Desperately Seeking Cock

This update is a few days later than promised, I’m afraid. A cold that has been doing the rounds wiped out the weekend, and on Tuesday when better, an interesting opportunity presented itself for a future slutty encounter. As such, I was busy exchanging flirty messages with a guy I hope to be getting far closer to in the next week or so. You’ll read about it here if it materialises.

For now, though, I’ll carry on with the story of how I got to the point in time where I’d decided to become a fully-fledged slut, and to tell the world about it in a blog.

You’ll remember that I was used as a sex object by a married man in a club and - quite the opposite of what I would have expected – that I found myself extremely turned on by it.

At the time, I had bought my first computer and was finding my way around the internet. Since my mind was buzzing for a week thinking about what I had experienced, I surfed widely to see if this new toy was capable of getting a single girl some hard cock. It goes without saying that the options were plentiful.

I had come across a chat site on Yahoo which seemed packed with young guys on the lookout for an easy lay, and I spent many a night flirting outrageously with quite a few of them. The conversations became red hot at times, and I’d often find myself fingering my wet pussy in between typing filth to a willing recipient.

If you ever used such sites in or around 2002, you may remember the Yahoo one as it was designed as if we were all on a large boat, with your deck level and ‘rank’ rising the longer you were online. There were also private ‘cabins’ where a couple could scuttle off to for a more intimate chat.

I did exactly that quite regularly with a 25 year old from Milton Keynes. He knew exactly how to get me worked up describing what he would do to me if we met, and in turn demanding that I describe what I was doing to myself while he was talking to me. He wanted it all in detail as I frigged my hot snatch to orgasm, often five or six times in succession. He was confident, dirty, and had me doing everything he commanded without question – just as I was increasingly realising I like to be treated.

Then he said he wanted to come and meet me!

I was hugely excited by this, but well aware of the warnings to be cautious, so I arranged to hook up with him at the same club where my previous humiliation had occurred. It was public so I could see what he was like in real life first, plus was little more than a normal pub early on which enabled us to talk properly. I had also taken the precaution of bringing a strong male friend along (someone I hadn’t fucked, but the me of now probably would have done) to be in the background just in case. Being there early also had the benefit of entering without bouncers being on duty – if meeting a new bloke, I would have been nervous enough without having the extra obstacle of walking past guys who had witnessed what a slut I’d been publicly a few weeks earlier.

He arrived on time and we chatted for a while but there wasn’t much to say that we hadn’t already discussed online and, since we both knew why we were there, I invited him back to my flat after only a couple of drinks. I gave my friend the nod to let him know all was ok and I would speak to him the next day. I left him happily dancing on the dance floor with a very attractive brunette.

As we left the club Paul walked me to his car, held open the passenger door and asked me for the directions back to my place. As I waited for him to get himself sorted in the driver seat, I had a sneak peak into the back seat, there sat a small rucksack which I later found to be sleepover clothes. He hadn’t planned on going home then!

My stomach started turning over with excitement, I was going to have another naughty encounter, this time, I was going to get more pleasure and satisfaction. This guy was not married or otherwise attached. We were going to have fun.

The journey home was awkward, there were plenty of silences, I think we were both wondering what was going to happen when we got back.

I showed Paul to my flat, I hadn’t finished closing the door behind us when his hands were all over my body and he pinned me up against the door kissing me passionately. He had a very large tongue which filled my mouth in seconds.

He pulled away and asked if I had anything to drink, all I had in the fridge was a cheap bottle of Lambrusco Rose (well, what did you expect from a slut, Dom Perignon?). I got the bottle and a couple of glasses and we sat on the sofa and started to drink. My stomach was still doing somersaults as my mind was in overdrive at the thought that I was going to have this guy between my legs before the night was out.

We finished the glass we had before he made his move again, leaning forward to kiss me. I took his hand and led him upstairs.

We went into my bedroom, started undressing and climbed into bed. Both of us naked, our hands touching, exploring each others bodies. He lay on top of me, kissing me before he made his way down my body and finished off with his head in between my legs. He had told me he was good at oral, he wasn’t wrong.

As I lay there with this attractive man lapping at my clit I found it quite difficult to orgasm, I kept having thoughts of how bad this was running through my head. In hindsight, I was still shackled by convention despite, deep inside, knowing that I was electrified by the filthiness of acting in a wanton manner. I had a lot to learn, but then that’s why this is being told as a lead up to what I am today, and not an account of how I became the finished slutty article.

I had to do something, so I faked an orgasm. Once I had finished fake climaxing, he snaked up my body until his rock hard pole was level with my wet hole. I eagerly grabbed hold of his cock, really wanting to feel him stretch me, and was just about to put it in when he asked where I kept my condoms.

I was crushed. I had hoped that we wouldn’t have to use them as I really wanted some of this potential stud’s cum in me. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent that we used one. I reluctantly pulled one out of my bedside drawer and handed it over to him. He unwrapped it and asked for me to put it on. Hmm, nice touch, I thought with my submissive self kicking in.

I looked at Paul in shock horror, he asked if I had ever put a condom on before to which my answer was no unless you include the sex education lesson I had at school where they showed us how to put one on a cucumber. Paul laughed and explained how to do it.

Once the condom was on, he lay me down and climbed on top again. This time when I grabbed for his cock he gently pushed it in. He was a gentleman (more’s the pity from my present day mindset).

Paul kissed me and looked at me the whole time we had sex. After time, his thrusting picked up pace before he climaxed with a loud groan. I’d only met him in the flesh just over an hour ago, and here he was spunking in my willing pussy.

He pulled out, rolled off me and asked where to put the condom. Being the unwitting servant to men that I now know I am, I took the condom off of him and disposed of it in the bathroom bin.

It was getting late, naked in bed, chatting and smoking. I had a knot in my stomach though. The sex was good, the kissing was good, but I hadn’t cum. We shared a cigarette, I snuggled up to him ready for sleep secretly hoping he would wake me up later in the night to go again … before he pulled away, got out of bed and started dressing!

I asked what he was doing and he told me he was going to sleep on the sofa. This hit me like a brick. He was sleeping on the sofa?!

After what we had just done, he said he didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in my room, in my bed. I gave him a pillow and a blanket, hoping deep down he would change his mind. He didn’t.

I cried myself to sleep, I had been used big time. Again.

I awoke the next morning, went downstairs to find him still asleep on the sofa. I made myself a cup of coffee and stood in the kitchen staring out of the window, ashamed of what I had done the night before. I was brought out of deep thought when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist and lips kissed the back of my head.

I asked him what he wanted to eat or drink, before obediently making him tea and toast. We sat in silence whilst he enjoyed it, and I pondered why I was serving a guy in my own home without even thinking of myself.

He took his plate and cup into the kitchen, went upstairs to get washed and dressed, then came down told me he had to go. He kissed me softly on the lips, thanked me for the previous night, told me he would be online later on that day and left.

I spoke to him later on that day, with this churning inside me. He was cool, calm and collected.

Used, abandoned and worthless was how I was feeling. Looking back now they are feelings I relish, but then this was the start of something.

I spoke to him online around three years later when I was hooked up with my master. I remembered him well enough, but he didn’t have a clue who I was. And you know what? There was something hurtful, yet strangely arousing about that.

Especially since my Master fucked me mercilessly for being such a slut with a guy who couldn’t care less about me. I’ll take punishment like that any day of the week. See, even disappointing sex is good for someone like me who craves cock and cum in regular supply.

Talking of which, my next post will be about what happened when I met my filthy and gorgeous Master just a few weeks later.