Double Dare(145)

Because I’d been depressed and repressed at once, the divorce painful, and this hot action, this nasty little episode, was just the thing to shake me from my despair. So I completely let go, acting out my wildest fantasies, not holding back at all, sucking him deep while sticking my finger up his ass, drinking his juices, and after it was all over, pushing my tongue into the wet pool on the duvet.

And the big man loved it, watching my every move with ravenous eyes, his dick springing back to life even after he came.

“Fuck, little girl,” he rasped hoarsely, unable to tear his eyes away as I dipped my head for another taste of sperm on the coverlet. “Fuck, how’d you get so dirty?”

And I just looked up and smiled, pausing for a moment.

“Mister,” I murmured throatily. “It comes natural to me.”

His eyes lit on fire then.

“Natural, huh?” he asked, slapping a big hand against my ass, making me jump with shock before quivering with pleasure, those square fingers already massaging the sensitive space, my skin warm almost hot, tingling at his touch. “Well, you’re the best natural I’ve ever had.”

And I flushed, pleased then. Because I’d been so horny, so provocative that he hadn’t guessed my secret … that I’m a virgin. Yeah, it’s pretty unbelievable given that I’d just done a deep-throat combined with a prostate massage, but you can learn anything on the internet these days and I’ve seen my fair share of porn, firing up my laptop to surf the nasty sites, always making sure to clear my history afterwards. And even though I’m a slut, what I’d done today was nothing, totally nothing compared to what professionals did on screen.

But yeah, going back to my admission – I’m a virgin who’s also a divorcee. And it makes a twisted kind of sense once you know my story. Because why else do you think I left my husband? Gary and I dated two years before the wedding and we’d never done it during that time, never sampled each other, never explored each other intimately. My ex always said he wanted to “save himself,” arguing that he was “respecting me” by not touching me until there was a wedding band on my finger.

And I was so young then, so naïve, that I bought it. Gary was completely different from the boys in high school who’d been all over me, pawing at my breasts, trying to grope my pussy, even begging me for blow jobs, pleading with their faces scrunched up, groins twisted in agony. So when Gary argued that he was being the better man, acting the gentleman, I believed it.

Except when it came to our wedding night, he didn’t deliver. At first, it was no big deal. We were in the honeymoon suite at midnight, exhausted from the festivities and Gary was face down on the big bed, still dressed in his tuxedo, shiny loafers on.

“Gary,” I said, prodding his shoulder. “Come on, get up. It’s time to get lucky.”

I’d shed my wedding gown and was clad in nothing but high heels some flimsy, filmy lingerie, a tiny teddy and matching g-string I’d picked up at a French boutique a couple days earlier. Oh yeah, the time had come and I was horny and wet, desperate to get my cherry popped. Even though we were exhausted and tired, I was still intent on fucking my new husband asap.

“Come on Gary,” I prodded again, groaning as I rolled his massive form over, trying to force him awake with a series of shakes at his shoulder. “Don’t you want to taste me? Come on, open your eyes, look,” I said. And I popped a boob out of my negligee, the huge tit pendulous and creamy as I dangled it against his lips, trailing the pink nipple across his mouth. “Come on big boy, doesn’t that taste good? Wake up, wake up.”

But Gary was dead to the world. He was so gone, so tired and drunk from partying that I couldn’t rouse him, couldn’t shake him from his stupor. I stared at the prone male form, disappointed and horny. WTF?! I’d been dreaming of this day for twenty-two years and my body was on fire, dying for cock, running wet and steamy despite the fact that my supposed partner in crime was a bag of rocks at the moment.

Looking at his unresponsive body, I thought through my options. I could be a good girl and get in the shower and go to bed, desperate and unfulfilled, or I could make the best of the situation. I pursed my lips, thinking. It wasn’t fair. I’d been dying for this moment, buying the special lingerie, shaving myself, primping with high-end products, and fuck but Gary was such a let-down. I looked at him closely again, and the man was handsome even passed out, that perfect, chiseled face, the jaw strong and firm even though his mouth slightly open as he snored.

So I went for it. I was too desperate, too horny, and needed to sate myself, needed to get myself off as best I could using what was at hand. And if my new husband woke up midway, it’d just be an amazing surprise right? Any guy would die to be in his place.