He laughed, continuing, “Fuck, she’s nasty. I told her that I didn’t know if my boss would be into it, but I did have a friend that would be. She asked a few questions about you and got horny from the answers. She’s down to suck and fuck and is waiting for you to text her. She knows me as ‘Jesse,’ so be sure to use that name with her.”
After we hung up with each other, I got a single text with a single phone number in it. For the next six hours, I tried to stay focused on work but failed miserably. All I could think about was a dirty talking fuck slut with whom I could empty my balls using her whore throat. I kept my cool until 4:00 pm and then I sent her those two texts asking if she could “help me out.” It wasn’t until 11:00 that night that I got a reply from her:
HER: I can definitely help!
I responded immediately.
ME: Let me know if you’re up for a play date tomorrow morning.
My phone rang. As soon as I picked up, she said, “Tell me I’m a dirty whore.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I growled out, “You’re a dirty whore.” Immediately, I could feel that this statement had the force leaving my mouth and hitting her ear like a throbbing hard cock pushed forcefully into a wet and willing mouth. She moaned loudly. This was me in my element, and if she wanted to play this game, she had found an expert partner.
“You’re a filthy bitch who is going to drain the cum out of my balls with your slutty little throat tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she moaned softly. “Yes, I am. And yes, I will.” My balls tightened, and my cock swelled in my pants at the thought of her mouth and throat submitting to my engorged member and my most animalistic urges.
After a brief discussion of the details for an early morning rendezvous, she abruptly changed the subject back with, “Tell me I’m a slut again!”
I spit out each word with such force that the intent couldn’t be missed, “You’re a filthy disgusting slut, and I’m going to use you as my cum dumpster! You know you’re a nasty fucking whore, so why make me say it?”
She moaned. I could hear a vibrator. “God, I hope you’re real,” she whispered.
“I’m real,” I said firmly. “And you’re going to feel how real in a few hours. Get some sleep and be ready for my stiff dick getting forced down your whorish throat.”
She moaned again and this time, it was a long, drawn-out one that I assumed meant I was hearing her orgasm.
“Send me a picture,” she said softly and then hung up.
I managed the best selfie I could in my night clothes and shot it off to her.
—–
It was just after midnight by this time, so I climbed into bed and turned out the light, but I was too excited about thoughts of what was soon to happen. I had a feeling that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and I went right on having that feeling for the next five hours, continuously tossing and turning and turning and tossing. By 5:00 am, I was done trying to sleep as it was time to get up and start the drive. My cock had stayed stiff the whole time.
I threw on some running shorts that I knew would be easy to drop and pull up. On the way out the door, I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone, shooting a text off to her:
ME: My cock has been dripping pre-cum since we talked. I need my disgusting bitch to milk the spunk out of my dick with her hot, wet, and willing mouth. Be ready for me at 6.
Then, I switched over to text my friend, so that somebody would know what was happening with me in case something went wrong:
ME: We connected. She’s hot to trot. I have exactly the kind of potty mouth she wants, it seems.
ME: I’m off to pick her up here at 6…
I dropped a pin on the map and sent it to his phone. What I was worried about exactly, I couldn’t say, but this was far enough outside the realm of normal that I wasn’t assuming everything was going to be rainbows and unicorns. I could get robbed. Or assaulted. Or carjacked. Now, he would know where I’d be, when I’d be there, and who I’d be with. For my part, I only brought my keys, my driver’s license, a $20 bill, and a condom, the latter things went further and even better than presently planned — a rare rainbows and unicorns moment of hopefulness making an appearance in my thinking at that moment.
After climbing in my car, I started it up, pulled out of the driveway, and headed out to find my Blowjob Queen.
We had arranged an early rendezvous across town: she’d be waiting at a darkened bus stop at 6:00 am, at least 30 minutes before the sky would be starting to brighten. The drive was uneventful, and though I arrived early, she was right where she said she’d be. I pulled up beside the bus stop and rolled down the passenger side window.
“Sophie?” I asked of the faintly illuminated silhouette. As she stood up, I saw pale, slender legs extending from under a loosely fitting, light-colored flowing skirt. A maroon hoodie completely covered her medium build and was pulled over her head. A disposable surgical mask covered her face. She approached, and I could see a hint of green in her eyes as she spoke my name. I unlocked the door for her. Once she was safely inside, I pulled away from the curb, blissfully unmolested by any traffic on this side street.
“Turn in here, and you can park right under that tree,” she motioned to a few parking spots completely shadowed from any light and facing the side street we were just on but partially obscured by sporadic hedges. In short, it was a great spot to see but not be seen. I pulled in and shut off the engine. Her hands were caressing my cock through my shorts in an instant.
She started to bend over the center console, zeroing in on my crotch. I stopped her with, “Let’s get in the back, so we have more room.”
We both exited the car and arrived in the back seat at the same time. I stood up as best as I could and reached over the front seat to lock the doors, feeling her caress my ass as I did so. Before I sat back down, I pulled my shorts and underwear down around my ankles in one swift motion. I looked at her again but could see nothing more than the clothes and an outline of her figure. The hood was still over her head and the mask, still on. The fingers of one hand traced lightly over my limp cock.
Again, I heard her say the familiar words, “Tell me I’m a dirty whore.”
Not wanting to start slow, I grabbed the back of her head and forcefully pulled her face onto my flaccid member. She flipped the mask under her chin and engulfed me in her mouth’s warm embrace. I held her head against me firmly. Her tongue darted around various locations on my cock, and I started to swell from the sensation.
“You’re a dirty fucking whore! Now, show me what that slutty mouth can do.”
I released my grip on her head to let her do her job, and she did it well, bobbing up and down the length of my seven thick inches with a quick rhythm. It was nice that she took the hint on getting to the job at hand. I slumped down in the seat so I could better see her lips stretching to accommodate my girth.
It felt incredible, but it started to bother me that she was deepthroating my entire length with every stroke and not gagging at all. My cock was completely slickened with her spit. I could feel it coating my balls and dribbling toward my asshole. And I could hear very wet noises emanating from her mouth and throat, but she hadn’t gagged once. The thought triggered something primal in me. Something I tended to shy away from embracing. Something forceful. Something aggressive. Something dominating.