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Du Pont had ejaculated into me three hours earlier on his sofa - and thoughts running through my head of how I'd lain there gasping for breath my legs wide open and my knees resting on his shoulders as he pounded my virginal pussy with his thirty-something year-old naked cock. In one hand I had my Louis Vuitton clutch and in the other my phone on which I'd just used Uber to book a ride to Los Tres Amigos. All the tables at Los Tres Amigos were full but there was space at the bar so I walked up an ordered a Margarita.
Bruce took my hand silently and I let him lead me to his motorbike. He had brought a second helmet and I put it on and got on the saddle and clasped my hands around his tummy. My hurriedly-washed hair was still damp and although I'd stepped from the showed not ten minutes ago, I was already bathed in a nervous sweat. I sat on a bar stool and sipped it, looking around and noticing that I was not the only girl there but I seemed to be the only lone girl there. A figure took the stool next to me and ordered "I'll have the same as my friend, Sara." I looked up and saw the man who had to be Ian. He was handsome but in a normal way - no film star but with a look of intelligence and mischief.
He stroked my pussy and evidently mistook the oozing cum from Mr. His cock was erect and I put my hand on it and closed my fingers around it. I had cum in front of a complete stranger thousands of miles away with my unsuspecting boyfriend slumbering peacefully on. And even though that night Colin was away, I wore headphones and heard them cheering me on while I gasped and panted and brought myself to the most intense orgasm I could ever remember having. Then I went and did it again the next day just to check if it was really as painful as I remembered" This was true.
I bent down and kissed it and then took it completely into my mouth. It was wickedly exciting, and I knew I would want more. I watched them jerk off in front of me - university students by the look of them cheering as each of them came on the floor and swilled down chilled beer as though watching a nightly sports game - which on reflection it probably was to them. I still recall the shock and pain from the tops of my thighs as I found out the hard way that fairy stories aren't always accurate!
Most of my followers here know that I am a married woman in my mid-thirties and that I live in southern England.
Although I have not (yet) been unfaithful to my husband, I have a co-writer on Literotica with whom I share my fantasies, and he helps me write them up into stories.
I knew nothing about how to give a blowjob (Colin taught me all that in the months ahead), but whatever I was doing Bruce seemed to like it. " Fingers shaking, I typed back "Hi Pete." Then added. First time on here." "Welcome, then Hannah." he replied. Over the next few nights I repeated the experiment in front of strangers from Germany (some very late night owls there! The feeling after each of these encounters was the same - a dirty, slutty shaming feeling that I knew would last until the next night when the red blood would once more pump around my veins as I trawled the net looking for my next exhibitionism venue.
On two occasions, I've been mistaken at events for a chassis dolly - the term Formula One teams use to describe the models who are hired to lounge on cars' body works and look sexy. We chatted and danced together a bit, and although he was 28 and I was 17 I remembered thinking he was nice.
I know I am far from alone in having what is often referred to as "the slut fantasy".