I won’t lie, now adays I’m well aware that when I’m in a room with B I’m even more easily distracted than usual, so this part is no surprise to me, but the only thing I remember between walking up to the room and getting started is smiling. A lot.
Once inside the room, W sat in his usual position: whatever chair the hotel/motel/temporary fuck haven has provided & I made drinks with the ugly purple-ish pink & green cheap cups I’d brought, clunking the vodka bottle clumsily back into the shitty little mini fridge after I was done. I gave B his drink and sipped on mine.
Now to get get from point A to point B, I’d honestly have to have W or B sit here with me while I write this and help me accurately remember. Because of the absolutely enjoyable combination of substances being used, the time between now – the night in question & the general excitement of the whole thing it’s all pretty fuckin’ blurry. We’d found someone exactly as advertised AND who knew his way around. It all resulted in a avalanche of orgasms & being especially obsessed with worshipping his giant cock. I came again and again all over his almost-perfect cock. It worked and worked EXTREMELY well for almost everything he wanted to do to me/have me to do him.
He dirty talked like a pro (and is the reason I realized I LOVE dirty talk), made my pussy wetter than a water fountain with little to no effort, fingered like an especially seasoned lesbian in a back alley at PRIDE & completely ruined damn near all of me in the best possible way. There’s (well edited) video footage of all this out there on the internet so if you really wanna see it for yourself…you’ll find a way.
I’ll admit, what really impressed me with B wasn’t his dick or how he knew his way around my pussy like he’d fucked it dozens of time before. It was the way he reacted to things, his personality & his general outlook on stuff. Easy going isn’t accurate enough a term to describe how well he rolled with everything thrown at him that night. I looked that man dead in his eye and threatened to fuck his mom (though I can’t remember why) with his dick buried as deep inside me as possible and he didn’t even flinch. I’m 80% sure he said something along the lines of “And I’d let you.” Needless to say, he left my pussy, myself & even W (a little bit) impressed. At some point he made me cum so loud W had to turn on the TV and blare some stupid comedy show to try and drown out my moans. 10/10, would fuck again material.
And after the surprisingly shy, vanilla & straight laced Mr. Martini the weekend before, B was a hurricane force gale of fresh air. His sense of humor matched mine, if not W’s, his dick was absolutely nothing short of something created for me to play with & worship and he made me cum in a ways that left me sore for days afterwards. I admittedly left that hotel room on shaky legs and it wasn’t from the vodka.
As we rode home, I think I was the one who brought up asking B to be our regular. The person who we can trust to come over & maintain discretion. Someone we could both trust to take me out alone and still obey boundaries. Someone we both actually liked and for more than just fucking (although, especially that). We both agreed to test him out a little more & see where it led.
W and I got home. I stumbled out of the car, still smiling and trying to adjust my clothes. We got into the house and no sooner than we had walked upstairs I was naked, riding W’s dick on extremely shaky legs, trying (and failing) to keep my moans contained to our little would-be studio apartment. I came hard more than a few more times, climbed off & licked my favorite flesh toy clean then passed out in pure bliss.
W & I knew one thing for sure: B had gotten me addicted to his cock in just one night.