Warning! Explicit Content!

I’ve had two days off work. Do you want to know what I have done for those two days? Let me let you in on my dirty little secret: I have fucked, drank wine, ate dinner, laughed, walked, talked, fucked, fucked some more, and fucked a little bit more again. In short, the last two days of my life have been spent between the sheets, or rather, on top of them; and although I’m more than a little sore right now, I have this kind of after-sex glow and a twinkling in my eyes that, let’s face it, just comes from a good old fucking!

Let me set the scene for you: Number 27 on my list, also known as My Mr. Grey, came to see me.

He had a couple of days off and yesterday was his birthday, so rather than going all the way back to the top of the country (a whole 12 or so hours away), he decided to travel the hour and a half to come and see me instead. He booked a hotel, surprised me at work, and although I have always remembered how hot the guy was, I hadn’t seen him for two years … Oh my god, he was fucking hot!

He’s a little older now, 32, I think. He has this sprinkling of grey hairs and a cute little bald patch that usually I wouldn’t find that appealing, but on him, just added to the appeal. He got hotter all over. His muscles were more defined, he seemed taller than I remembered, and when he came into my place of work and gave me a hug, I swear to God, the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around me made my knees actually tremble.

After work, we went for coffee. Then we parted ways for a while. He went to check-in at the hotel and I went home to shave my legs because I’m never totally prepared for a surprise visit from a booty call. I decided upon my prettiest, flirtiest, floatiest dress for our date, and during dinner, he surprised me with a gift – an expensive bottle of luxury lubricant and a set of Chinese love balls that I, of course, had to run to the bathroom and pop in straight away.

That’s the thing with us: we have this unspoken agreement. We’ve been doing our ‘thing’ for almost ten years now. Whenever we’re single (and sometimes when we’re not), he comes down to my end of the country. It usually results in us spending however long he’s down “my way” for indulging in naughty foreplay, mind-boggling sex, and a great deal of laughter.

Dinner soon leads to drinks in the hotel bar, and drinks always end up with him trying to quietly usher me to this hotel room. It was on the way to his room that he kissed my neck and I completely fell apart in his hands. I was drunk, but I can remember that moment perfectly clearly. I’d almost forgotten how good those kisses were, and how powerful, it had been so long. His lips were softer than I remembered, and his muscles bigger and harder, I couldn’t wait to get him undressed! And I got quite a surprise when I did.

He has piercings on his cock, multiple piercings, some of the holes stretched so that I could – quite literally – fit my pinkie finger through the hole. I’m not entirely sure how to explain it, but the piercing goes from under the head right out through his “Jap’s eye”. At first, it totally freaked me out, but after a little while, I realised how hot it was … how hot it could be. I would have so much power with my finger through that hole, leading him, directing him, making him do whatever I wanted. Usually, with him, I never have power. I wasn’t entirely sure I was ballsy enough to run with it but thankfully, I’d made my way through a couple of glasses of wine beforehand so my inhibitions were at an all-time low.

An *all-time* low. 

It was sweaty, messy, empowering, disgusting, hot, passionate, sensual, teasing, hardcore fucking. We had every kind of sex – the best and the worst. It was animalistic in one moment, and completely loving and tender the next. He packed it all in. Literally.

He always starts slow, this time tying me up with the waist scarf from my dress. Then, he flipped me over so the front half of my body was pinned to the mattress and preceded to fit as many fingers inside me as he could. I felt pain, pleasure too, but I could tell he had more than just a couple of his fingers inside me. I like the feeling of being stretched like I’m stuffed to capacity, but no man has ever been brave enough to rise to the challenge before. Nor am I brave enough to tell a man that’s what I want him to do. Not every day, of course, but from time to time, stuffing, stretching kinky fuckery suits me just fine.

“Just remember to say stop if it’s too much, okay?”

I’d never say stop unless I really meant it, so that was our safe word. It always had been, one of those things he insisted upon from an early point. He’s a professional in this kinky fuckery; I am just an innocent beginner. But I really did want to learn.

Despite not wanting to, I found myself needing to say “Stop!, so he pulled back his hand. I had an odd feeling within me, deep down somewhere, a high pressure that felt ready to explode, so I pushed back. For a moment, searing pain shot through my body, and all I heard from the man behind me was “WOW!” I might have told him to stop, but I hadn’t stopped; I’d backed up. His entire fist was inside me and once the shooting pain had dissipated, I came HARD, the fingers of his other hand still working their magic on my clit.

