My Friend Has Hyperspermia

Last night was a banner night for me. I saw Brent for the first time in almost six months. We stopped hooking up because he just had some things to figure out for himself but we hadn't talked since then. A few days ago I was reading stories about a guy with hyperspermia and I just got so damn horny and needy for a gigantic hot load of cum that I texted Brent the next day and things took off between us just like that they had been before. I told him that I had never stopped thinking about his giant loads, which was true, and he said he had never stopped thinking my blowjobs. I know that's also true because no one has ever had a better blowjob than mine.

So I texted him for the first time on Thursday morning and by the afternoon we had agreed that I'd go over to his place on Friday night. Reading about guys with hyperspermia and about how often they cum I realized that I had never talked to Brent about it. I never thought about him needing to cum any more than anyone needs to cum, but I asked him about it and he said he almost always cums twice a day, because he just needs to unload to be comfortable. That alone made my head spin (among other physical reactions) thinking about how much cum that guy has to give every single day and how much I wish it all belonged to me. It just seems like it would be part of the perfect balanced breakfast, waking up every morning to his need and desire, his pretty cock and his big heavy balls needing relief, swallowing his cock, the way he grabs my hair when he's about to cum, and feeling his cock throb in my throat while he feeds me that huge load of hot delicious cum. Every fucking morning.

This morning I asked him if he had been jerking off or if he was saving it all for me and he said he hadn't cum since Thursday morning, that he knew how much I needed it all. I remembered the times when he said it been two or three days since he had cum last and how insane those orgasms were. Knowing that that's what I had waiting for me that night made the day just excruciatingly long.

My panties were wrecked by the time I got home from work. Thankfully my boyfriend was home and when I told him how desperate I was to cum, how anxious to be with Brent again, he happily stepped in to help. He ate me out and fingered me until I came twice. The first orgasm, as it always does when I'm out of my mind horny, only made me need more, but the second one calmed me down a little, at least enough to last until I got to see Brent.

For the next couple hours I was able to act like a respectable person, for the most part, and not just a cum-crazed freak, but when it came time to get ready my body just went into overdrive. I had a dilemma. I get very (very) wet and my pussy is so slutty. It has betrayed me many times when I don't want to let on about how horny I am. I had planned to wear a white strappy tank top and lilac shorts that hug my ass with a white thong. As my mind fixated on what Brent was going to do to me I realized that my pussy wasn't going to have any regard for my clothes, especially since I had a fifteen minute drive ahead of me to his place with only one thing to think about. Fuck it, I thought, we know what tonight is about. I ditched the thong. If I soaked through my shorts by the time I got to his place then so be it. It was going to be dark and no one was that likely to see me, and if you opened the door to your slutty fuckbuddy with her hard nipples poking through her top and a big wet spot on her shorts, and she greeted you for the first time in six months in a whimpery little voice saying, "I need your cum so fucking much," I bet you wouldn't shut the door on me either.

So that's just what I did. That drive may have been the longest fifteen minutes of my life and on my way I realized I had forgotten to put on the pink lipstick that I had picked out just for him but when I looked at him with my needy eyes and he was as handsome as ever and I told him how much I needed his cum, and he pulled me inside and shoved the door shut behind me, let me tell you, fierce only begins to describe our hungry kisses and grabbing hands and heavy breaths and clothes coming off and the naughty, nasty things he said to me when he touched my wet shorts between my legs, and the way I couldn't possibly live another second of my life without his cock in my mouth.

My blowjobs deserve to have epic poems written about them but for now I'll just say that he immediately got the very best that I have to give and I don't what happened for him in the last six months but I didn't remember him being such a fantastic dirty talker and when he said, "I've dumped so many loads wishing they were on your face," his words made my mind melt and the rush of lust and wet felt like this is the reason I'm alive, and I popped off his cock just long enough to say, "This isn't the only time we're going to do this, is it," and he said, "I hope not," and I popped off his cock again just long enough to say, "Good. I need you to fuck me but you can cum on my face tonight and then you can fuck me tomorrow," and went back to slurping on his cock. I looked up at him with wide eyes, smiling around his cock, massaging his big, heavy balls with my hand. He said, "I wanna cum, Kylie," and I moaned and took his cock all the way down my throat again and again. He grabbed my hair nice and rough just like I remembered and then he let go and he moaned and his hands were on my cheeks and I looked up at him again and he looked so desperate and I knew I had him, needing so so very much to empty that load that he saved up for me but not wanting this to end.

I took him all the way down my throat again, holding him there for a few seconds and then, looking up at him and with my lips tight around his cock, I let him slide from my mouth so slowly until only the tip was between my lips. "You need to cum, baby," I asked, bouncing the tip on my tongue. He could only nod, the poor guy couldn't even make words anymore. "Then go ahead. Cum all over my face, just like you've been dreaming of. Then you can come over tomorrow and fuck me. Deal?" He nodded again and I giggled. "Give me that cum, Brent." I checked to make sure my hair was still tied back. "Cum on my face," between sucks, "I need it so fucking much," more sucks, "I've been craving it," more, "Give it to me," and he grabbed a fistful of my hair, hard, groaning. I felt myself slip right back into the place I had found only with him, this sexy handsome man who knew just how to talk to me and grab me, who knew I could define part of my very being as being a slut for his cum, his, his enormous loads of hot cum, the desperate feelings we share for his orgasms, to cum and to be the canvas for his cum.

He pulled out of my mouth, fast, and grabbed his cock, and for a second everything felt wrong, I needed, I needed, I needed, I needed his cock, I needed his cum, and for a second I had neither, and I could feel my need physically in my chest and I thought about jumping on him and shoving him down on the floor and slamming my cunt down on his cock and leaning over him and biting his shoulder while he came so deep deep inside me, feeling like he was filling my whole body with his cum, but it was only a second of such desperate need and visions of pouncing on him like a frantic female animal who needs his cum to survive lasted only a second until he came.

He came.

He came.

Do you understand me? He fucking came. He came on me. And I don't know if time stopped or moments like that are what keeps the world spinning but I do know it is the literal essence of life, not just his fucking cum, but being the lucky grateful recipient of it.

If you haven't seen a man like him cum then it's hard to describe the beauty, the intensity, the goddamn importance, the overwhelming all-consuming amount of his fucking cum from those big beautiful balls and that glorious thick cock, but when he starts to cum I swear on everything righteous in the universe that it's like a damn firehose, this crazy thick strong jet of hot cum and he got me first on the chest and then he was up to my chin, my mouth, my face, and I wanted to drown forever in this man, and then it's these big shots, big ropes of cum as he stepped back a bit, shooting more on my face and on my tits, and I wiped my eyes because it was so fucking necessary to watch this man's orgasm and finally finally finally it slowed down and he slipped his cock between my lips again and I moaned like it was food and I was starving and I was going to get every last drop he had to give me and when he had had enough, I felt my whole body relax in a way that only happens with the best sex, the most relaxed blissed-out feeling possible, and I wiped the cum from my eyes as it ran down from my forehead and I felt it all over my body and I looked up at him, hopefully, with all the gratitude I could show.

We stayed like that, me on my knees totally covered in his cum, him standing over me, and it's in those moments that I feel like the truest, deepest version of the woman I am meant to be. Sure, there was the aftermath, the cleanup, the appreciation, the kisses, the kisses that led to his fingers inside me, my orgasm, the way I sucked his fingers clean, the promises to fuck the next night, the promises to do all of this again and again and again and again.