It was the moment I’d been waiting for, sitting across from Cherry Popper at the pub we always went to, and yet, somehow, he seemed different – a little reserved, almost. Going off me, no doubt – it had to happen sooner or later. And I knew I wasn’t looking my best. Oh well. It was probably the last time I’d see him, I thought, gulping down my gin and tonic.

‎”You’re very good with time management, aren’t you?” he commented, as we headed down the road to the hotel. “You’re always on time.”

“Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting, CP,” I laughed. “And have you running off to see your size 12 psychiatrist friend…”

‎”I saw another size 12 girl recently,” he admitted sheepishly. “But you know I’ve figured out what it is about them…”

“What it is about whom?” I asked, hanging up my coat in the room. “Size 12 girls?”

“Because they don’t get much action,” he explained. “They’re gagging for it. Even more than you.”

“Even more than me?!” I hissed, swinging around to meet his lips. We kissed hungrily, our bodies pressed against each other.

“Now, madam, it’s time for you to remove your clothes,” he said with mock ceremony. I did as he asked and lay down on the bed, remembering the incredible orgasm he had given me the last time we met, with his very first thrust. However, this time, he taunted me, brushing his cock against my pussy and then aiming it downwards and thrusting into my ass instead. I gasped in pain – “are you all right?” “yes!!” – and he began to fuck me like that, in my favourite position, with our bodies pressed together and my clitoris rubbing against him. I felt the pressure building up – I knew I would be able to come, even like this, with him in my ass. But he soon withdrew and slipped inside my pussy instead, kissing me all the while, our mouths joined. As soon as he heard my moans of pleasure he slapped me across the face. But I was delirious and barely felt it.

He lay down beside me, smiling triumphantly. “My,” he said. “You’re looking particularly beautiful today. Will you sit on me?” I climbed up happily and began to ride him, my pussy still tingling from my last orgasm, it wasn’t long before I felt another one building! “Oh CP,” I cried. “You’re like a fucking machine!” “You’re the one who’s a fucking machine,” he smiled modestly. Finally, completely wasted, I collapsed beside him.

“Do you ever watch porn?” he asked, reaching across me to pull out a tablet from his bag. “What do you like?”

“Sex and Submission,” I answered.

“Hmm. Don’t know that. I’ll Google it… is this it?”

“What? But this isn’t Google…”

Looking closely, I saw that he had searched for it not on Google but on some random porn website. We watched an anal hook video, but he was unimpressed, particularly with the cum-on-face finish.

“You don’t like that?”

“No,” he admitted. “It’s very rude. Unless she asks.”

“You would come on my face if I asked?”

“Oh yes,” he grinned. “Now what should I Google next?”

“How about ‘rough sex’? But stop calling it Google.”

He searched obligingly for “rough sex” and put on a video which consisted of a close-up of woman’s backside with an enormous cock pistoning in and out of her pussy.

“The problem with rough sex,” he mused, stroking himself thoughtfully. “Is that I wouldn’t want to watch anything where the woman doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it.”

“It’s porn,” I reminded him scornfully. “The woman always looks like she’s enjoying it. Believe me, I’ve scoured the internet trying to find videos where the woman looks like she isn’t enjoying it…” I stopped, as he clearly wasn’t listening, his eyes fixed on the screen, his hand pumping furiously up and down on his cock. I lay back, glaring at him.

“Oh, would you like some more fucking?” he asked, finally noticing my discontent.

“Of course I want more fucking.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to help me take a piss first…”

“What, really?”

“Yes. You can hold it for me while I piss.”

I hopped into the tiny bathroom and gingerly held his cock as a jet of urine sprayed forth all over the shower.

“It’s a little blocked up with come right now,” he explained. “That’s why it’s so… spurty. Now do you want more fucking?”

“Yes, please!”

“All right then, lie face-down on the bed.”

I did as he asked. What was coming? Would he fuck me in the ass again? Instead he began to fuck me doggy-style, and then grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me almost upright! I had to grit my teeth to endure the pain. Finally he released me.

“Do you want some more fucking?”

“Yes,” I gasped, and he began to pound me again, in missionary this time, slapping my face every now and then, for good measure, ceasing only when I came.

“Do you want some more fucking?”

“Actually,” I murmured. “Would you come on my face now, please?”

“Oh no,” he whispered. “What if I can’t avoid your hair?”

“I don’t care!”

With a broad smile, he sat up and began to stroke himself, while I knelt before him open-mouthed, until finally, he erupted all over my face and chest in a fountain of come!

“And look,” he smiled, lifting up a strand of my hair. “I managed to avoid it, after all.”

I laughed gleefully, wiping his come off my chin and tasting it on my fingers. He popped a little something into my hand-bag – “almost forgot! a little something to add to your pile of depravity” – and then headed into the bathroom to clean up.

“Will you take a shower?” he asked me, solicitously. “Or do you not like cold showers?”

“Cold showers? You mean to say there’s no hot water in this place??”

“Er… no.”

“Well, then, no way! I’d rather just go home covered in come!”

He nodded, shame-faced. Ah, if only he knew…

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One thought on “5 Days in the Life – Day 3

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