He wasn’t expecting my body’s reaction, nor did he think I’d be able to encapsulate his entire hand in the way I did. He’s got some serious girth to his cock and there are times when I can barely take that, so the fact that I had taken his entire fist in my cunt blew his mind. It also absolutely blew mine.

The rest of the two days are just a blur now, to be honest. I remember some walking and talking during the day, plus wine and dinner at night, then back to his for some hardcore kinky fuckery until the sun came up again. But that’s it. Even when I wasn’t drunk, I felt drunk. Lust drunk. Fucked drunk.

He is my Fifty Shades-style Mr. Grey, but a much better version, and I told him that. I also told him that he does things to my body that I never knew a man could do. Like that thing he does with a couple of fingers inside me, massaging my G-Spot while pushing down on my groin with his other hand at the same time, and it always erupts in the most mind-blowing orgasms during which I gush all over the bed. His tongue is just as enchanting. His cock leaves me feeling unbelievably full and satisfied. His kisses make me tingle all over. I wouldn’t want to change a damn thing.

He rarely comes inside a woman. We’ve always had this bizarre relationship where I know everything about him and he knows pretty much everything about me, so I know when he tells me stuff like that, it’s usually true. He told me that it had been a year since he last had, and I believed it wholeheartedly. But last night, I was on my front again, body pushed down into the bed, face shoved into the pillow, ass right up in the air, when I reached my hands behind me and spread my ass for him to enjoy everything. I knew he’d like it, and it was mere moments before he exploded into me with such force I could feel everything. Every contraction, every spurt, every throb, every shudder.

I can’t even remember exactly what we did in bed for the rest of the time. I was in a daze for most of it. I remember bits and pieces, like when I draped myself across the bed and took his cock in my mouth. And when I toyed with my clit as he played with my nipples. Imagine the best sex that you ever had in your life, combined with scary sex; sex that you like but never had the balls to try. It was scary, but it was also so much fun. There were moments where I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, but he has this amazing way of knowing just how to soothe my nerves and encourage me to go just that little bit further.

I can’t count the number of climaxes I’ve had over the last two days, but I know I must’ve had many. My cunt is so sore, it hurts just to pee. My stomach muscles feel like I’ve done a thousand crunches. Even my butt muscles are sore from all the climax-induced tensing and clenching. It feels like I’ve run a marathon. A sex marathon. And my face has this shiny pink glow to it like I’ve enjoyed a few wholesome days in the great outdoors.

Oh, and just before I forget to tell you, I managed to take his entire cock in my mouth, deep-throating as far as I could go, and apparently, I’m the first girl to manage it.

This is what my whole day has been like so far: scattered, no sense or order, my brain is a mess. I’ll be doing something completely mundane, like having a conversation with someone, and out of nowhere, I get a flashback that makes me blush from head to toe. He’s addictive. The way he makes me feel is addictive.

He’s gone back to work now and I feel a bit… empty. I don’t even remember being THIS attracted to him before. He told me about other girls he’d seen or was seeing, and I shared the various rendezvous’ I’d had over the past few months; and one thing stood out to me: I was jealous of those other girls for the first time ever. I always used to enjoy his stories, looking at them as a kind of morbid foreplay, but now those tales make me angry. I’ve developed feelings for this guy. Real feelings that I don’t think I’ve experienced for him before.

I’m not going to do anything about it, of course; it would destroy the way we are and I wouldn’t change us for the world. One thing is for sure, though: if he came to me and swept me off my feet with a promise of the happy-ever-after, I would totally jump into it wholeheartedly. It really makes me think … why haven’t we tried the REAL relationship thing rather than just naughty hook-ups every couple of years?

For now, I’ll be more than happy to put the last two days in my sexual wank bank. I miss him already. My pussy sure doesn’t; I don’t think I could even touch it just now. But my body and my heart are craving him. Waking up the past two mornings, naked and tangled up in his arms, was heavenly. The way he lightly stroked his fingers down my spine to rouse me, along with the gentle kisses he placed along my neck, was like something out of a movie. I wish I could have that all the time.

It’s time to get back to reality. Back to work, back to being single. Back to dreaming of a life with My Mr. Grey where I get fucked like that all the time … or at least more regularly than I have been. I think everyone should have a Number 27 in their life – that one guy (or girl) that drives you bonkers and knows your body better than you know it yourself.

I hope you all find that person.

It’s almost worth the heartache of knowing you can never have them all the time….

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