract my statement. Ed still hadn’t responded, just shifted on the cushion more. I didn’t even want to look at him. I had probably sprinted across a line of acceptable conversation for our level of intimacy.
“Are you trying to get me hard or something?”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t trying to do anything, but his question fulfilled its own prophecy as I began to consciously hope he was getting hard thinking about this.
“I’m just talking about the commercial, is all.”
I giggled as Ed pulled me in closer to him, his strong hands grasping harder. He laughed, starting to fully understand the gravity of the tease.
“I don’t think there were creampies in the diaper commercial.”
“What’s a creampie?”
He slid my slouchy sweater off my shoulder and slipped his hand under my bra strap, starting to push it off my shoulder. Maybe it was a little bit of punishment. Was he trying to make me wet, join him in agonizing sexual tension? He was too late for that. I was already soaking through my leggings, having gone commando to this little gathering. There had been no plan for me to end up in this position, and it felt very advantageous now. Ed could easily slide his hand inside of my pants and find a sopping wet pussy waiting for him.
Gracefully, Ed reached around my back and unhooked my bra with one hand, leading to small goosebumps spreading down my spine. Now looser, he pulled the cups over my breasts, letting them free.
While delicately running his finger across my clavicle, he leaned in to whisper. With every few words, he moved his hand lower on my chest, beginning to massage my breast.
“Well, when a couple is trying to have a baby, they don’t use a rubber. The cum has gotta go somewhere, right? Imagine I’m trying to get you pregnant. I’m not going to pull out, right? I’m gonna finish deep inside of you until it leaks out onto the bed. That’s a creampie.”
I moaned, feeling definite intentionality in his word choice, the future tense, both of us predicted to end up somewhere in a bed together.
“Shhh. Don’t let them hear.”
I whimpered and leaned into his touch, every part of me feeling warm istanbul travestileri and ignited. His fingers pinched my nipple tenderly and twisted it, using it as a tool to lift my breast up and jiggle it, still concealed underneath the fabric of my sweater. His actions grew more intense, fondling me with unbridled intensity. He used both hands to pull me closer to him for full range of motion, complete access to my round, full bust. I was a puddle whenever a man paid great attention to my nipples, and Ed stood out as one of the hungriest lovers I had encountered.
It seemed Ed was starting to lose some of his composure to his own lustful thoughts, devouring the experience. His voice sounded breathy, sometimes pausing in between words to release a small, staggered breath.
“I can’t believe I’m actually getting to feel your tits like this…I’ve…they’re so nice and soft. I wish I could see them.”
I paused for a moment, eyes scanning the room to analyze just how asleep our friends were. They all seemed incredibly passed out, surrounded by bottles. One of them snored heartily as he lay back in the reclining chair. It seemed safe enough to take a risk or two. There could always be plausible deniability, or we could convince them it had all been a dream if they had the balls to bring it up the next day.
Moving quickly, I pulled up the hem of my sweater over my chest, flashing my breasts and shimmying my shoulders to make them shake slightly. Ed’s mouth fell agape, sitting motionless for a few seconds. He snapped himself back into reality quickly, reaching forward to rub both his thumbs over my hardened nipples. Unexpectedly, he lifted me off the couch and onto his lap. My sneaky moans encouraged him to start groping my bare breasts again, massaging them more before pressing his face in and kissing. His soft lips against such sensitive skin made my toes curl in pleasure. My nipples had never been harder.
But cruelly, Ed pulled his head back and readjusted my shirt for privacy. It was too much in front of them, too conspicuous. We would have to adjust to more secretive things. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over our laps in order for me to get away with my next plan: touch him, rub his cock, feel how hard he’s gotten throughout this entire conversation.
I slid my hand slowly into the waistband of his joggers, already noticing the needy bulge that was beginning to raise the elastic up. I think he had already tucked his cock secretly when I had made him hard during some other part of the night. That thought thrilled me deeply. Had he slipped away to the bathroom to pray he would soften up soon and not arise too much suspicion, the precum he had to wipe away with some toilet paper before washing his hands and slinking back into the group?
“I wanna stroke your cock. Just inside your pants right now.”
His body tensed in thrill, and he nodded, leaning back into the cushion to accept his fate. Reaching into his boxers, I finally felt Ed’s firm, predictably leaking cock, decently large and, perhaps, scarily thick for someone as tight as me. It throbbed in my hand, so I grasped confidently, slowly stroking from mid-shaft up to the tip, lingering on the head. Each one of Ed’s whimpers made me want to increase my pace, threaten him with blowing his load too early for the fun to truly start. The whimpers turned into hushed moans as I milked his cock, hopefully giving him an experience he had never been able to find before. He had finally revealed something through these actions, giving me closure: he clearly had fantasized about me in the past. A delayed feeling of infatuation flooded me, this quiet thought that had stayed patiently dormant for years. I wanted him to be so dirty with me, fill me up the way he had described. I murmured in his ear sweetly while continuing my task.
“Ed, can we make a baby right now? I want you to fuck me so bad. I need your fucking cock. Please fill me up with more cum than you’ve ever put inside someone else.”
He thrust his cock into my hand involuntarily, groaning.
