Dirty Talk 3

I had had to wait 2 months for my second ever fetish night and I simply couldn't wait. I was also a little cautious - having had one of the wildest nights of my life the previous time, I couldn't see how this next one could possibly live up to it. Actually, I was right to be cautious. While my trusty friends were there, the two fantastic couples who we'd all so enjoyed playing with (and who'd had all the equipment) were nowhere to be seen. But it didn't shape up as too bad a night. We had some good exhibitionist fun on a big bed in a cage in the main dungeon area. Being whipped with my friend's new assortment of whips whilst having my brains fucked out by her husband is always going to be absolutely fantastic. Being called into the cage to play with a beautiful rope-tied girl was also a sweet experience. On top of that, there were odd bits of interesting watching to be done. I'd not seen people play with electricity before and hearing static charges coming off a naked woman's skin at the merest touch was intriguing enough.

But none of these things are what I want to write about today. If that disappoints you, make a special request to me and I may reconsider. What I want to write about is my most surprising and most titillating experience of the night. Fun had been had and time was ticking by. Two o'clock came and went and I half settled on a final glass of wine and an early get away. My husband (who'd not been wanting to miss the excitement this time) and I were standing watching an attractive younger couple fucking vigorously against a table. As ever in settings where single men are present and there is no physical barrier, they were surrounded by a handful of guys, all with their cocks out, all wanking away in the vain hope they may get in on the action. It never happens. Some of these guys are of questionable quality (I know it was a "High Seas" theme, but what WAS the guy with a mackerel fisher hat thinking of???). However, there was one guy I had been eyeing up all night. Mid-thirties, just tone enough, with a bit of a rugged look to him. Not many guys can pull of a tight latex top without looking camp, especially if it's got the word "slut" written on it. He managed just fine. As the couple finished fucking, he drifted over in our direction. This was looking like a good opportunity.

I had decided to go risqué on the outfit front that night: black boots, fishnets, split crotch panties and otherwise nothing more than a black gauze shoulder throw which I'd tied at the back, no bra. Not only did it show off my beloved new Cherry Blossom Tattoo, it also showed off my breasts fairly favourably. As my husband put it, any breasts hinted at under black gauze are going to be a pleasurable sight. It certainly seemed to work for slut guy - or perhaps like me he was just keen on seizing a final opportunity of the night.

"You have lovely breasts!" he said and moved alongside me.

I nodded to encourage him to touch, something he was already on his way to doing.

He still had his other hand on his cock - a self-evident gesture, wearing a kilt as he was.

My hand joined his and I said: "And you have a nice cock!"

Actually he did have a rather nice cock. Not quite my friend's belly-wrenching monster, but beautifully thick and a perfect length.

I added: "And I could really do with a final fuck for the night."

I'm not always so outspoken - I wish I was. In this instance, I really was still very, very horny. Rope-girl's partner had had some erection issues and ended up just working my clit with vibrator, whilst she was being vigorously serviced by my darling husband (good for him!). My session with my friends was more than two hours ago, I had not cum all night and I just needed to fuck! Any nice fuck would have done but I really fancied this guy. So when did I know that this was going to be a good one? Well, it was at precisely this moment:

"So do you want me to fuck you like a good girl or like a bad girl?"

I smiled, pleased. There could only be one answer to this.

"Like a bad girl." I said, my voice a few notches lower than usual, drawing out the delicious little word "bad". Oh, don't I ever love it.

"And your partner, he's going to watch?"

I looked my husband in the eye. We understood each other. I nodded to slut guy. Half a minute later he had discarded his kilt and I what little I was wearing, other than the fishnets, and we found ourselves in my favourite location of the night: the exhibitionist cage. I did the first thing, I will always do when I play like a bad girl. I dropped to my knees, folded my hands behind my back and popped his cock into my mouth. It WAS a nice cock. I looked up into his eyes.

"Mmm, you're a proper little porn star."

I smiled internally and sent a fond thought to the one who'd taught me just that. I ran my lips along the shaft to moisten the cock in front of me, sliding my head up and down, slowly at first, then faster, never breaking eye contact.

"I want you to take me really deep", he said. I made an affirmative noise.

"When you do that, do you gag?" That question brought another affirmation from me.

"When you gag, I don't want you to hold back or swallow, I want you to spit right here on my cock.Ok?" Affirmative again.

