He was rolling a spliff. He seems to do that a lot (more than me) so clearly I’ve got myself a boyfy with a drug habit. Always a Brucey-bonus. Anyway, it was the afternoon after the night before and we’d eaten the bacon sandwiches I had ready and waiting for him when he got home from running his errands. We’d drank the teas I’d made too and were getting ready to stoned-Netflix-and-chill the crap out of the rest of the afternoon. He’d taken his shirt off and was sat on the edge of the couch, hunched over his little makeshift ‘rolling table’. I was laying flat on my back along the length of him behind it, the duvet covering me, still wearing his boxer shorts and oversized t-shirt I’d thrown on to run to the bathroom the night before.
“I’m really horny. You’ve only taken your shirt off and sat next to me and I’m already wet.”
I’m not really a big talker when it comes to sex so this was a pretty brave move for me but I kinda get the sense that with this guy I can ask for what I want and probably get it too. I wanted him to fuck me. I’d been fed, I’d been watered, he’d left me on my own and I had to keep myself entertained for an hour and a half. Now I wanted to be fucked.
“Show me. Slide your finger into your pussy and then slide it into my mouth. I want to feel how wet you are and I want to taste you right now.”
I giggled because that’s what I do. I’m a mood-ruiner.
“Kitten, show me how wet you are.”
He started to put down the joint he was expertly rolling and I got the impression I’d be in for a world of torturous torment if I defied him. For once I didn’t want to be playful or teased. I just wanted to be fucked. He knew that now and if I didn’t do what he wanted, he wouldn’t fuck me, he’d just play with me. He didn’t even need to say the words, he just had that glint in his eye. I love his eyes, a beautiful chocolate brown with the crinkly laughter lines all around the edges. They give away so much, it’s almost as if I can read his thoughts just by looking into them.
Under the duvet so he couldn’t see, I continued to look right into his eyes as I moved my hand beneath the waistband of those boxers and between my legs, lower and lower until I could feel my heat, easily gliding inside myself, stroking a moment for added measure. He smiled because he can read my eyes too, opening his mouth and poking out his tongue a little, prompting to taste me. It was the smallest thing, the smallest touch, sliding my finger along his tongue, and slowly and delicately feeling his mouth closing around it. Knowing he was tasting me on my own finger… That was hot. Super hot. I felt throbbing deep down, an actual throbbing, that’s how hot it was. Even hotter was when he guided my hand down again, sliding my finger inside me, pulling it out and then placing it on my own tongue, kissing me at the same time.
He fucked me slowly but deliberately, making sure I felt every deep thrust. He fucked me until I came hard, encouraging him to find his climax, pulling out right at the last minute and covering me. I watched him this time, I wanted to see his strained facial expression and watch the growls come out of his mouth. There’s something very hot to me about watching a man explode like that, mouth open, unable to speak or think or anything, just hand pumping hard and fast around his cock, eyes glued to mine.
Everything about him is hot. Everything. The way his collarbone glistened with beads of sweat as he jerked himself off in front of me, the way his eyes closed shut really tight, nose scrunching up right before his mouth opened and he made that growling noise again. Everything. I could watch him do that for hours. I want to make him do that over and over and over again. More than that, I want to make him cum inside my mouth. He did but at his hands, not by my oral skills. He didn’t let me suck his cock for more than a few minutes before pulling me up, a move which frustrated me greatly. And it really is the most beautiful cock, one I very much appreciate and enjoy. It’s as though it fits perfectly in my mouth, probably around five or six inches long, beautifully thick and veiny. He’s not circumcised which goes against my perfect penis ideology but it doesn’t matter, it’s perfect. It’s just what I both wanted and needed, and when I took it deep in my mouth right down to his balls, swirling my tongue around them and then his shaft on the way back up, he made that growling noise. That’s my reward – that noise he makes. That noise affects me in ways I don’t even understand.
He does things to me, this guy I can’t find a name for. He sits down next to me and just looks at me in that way where his eyes smiles yet his mouth doesn’t and that’s it, I’m screwed. Done for. My underwear floods and my breathing changes. I can feel my face flushing. It’s a nervous anticipation, nervous because I don’t know what’s coming next and every time he touches me I seem to learn and feel a little something new, but excited all at the same time because I already trust him to do whatever he wants to my body. I’ve trusted him up until this point and so far that has worked very well in my favour.
There was no point to this blog post. I just had to write it down. He’s in my head and I’m already fucked. That guy with the hypnotic chocolate brown eyes.
Maybe that should be his name?
Mr. Brown Eyes.
Brown Eyes for short.