“Fuuckk yess. Wait – are you on the pill or something?”
“Duh. Stop breaking the fantasy.”
With a laugh, he started to fuck my hand harder, clumsily reaching to feel my breasts again.
“Well. I want to fuck you raw. I’m gonna stretch you out so I can fit my fat load all inside of you.”
I automatically began to stand, grabbing Ed’s hand to lead him away from the shared space. He looked at me, excitedly curious about where we would go. Up the stairs, we walked past Kyle’s family’s rooms, down to the end where Kyle’s room sat.
Ed paused, considering for a moment.
“Are you sure?”
“He once fingered Helena in our dorm room while I was like, five feet away trying to sleep. We’ll be even.”
Ed followed me through the door, and I locked it behind us. We were finally able to kiss each other, hungry tongues dancing in each other’s mouth letting out years of frustration in the form of low istanbul travesti moans. Immediately, our clothes flew off, tossed in random spots across the floor. We stood in front of each other, vulnerably naked, sizing each other up.
Ed wasn’t toned with definition like some guys, rather, his work-strong muscles showed his obvious functional strength. With every second I stared at him, he soaked it up, and his cock grew harder. He could tell I was worshipping him. Maybe he knew I thought his appearance added to this exact fantasy, me soaking up the sperm of a hard working man, a provider. Give me a baby, Ed. Fill me up. Give me that fucking cock and stop making me wait. I broke the silence first.
“Should I get on the bed?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me as I sat back on my ankles, hollow backed, chest forward, ass resting on my feet. This was a delicious torture for me, I realized, to be observed and visually appreciated by a man like Ed. He wasn’t even touching himself, despite his erection standing fully hard in the moonlight. I lightly rubbed my pussy while meeting his gaze, moaning louder than I had been able to downstairs. I acquainted it to my siren call.
Slowly, Ed took his steps to the bed, waiting a few seconds before joining me, pulling me down on top of him and gently sucking on my neck. His hand found its way to my pussy, and he rubbed dutifully. He was clearly more experienced than I had given him credit for, or perhaps he was just a natural. Either way, I felt myself grinding against his hand, rubbing my needy clit even harder against him. The way he stroked me felt so deliberate, scrambling my mind and reducing me to nonsense syllables and groans.
“You like that, beautiful?”
I nodded and sounded pitiful in my response.
“Yes, yes – so much.”
In contrast, Ed’s words intensified.
“Good. Can I lick your clit now? You’re so fucking wet for me. I can’t believe how much you want my babies. I bet you wish I could cum six times in a row just so there could be an ocean of cum, and that still wouldn’t be enough for you.”
There was nothing more I wanted in that moment than him making me cum, in any way, shape, or form. The fact that he wanted to go down on me just made it that much better. I wanted to be as wet as possible, to welcome his cock in a soaking, warm way. Something told me he was going to leave me as a depleted, sloppy mess after sucking on my clit.
I was more than correct. With one swift movement, he lifted me up and onto his chest, then angled my pussy forward towards his mouth. He wanted me to ride his face, and I was more than wiling to fulfill that fantasy for him. Holding onto the wall next to me, I rocked my hips back and forth against his tongue. He started slowly, just administering a few calculated licks. I started to quiver, mumbling to myself to release the air trapped in my chest.
“Please. Please. Please. Please. More.”
Ed licked faster, drawing circles and other shapes to tempt me into my first orgasm with him. His warm breath against my cunt felt like home, almost as though we had done this a hundred times before. He was so immediately in tune to exactly the pace and patterns that would make me cum hard and fast.
Another good quality of a provider; he clearly had taken feedback from other women and was applying it to me. Light pressure first, slow and steady. Don’t wear your tongue out too early on. He had listened to my cues, both verbal and physical. I think he judged a lot of it from how hard I was gripping his hair, or maybe the amount of pressure his nose felt from being held down firmly against me. He was anything but undedicated. Each one of my orgasms transitioned from one to the other, with no clear end point. He was relentless, seemingly willing to die buried between my thighs. I came louder and louder, culminating in one very incriminating outburst.
As he flicked his tongue on my clit, I felt the sweeping wave of an orgasm make my pussy pulse and contract. I needed to scream, let this out, free the energy.
“Oh my fucking God!”
Ed’s hand flew up to my mouth to suppress me, slightly useless at that point.
“You’re gonna need to shut up, babe. You’re going to wake them up with those pretty moans of yours.”
“I’m sorry, Ed. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be quiet and put your face in that pillow. I’m going to bend you over and fuck that drenched pussy of yours.”
I listened. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. It wasn’t in my character to let a man give me such stern directions like this. Maybe it was something about the fantasy that he was playing so well, a certain unlearnable characteristic that made him fit the mold so well. He was strong but projected safety. The commands felt like leadership, not disrespect. I felt completely assured I could rely on him to tell me what we would be doing, let him decide which way he would want to fill me up.
He had decided he wanted to fuck me from behind, the final area on my body left for him to explore. My ass was muscular and thick, curving at the sides like a heart. He wanted to grab onto my hips and own me, and I think I needed it more than he realized. I whimpered in impatience while I looked over my shoulder to him.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32