I started to work him more deeply, taking his beautiful fat cock right to the back of my throat. I knew he'd be perfect, any thicker and I couldn't have taken him that deep. I love to gag on a cock. When I did it first, I couldn't get over the fact that I actually liked it, the sheer physicality of it, the way it makes my eyes water and my make-up run until I look like some wild thing. He hit the back of my throat hard and I felt the muscles there start to contract around him. My eyes screwed themselves shut, but I continued, I kept working through it. And again. My stomach heaved and I started to taste the acidity of the wine flushing back into my mouth. I pulled away and swallowed. Yes, I will spit that rich thick, deep throat saliva over you, but anything else - no. I kept working hard, unpleasant acidic taste now filling my mouth. Does that appal you? It doesn't trouble me, all part of the deliciously filthy, earthy experience. I looked up at him again.

"Ah, it's making your eyes water." He smiled at me. "I wished I'd met you earlier tonight. I could have taken you around the club and made you suck every cock, cunt and arse around here. You'd love that wouldn't you, you little whore?"

"Mmmm", I hummed, with his cock back in my throat. I was adoring his filthy talk. Sometimes it's like I wait for somebody to see through me, pull me up on the entirety of my outrageous, greedy, filthy nature. It's a bigger turn on than any physical act could ever be. I pulled up a long way and brought my head back down on him with a swift rotation. He moaned. Pull up, drop and rotate. Pull up, drop, rotate. On each pull up, I just fractionally resisted with my teeth. I kept working, speeding up until he was hitting the back of my throat hard again. I could start to feel it tightening again. My stomach heaved, I pulled away swiftly and swallowed.

"No, don't swallow, I want you to spit it on my cock." I shook my head, making non affirmative noises this time. I caught my breath and looked at him.

He reached for my hand. "Get up!"

We stood facing each other. He looked at me and said:

"I'm going to ask you three questions and I only want you to answer with yes or no."

I nodded.

"Do you want me to fuck your pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Do you want me to fuck your arse?" My eyes fractionally widened.

"Yes!!!" God, why don't they always ask that?!

"Do you want me to use a condom?"

"Yes."

"Get on your knees."

I located myself on the bed and held on to the wrought iron head board. Through the cage bars I could see the people who had assembled around us. But I had little time to look, as he'd already put on a condom and pushed into me with one swift stroke, holding on to my hips. He started fucking my pussy with good, strong strokes, sending me moaning loudly, holding on to the bed frame. He pushed into me and held his cock deep.

"So you want me to fuck your arse?"

"Yes!"

"While your man is watching?"

"Yes."

"I think, he needs to hear that, don't you?"

"Yes." A wave of that peculiarly pleasurable shame washed over me. I wondered what was coming.

"I want you to say: I want you to fuck my arse!"

"I want you to fuck my arse", I said, still half out of breath.

"Louder, or he's not going to hear it, is he?"

"I want you to fuck my arse!" I said a little more clearly now.

"Louder!!!"

"I want you to fuck my arse!!!" I shouted, so that the rest of the dungeon would hear me quite clearly.

He pulled out, brought his hand down to my wet pussy and smeared my copious juices over my arse. He took hold of his cock and started pushing against my tight opening.

"Easy!" I whispered.

"What, too much for you?"

"No, just slow to start."

He pushed more.

"Easy, easy..." I pleaded quietly.

"You will get what you're given!" he responded, but slowed it down all the same, as is cock nudged its way deeper and deeper into my arse. Eventually he settle into me to the hilt and started moving against me.

"Get down all the way", he ordered. He pushed my head down, leaving my arse stuck high in the air and my face pressed into the bed. Then he started fucking my arse in earnest.

"Stroke your clit!" Well, that was a novel order to me, but one I loved to comply with. He thundered into my arse, as I was now screaming with pleasure. Few people ever fuck my arse as hard as I like it and as hard as I need for my brain to go spinning.

He pulled out, spun me over and changed condoms, all in much of one smooth movement.

"Hold the corners of the bed!"

I stretched out my arms to leave me strangely spread-eagled, as he reinvaded my pussy. I was thrilled now, he'd taken me exactly to where I wanted to be. I stared at him, ecstatic, wild-eyed, provocative. He looked back at me. Smack! His hand connected with my face - just tentatively. I nodded encouragingly.

"You like that?"

"Yes!!"

Smack! He thrust into me hard, barely interrupting his rhythm to smack my face. I moaned, clutched on to the bed, lifted my head towards him, keeping contact with his eyes. Smack! His hand connected and droplet of saliva landed on my face. He had spat at me! My instinct was to spit back, but he was too much of an unknown quantity for that.

He got off me and lay down on his back.

"Come sit on me!"

I thought he meant for me to ride him, but as I moved to do that he gestured for me to sit further down, clamping his thighs and stroking his cock. We smiled at each other as I stroked his cock.

"How many cocks have you had tonight?" he asked.

"Three... no, four."

"Let me taste all those cocks on you! Come up here!"

