'Cock Guy'
Only now, clinging on for dear life as Taxi Maniac follows Cock Guy at speed along the streets, do I consider "What the fuck am I doing?". I'm being led by my puss in the same way most guys are led by their cocks. Okay yes in a way I'm being led by a cock, or the sight of it, in that alley. You know what I mean. Stop being awkward.
I haven't even figured out what I'm going to do. He was getting calls. What if it's his girlfriend. His wife? And he's going home to her because she's all warm, or hot, given his smile, in bed. Waiting. Like my puss is. Do I just follow him in and say "Fancy a fuck?" in the hall, before you get to her? My puss is thinking out loud "Yes that would be nice!" and drooling still.
Instinctly my fingers find their way over the soaked nylon mesh and fine lace of my panties. Caress the clinging wet material and the sensitive flesh beneath. Surprising myself at how open and welcoming I am. I could so easily wank myself silly again but would that detract from fucking Cock Guy, when I catch him. If? Puss isn't so easily deterred. She'll have both, thanks very, and quick about it! Her taut, hungry muscles twang like snapping fingers demanding attention. She gets it, the heel of my palm against my sheathed mound, and my nails almost tearing through the sodden mesh. Puss pushes back. Squeezing round my small penetration. Ache pounding up and down her. My swollen clit like a small tongue, lapping at my fingers. Her mouth pouting urgent need.
I'm gnawing my lip again, almost drawing blood in an attempt to not moan out loud above the taxi engine. I'm so roused, my eyes close and the image of that fantastic cock lit briefly by that flash races through my mind. My puss purrs appreciatively. Hold that fantasy girl. Because I am. In my moistness and heat. She ripples like hot jelly at the possibility of gripping that cock. Of running molten lust back and forth over it. And of feeding on the sizzling spunk he would shoot into her.
There's a jolt, and my fingers jar painfully in so I almost come. My eyes flutter open to see Taxi Maniac staring at me still. How much did he see? Do I care?
"Why have we stopped?" I whisper.
"Why do you think?"
The other taxi has pulled over on the other side of the road and Cock Guy is getting out. My stop too. Taxi Maniac holds out a grubby hand and I give him the twenty.
"Keep the change." He's actually appreciative, as we haven't gone that far. His tip would have watching me anyway. Bet he doesn't get much of that either.
Cock Guy walks into the dark of a small house. There are no lights on so hopefully this means he's alone. But for how long? Is she there in the dark waiting? Was she asleep and wondered where he'd got to. Why am I asking myself all this? I should just go over there and find out. I've come this far.
It seems an eternity as I cross the road. What will I say? I might as well tell the truth, as it's no stranger than any weird improbable excuse I can muster. My heels clatter up the path in the silence. My breath is fast in short pants. The doorbell is like a scream in the dark.
There's another eternity of wait before a light flicks on through the small frosted door window. I turn to my puss for inspiration. An excuse. She just shrugs back "Your call. honey". Thanks very. Not.
The door creaks open and there, yes, is Cock Guy. My eyes are lowered, trying not to meet his enquiring gaze as my mind races for something, anything, to say. And of course all I can see, my eyes burning through the fantastic bulge of his jeans, is his cock. As if you needed telling. It must still be hard. I'd like to think the sight of me, standing there, might make him harder still.
"Yes?" He enquires.
If that's the answer, the question is "Fancy a fuck?" but I just come out with "Hi.". As if that explains everything. As you do.
"I don't suppose you... remember me?"
There's a shake of the head but also a smile. "I'm sure I would have."
"In the club." Another shake of the head. "Um, and... behind it. In the alley?"
It's too dark to tell if he's gone white with realisation. But he doesn't seem to be smiling quite as much.
"Alley? You... were... "
"I'm sure I remembered right." I pipe up hopefully. And lower my voice. "Nice cock."
I don't know if it's because he thinks his neighbours would overhear, at 1am in the morning with all the windows and curtains closed, or because he is dragging me in to ask "Fancy a fuck?" but there I am, in his hall, door slammed. Face to face. Cock to puss, if I mentally strip us both standing there. And I already have. I can smell the scent of my puss carving its way through my perfume and bodyspray. He must notice it too, surely.
