The Cum Sluts Truth, Finally We are Agreed SeXStoRY

“Do you ever think about sucking someone else?” I ask it her, casually, as if the concept had just occurred to me. My fingers trail over her hip and then move lower, so that the very tips of my fingers graze her naked pussylips. I bite hard into her bare shoulder, making her squirm, and then I croon the words again. “Do you, baby? Do you ever fantasize about giving head to someone else?” I want her to tell me what she really thinks but I had to role play it with her. Questions like that are loaded. So of course, Tammy being the queen of this type of game just grins and half-shrugs, and moans out the pleasure that she gets from my touch. "Why, would you like to see me do that?" I don’t give away my secrets so easily, so I reminded her about the night we came home all sorts of fubar and she asked me to find a kinky porn to watch and wanted to play our drinking game we made up for porn, I had put on a gloryhole video and she was so transfixed that we never began the game, she had her pants off and her fingers in her pussy within 3 minutes and within a couple more had my cock out and sucked on it a couple of times that night and begging for more, I said wow baby when you are hi you can't get enough, then being inebriated she said,"I love to suck cock when I am in the clouds, I bet i could do it all day." "So, did you mean it or were you just d***k". She paused and thought for a minute or two and said, "I never really think about it as someone else, more just like a cock, thats why that video got me so hot, it was just cock and no body was there, so I guess, well yeah. Yeah I do. Doesn’t every other slut to? I think about the handsom green-eyed man who sits at the counter at the one good cafe in town. I’m always there with my little niece, and he’s always there all by himself. Every Sunday morning at 8:30. All by himself with the paper. He’s older than me by far, silver-haired and well-worn in his jeans and his turquoise corduroy shirt. But he’s good-looking in that tough cowboy sort of way, and he’s strong and straight-backed, and I watch him drink his coffee and read the paper, and I think about him. I dress better than I need to on Sunday morning’s at 8:30, putting a little extra effort into my outfit. I make an effort, and I think he notices. I think he knows I’m dressing for him. When we walk into the cafe, he always looks my way, and I see him memorizing the way I look, as if storing up my image for later use. At least, I hope that’s what he’s doing. Sometimes, I imagine what I might say if we were to find each other all alone together. Maybe back by the payphones near the two tiny restrooms. I try to picture our conversation, try to hear it in my head. Could I tell him I have such a crush on him? No. No fucking way. Not in a small town like this. So instead, I fantasize. I think about him sliding me a note that tells me where and when to meet him. Some place safe. Some place close. I think about him taking off in his car to a beach or a park, even sometimes a warehouse. Telling me to get down onto my knees and suck his cock for him. I am dressed in a carefully prepared outfit, my polished black boots, crisp jeans, white long-sleeved shirt. I close my eyes and feel his hands on my shoulders, guiding me down to my knees. He unzeips his pants and out falls a very nice thicj and long enough, he grabs my right hand and turning it over spits into my palm, he then places my hand on his cock and so I start stroking him. He starts playing with my long brown hair. Then I think about the drop of pre-cum dripping from his cock, I give the tip a kiss, and what it would taste like, and what it would mean. And after that first contact, I think about him pulling on my hair and head. He starts fucking my throat. He would grab my shoulders, then back towards a chair forcing me back down to my knees, and watching me as I really begin to freely start servicing his cock. I think about him grabbing my hair and pulling me forward, hard, so that I just barely have time to open my mouth before his cock slams down my throat. I think about sucking him hard, sucking to the very root of his cock, deep-throating him to show him how much I want him, how much I want to give him pleasure with my mouth. And I do. I want to make him come, want to swallow every drop of him down. I think about him taking his cock out of my mouth, jacking it in his hand while I watch jealously. I think about him rubbing his cock against my cheeks, slapping my face with it, before sliding that length back down my ready throat. Then after i have swallowed and cleaned him up, he hands me a hundred dollar bill and tells me to be back tomorrow, a few of his associates would be in town. He say's that for each cock I service i will receive one of those notes. “Do you ever think about me sucking someone else?” Yeah. Oh, god, yeah. I think about when i watch how turned on you get as you suck my cock, I think about it when i am high and want to turn the porn live, I think about how sexy you would be, and how much love you would have for me to do this while looking into my eyes, using those cocks not for their pleasure but for ours.. To see you let your inner sexual lioness out and take control and open up to the slut side. The look of their cocks next to the softness of yours. I think about the way you watch as i watch you and the pounding I will be giving your pussy afterwards. We then roll played the scenario, I am in the kitchen pretending it is the cafe. Seeing me as she enters the cafe, the way I carefully gaze at her over the top of my paper, never smiling, yet fully acknowledging that I know what you want—we both think about each other. Fantasize, I should say. Because she can see it in my eyes. She can see that I think about her when I come, and this is what makes her dress a little better, and walk a little straighter. The thought of me jerking off to an image of her is what makes Tammy touch myself late at night. That game blends to an action-picture of me fucking her mouth, of me/him using her. I can see this so clearly: she'd be naked; he’d be clothed, his jeans split open at the front, his hands so tight on her, gripping her, holding her. I can feel my cock slipping back and forth between her lips, thrusting hard and f***efully into her mouth, and I know somehow that it would be such a turn on for the both of us. Sucking cock like that with him/them would be everything I think it would. Hard and quick, so that she could breathe again. Fast and furious with a vicious yet delicious climax, his hands on her shoulders leaving marks on her, bruising her with the intensity of his caress. "It’s my number-one fantasy, sucking off this stranger. My favorite bedtime tale that I tell myself again and again. I change the location. I change the position. But the story is always the same. Me on my knees for a man whose name I don’t know, letting him take his pleasure from me." She makes me come every time to these thoughts, my body squirming, my hips rising, and in my head I see her going up to him and saying a slightly altered version of the query my lover asks me: “Do you ever think about sucking men several in a row?” But I don’t have to do that. I know that his answer would be, “yeah.”