I moved upwards to come to sit on his face. As I did so, I could feel him stroking his cock behind me. I ground my crotch down into his face, rubbing my clit against his lips. It didn't take him long to cum and for droplets of his warm cum hit my back.

I climbed down from his face and lay down next to him.

"Right", he said, "now I can be nice to you."

I propped my face up on my elbow and smiled.

"Actually, I rather liked you being nasty to me."

He looked at me quizzically and asked:

"Where are you from?"

"Germany originally", I answered.

"Warum hast Du das nicht gleicht gesagt? Haette ich gewusst, dass Du aus Deutschland kommst, haetten wir auch Deutsch sprechen koennen!"

Epilogue

Back in the car I settled into the passenger seat. It was 3 in the morning and it had been a pretty successful night. Sure, I hadn't been tied to a post and been pleasured and hurt by half a dozen people, but it would be more than a little greedy to expect that every time. Just one thing was still niggling me - the lack of an orgasm. Whilst I can cum pretty easily by myself or with a dedicated, familiar lover, in more complex or novel scenarios there is usually too much going on for me to even try. Add even a pinch of performance anxiety and you may as well forget about my orgasm. So I don't stress about it, but at the end of a big turn on night, I appreciate some kind of conclusion. So I did what I frequently do on the drive home from a club: I placed my feet on the dash board, grabbed my trusty bottle of lube and started stroking my clit. I let my mind drift off to words, sounds and images of the night. Still, I was struggling a little - caught somewhere between tiredness and the urge to cum. So I decided to talk to my husband.

"Was I bad tonight?"

He grinned. "Yes, you were a very good bad girl!"

"Did you hear what the guy said to me?" I asked, eyes closed, fingers still strumming away on my clit.

"I think the whole room dungeon heard that!" he answered with mock outrage in his voice.

"Were you appalled?" I was a little more breathless now. Talking to him was just giving me the edge I needed.

"I was disgusted to have such a dirty slut for a wife!"

"I'm sorry!" I said in a tone of faked embarrassment. "He said if he'd met me earlier, he would have taken me around the club and made me suck every single cock, cunt and arse in sight."

"You would have loved that, wouldn't you, you dirty little cunt?"

"Yes!" I groaned under the building pressure in my cunt and just as we pulled up by a traffic light next to a lorry. I closed my thighs for a moment and checked whether the driver was looking down my way. All safe! As we pulled away, my fingers resumed their busy work. I closed my eyes again.

"What would YOU have got me to do?"

"Hmmm", he said, "I would have taken you around and shown everybody exactly what kind of greedy whore my wife is. I would have shown them all your greedy sopping cunt and arsehole and asked them to probe it however they liked!"

I was quite far gone now. I grabbed the bottle of lube, shoved it up my pussy and stroked my clit for all it was worth. I was building, building and building, fingers getting faster still. I hovered on the brink until a fierce contraction ripped through me. I groaned out loud, my body buckled for a few seconds and then came to rest heavily in my seat.

"Good girl!"

"Ah....Thank you!" I said through a light-headed haze.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then I heard the sound of his zip being pulled down.

"See what you've done to me now, you dirty cunt?"

He took my hand and placed it on his hard cock - it was dripping in precum. I started stroking him gently, as we hit the motorway and continued our journey home. I kept working him lightly and we recounted the night's events, what had turned us on, bemused us, what had been lacking.

"At this rate, we're going to have to pull of at the next services and fuck!" I chuckled.

He groaned under a particularly nifty manipulation of the edge of his glans. Don't I ever know how to make him jump. "At this rate, I don't know if we're going to make it that far!" he replied.

I eased off a little and it wasn't much longer until the exit to the service station was in sight. We pulled off and onto the car park. Bad plan! The car park was quite brightly lit and covered in a smattering of lorries that had pulled up there for the night. This wasn't going to work out. We pulled off the car park again, but rather than returning to the motorway, my husband turned the opposite way, towards a stretch of fairly empty countryside. A small lay-by marked the entrance to a dark field.

"That'll do!" he said, as he parked the car.

Seconds later he'd pulled his pants down fully, I'd whipped off my jacket and clambered across the gear stick. He slid his seat back far enough for me to fit between him and the steering wheel - just! I sighed as I slid my sopping wet, post-orgasmic pussy onto his cock. I held him tight, our bodies pressed together, and started moving up and down on his cock. He groaned beneath me. My booted legs squeezed his naked thighs and I rocked harder in the confined space. I buried my face in his neck, covering him in greedy kisses and brought me pussy down firmly on his cock. It didn't take much. He buckled below me and exploded into my cunt. I rested there breathlessly for a couple of minutes.

"Let's go home!"