"How much did, er, you see?"
I crane up and whisper "All of it." Tempting to add "Fancy a fuck?" there, as it seems like the right time to insert it. If you take my meaning. But I want to hear why.
And why is what I get. It's for his girlfriend. Oh so he is attached. Shame. But she's not round and he's just looking after her place while she's away, and so there's someone home when she returns. So they don't live together. She'll be back tomorrow night. Things are looking up for this night then. And, when my hand reaches across and grabs his cock through his jeans, I found out how very much up a certain thing is.
Now seems the right time.
"Fancy a fuck?" Eyebrows raised. A hopeful smirk. Oh, and my hand still on that fantastic feeling bulge of a cock.
It's funny. Guys will probably cheat on their girlfriends or wives if they think they're not round but to have a girl actually say "Cheat with me now". Not a relationship but just a one-off fuck, you'd think they would jump at it. Not Cock Guy, even though he is obviously begging for one. And she isn't around to catch the outcome.
I haven't let go of him. His cock. Nor do I intend to. I squeeze my assertion so he whinces. It's not as if I can blackmail him into a fuck because the photos are for his girlfriend. A thought pops into my head.
"Have you sent them yet?"
"What?"
"The photos. For your girlfriend?"
He shakes his head.
"Send them."
"Huh?"
"To her. I want to know what she thinks of them. What she'll ask you to do if she were here."
I'm still gripping his cock so he doesn't have a choice really. He fumbles in his pocket for the phone and thumbs a number. And a quick message, But not for help. I have to smile inwardly at what he might text. COCK BEING HELD BY MAD HORNY GIRL. SEND HELP. BUT NOT RIGHT AWAY. LOVE etc.
There's a ping to say it's sent, and while I wait I press Cock Guy against his hall wall and bury my tongue in his mouth. With his cock still held hostage in my fingers, he's pretty choiceless again. I even get the impression he's enjoying it a bit, if the size of his cock growing and throbbing through the denim is any judge.
There's another ping and Cock Guy fumbles for his phone while I taste his tonsils just a bit more, then peek to see what Cock Guy's Girl has texted back. I'm impressed. It's pretty filthy. And detailed. She must be a pro texter to get all that in and so quick. Where and how. It's like Google Sex. Just search and get answers. Nifty.
"So where's the lounge?" I ask. He nods down the hall to a door, so I lead Cock Guy by his cock in there. He doesn't seem to be resisting quite so much now.
I flick the light on, and there as described is the sofa mentioned. I can imagine, from the detail in the text, Cock Guy and his Girl fucking on it. Using the cushions and back to aid every position imaginable. His Cock, which my palm is still relishing, deep in her. Her pussy sucking him back in and relinquishing it for a moment before wrapping itself round his thrusting shaft again. My puss wants to wrap itself round it too. As if that hasn't been obvious from the start.
With a deft move, i unbuckle his belt and half spin him on the sofa so he's sprawled there. I kneel between his legs and undo his jeans as fast as my puss demands. Tug the denim down and round his knees. He's wearing boxers, which bulge even more from within under the thinner stretchy fabric. The pinnacle of the bulge looks as wet and sticky as my panties and tights. Gasping for it, I'm sure.
I grip it again. Press my lips to the wet cotton over the tip of his cock and suck hard. His body goes as stiff as his cock with shock and pleasure. I nibble. Gnaw. Taste. And then, as he relaxes, I pull the boxers down, his arse rising politely to let them slip away down his thighs, his bare cock is revealed in all its fantastic glory. I run my tongue up it. It tastes even better than it looks. Smells clean, in a slightly soiled by pre-cum way, that just adds more pleasure. One thing for a guy to show how horny he is by how hard, far more to see the tip dribble because that's like me being wet. Innate. Primal. A thing we still have no control over. And control is about what both of us are about to lose.
To be continued.
