One idle Friday morning, while browsing an online chat, I stumbled upon a woman seeking a man who fit a very particular description. Though the odds seemed slim, I couldn’t resist reaching out.
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“Hello, I saw your post…” I typed.
She responded, and soon we were deep in conversation. The exchange grew increasingly relaxed and intimate, our curiosity about each other blossoming.
Eventually, she asked for a photo.
“You want a picture of me? Alright, I’ll send one,” I replied, sharing a candid shot of myself on my boat, casually dressed—nothing flashy.
Moments later, a disappointed emoji arrived from her.
“What kind of picture were you hoping for?” I asked. “Send me one, and I’ll return the favor.”
She obliged, sharing her own photo, a fiery redhead with a captivating smile.
“Adorable. I’ve always been drawn to redheads,” I confessed.
“Oh? Have you been with many?” she teased.
“Not nearly enough,” I admitted.
Our playful banter continued, each message weaving a stronger connection between us.
When the day to meet arrived, I showed up early, securing a cozy booth. She arrived promptly at 3:30, radiating confidence and fitness—clearly someone who cared for herself meticulously.
She slid into the booth across from me, cocktail in hand while I finished my beer. Our conversation flowed effortlessly. She stepped away briefly, and when she returned, she shifted to my side of the booth, inching closer. Her hand found my lap, exploring until she grasped the unmistakable hardness growing beneath my pants.
We soon agreed to continue our encounter somewhere more private. En route, we discussed boundaries and desires, ensuring mutual comfort.
Arriving at my home, she scanned the surroundings with a pleased smile.
“This is your place?”
“Yes,” I replied, sensing the surreal nature of everything unfolding.
“Let’s go inside.”
She hesitated only briefly before releasing my length and stepping out of the car.
Inside, I complimented her as she eased the straps of her sundress down, revealing ample, enticing curves—about a 34DD—and a pair of white panties adorned with tiny cherries that perfectly matched her playful spirit.
I took a seat on the couch while she slipped off the panties, revealing a small tuft of red hair above her intimate curves.
“Come here. Sit,” I instructed.
She climbed onto the couch beside me, but I interrupted, “No, on the floor.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered obediently, kneeling and reaching for me.
I playfully swatted her hand away and stood. “You may remove my clothes now.”
“Yes, sir,” she echoed eagerly, undoing my belt, shirt, socks, pants, and underwear until I stood fully exposed, engorged and ready.
“I’ll be right back. Wait here,” I said, leaving briefly to fetch massage oil.
Returning, I found her waiting as instructed, mouth open, tongue extended like a perfect target.
“Good girl,” I murmured, watching a shiver ripple through her.
“You like being called that, don’t you?” I teased.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Then do exactly as I say. Stay on the floor and stroke me slowly. Take your time. I intend to enjoy every second.”
“Yes, master. I’m your toy,” she answered, oils glistening on her hands as she began to stroke me with increasing confidence.
After nearly an hour, I was ready to release.
“I want you to catch my cum on your breasts.”
“Yes, master, please coat me,” she pleaded.
“Wait. Take off your wedding and engagement rings. Place them on your breasts—that’s where I want to make my mark.”
Without hesitation, she slid off both rings and placed them on her breasts, then resumed stroking.
“Excellent,” I encouraged. “Now cover them.”
Her hands moved faster, supporting my balls as I released volley after volley, drenching her chest and rings.
She beamed, covered in my cum, like she’d just won some secret prize.
“Well done,” I praised, admiring the mess. I picked up her engagement ring, drenched in my release, and handed it to her.
“Open.”
She tilted her head back, mouth agape, tongue extended. I slipped the ring into her mouth; she cleaned it expertly, then held it between her teeth.
I swapped it out for her wedding ring, repeating the process swiftly, then dipped the engagement ring back through the cum-soaked flesh and returned it to her mouth, once again perfectly clean.
“Fuck, I’d have so much fun with you,” I thought.
I handed her a towel and sank back onto the couch, flipping on the TV.
“I need a few minutes to recover, but you can suck me like the good girl you are.”
Another shiver. She dropped to the floor, folded the towel on the coffee table and ignored the mess on her breasts. She lowered her head, began licking and sucking me clean.
Within ten minutes, I was fully hard again.
“Grab that pillow. Put it against the wall. Kneel, place your head against it, and hold your hands above your head. I want to test your oral skills.”
Without hesitation, she obeyed, mouth open, tongue out once more.
“Good girl,” I praised again, running my hands over her trembling body.
When I reached her breasts, I rubbed the cum in, then handed her my fingers to lick clean.
Moving lower between her legs, I noticed how soaked she’d become, clearly enjoying every moment.
“Use your fingers,” I commanded.
She plunged them inside herself eagerly, teetering on the edge.
“Do not come unless I say.”
I pressed the tip of my cock to her mouth as she drooled, the anticipation nearly unbearable.
“Master, may I come?”
“Not yet, slut. My cum matters more.”
“Yes, sir.”
Pushing deeper, I reached the back of her throat.
“I can’t,” she gasped.
“Not yet. Relax. Let me do the work.”
Back and forth until finally, my cock slipped past, resting just beyond, giving her a moment to adjust.
“Good girl. I’m proud.” Her face lit up with pride as her fingers worked her clit faster.
“Open.”
Shallow strokes warmed her mouth.
“Ready?”
A hum in response.
I began slowly throttling her throat, each thrust pushing deeper until her nose pressed against my stomach.
For ten minutes, I fucked her mouth, then the pressure for release built.
“I’m going to fill your slut mouth with my cum. When it hits, you may come.”
She looked up, tears glistening, relief clear.
I drove harder, unloading a thick torrent into her eagerly awaiting mouth. She trembled, convulsing around my cock as her hand pleasured her.
“Such a good little cumslut,” I praised softly.
She stayed on the floor, sucking every drop clean for several minutes before opening her mouth.
“Fuck, that was incredible.”
“I agree. We should do this more often.”
“I have a husband. I can’t keep doing this.”
Her reluctance was thinly veiled; we both smiled knowingly.
I drove her back to her car. We kissed. I squeezed her breasts in the parking lot before pulling away.
“Wow,” I thought as I drove home, “what an amazing experience. I wonder if I’ll see her again.”
It didn’t take long for my thoughts to be answered.
A message buzzed:
“May I cum, master?”
“Should you be driving?” I teased.
“I am, but I need to explode again—I can’t stop thinking about your cock deep in my throat.”
“I’ll allow it, but this time, imagine my cock sliding inside your pussy for the first time…”
“Thank you, master.”
Minutes later:
“Thank you. That was amazing.”
“Good. Now go home and kiss your husband.”
“You’re bad.”
“I know.”
“But yes, master.”
I couldn’t wait for our next encounter…
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