Recently, I saw a post on the Lush forums asking, “What is the sluttiest thing you’ve done?”. Frankly, if true, there were stories on that thread that made my answer look tame. But I had an answer, of course. And it is time for my first story in the “True” genre.
The scenarios in my stories have always been fictional, although there have been grains and nuggets of truth in some of them. I occasionally slip details from real sexual experiences I’ve had in there. In an early story called “The Bucket List”, for example, I mentioned a woman making a guy come so hard that his jizz went over his head and onto the headboard. This is possible, and hot to accomplish. Trust me on this.
This is my first genuinely, completely true story. I have changed the men’s names, out of respect for their privacy.
When I was twenty-one, I slept with two different men, both new to my bed, on two consecutive nights.
Is that slutty? Well, perhaps there is a distinction between slutty acts and slutty people. I have not, in the aggregate, led a slutty life. This, you will have to take my word for.
One of the reasons it happened was that I lived with a couple who seemed to do little else but have sex. I heard them at it night after night. There were spanking and loud cries and the bed creaking. Sometimes, I was like, “Jesus, keep it down!”. Sometimes it made me horny. And sometimes it made me lonely and sad.
I’d been crushing on a guy called Eric, who worked at the same bookstore as me. Eric was cute. We had a similar sense of humour. It was clear he liked me too. One day, we locked up the store together and went for a beer after work. And as one beer became three, I started to think, and I promise you, this was my thought process…
“This guy is so hot. Am I really going to go home night after night alone, and listen to Joan and Camila screw? Why should I go without? Why shouldn’t I have my needs met? Why should they get to think, ‘Oh, poor sad MC1982, she’ll never get laid.’ And Eric is fine with a capital F!”
This was not happening. I dialled up the flirting. I waited for Eric to kiss me. He obliged. I said,
“I’ve got some beers back at mine if you’d like to hang out. And some weed.”
“Sure!”
We sat on the balcony and smoked and drank. It wasn’t awkward at all. I really liked this guy. We finished our beer, and I got up. I took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. I pulled him onto the bed. We made out, and he kissed really well. He was tender and gentle. I unbuttoned his shirt…
“If we’re going to…go all the way, I have to pee first. Sorry.”
The human anatomy sometimes insists on complicating things.
“That’s fine!”
When I heard Camila come into the flat, and she was briefly startled as Eric emerged from the bathroom, it was better than fine. He was impeccably polite.
“I’m a friend of MC1982,” I heard him say. I grinned ear to ear. She knew I was getting some tonight.
Re-entering the bedroom, he undid the remaining buttons and pulled his shirt off quickly. Nice. Hairless, slim, wiry muscles.
I pulled down my trousers and pulled off my top. He took his trousers off. We were three pieces of underwear from nudity. He kissed my neck and we both reached for the other’s crotch. Mmmm…quite a handful! It felt so good being kissed. It had been nearly a year since my last breakup. It had been eleven long months since I’d last had sex.
You know, every partner you sleep with, you remember something about them. And this is one of my main memories of sex with Eric. Making out. We made out for ages. Feeling him rub and tickle the outside of my panties. Feeling, grasping, squeezing his penis and balls through his underwear. Feeling his warm kisses on my neck and chest. It was really nice.
The pants came off. I inspected the third erect penis I had seen. It had a good shape. Eric’s dick was better described as thick than long, but not too small. I undid the condom wrapper. Ah, that sweet latex smell. I rolled it down his penis, then, impulsively, I gave him three short sucks.
“Give me an orgasm, and there’ll be more of that for you.”
This is a deal I have with my husband to this day. Highly motivating, we find.
He nodded. I rolled onto my back and spread my legs. He pushed at my vagina, and we had some trouble getting it in. Eventually, we did it. He began to thrust. He soon had his stroke in. I lifted my legs for deeper penetration. Oh, I can feel that dick in me right now, writing this.
Eric was good at sex, even if the fact I liked him helped. If you had told me that I would be having sex with a different guy the next night, I would not have believed it. We moved to doggy style, and he thrust hard and firmly into me. His hands gripped my bottom. Great stuff. I was getting seriously hot now. Somewhere inside me, that penis was stirring the pot and something lovely was brewing. The bed was creaking.
“Want to change?” he asked.
“No, keep this up. It’s doing it for me.”
He did keep it up. In both senses of the word. Eric didn’t come for nearly four hours. He screwed me on my back. I rode him. He took me on my knees. I had three orgasms, and the last one was terrifically strong. I made sure Camila was in no doubt about what was going on in my bedroom.
Eric had richly earned the blowjob I gave him at the end. It didn’t take long before I felt his cock shudder in my throat, and felt the thick slimy cum spray out and coat the roof of my mouth.
When we’d cleaned up and I’d peed, we lay on the bed.
“I really needed that,” he said.
“So did I,” I replied.
There was a second time, which clocked in at two more hours of sex. We fell asleep at about three am, our bodies practically steaming. This time, he came inside me. Which was nice.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, the memory of this night is making me horny. I’m going to take a break and Mr. MC1982 is going to help me out, then I’ll return to tell the rest of the tale.