Saturday Story 28 May 2022

Espresso Love (...with a euphoric slut)

"It's not just espresso love, I'm crazy for this girl..."

-- "Espresso Love", The Dire Straits

Slut.

Cum bucket, skank, cum dumpster, slag, whore, cock socket, cock sleeve, bukkake bitch, piece of ass, trim, bang-tail, chav, puppet, bimbo, good-time-girl, spunk receptacle.

Woman.

Slut.

There is nothing mutually exclusive here as all the terms mean the same thing. At least in the eyes of those who utter them, and whom they condemn with these terms. What's funny about it all at the end of the day, is these folks -- majority male -- are scathing in their utterances with you within seconds of getting themselves off with you. Relieved of their stress, by you, they now feel guilt and the burden of shame of having to come to you to unload a weight they could not resolve via any other means that fit more comfortably into their world, their sense of the norm.

I'm older than you, and maybe that's why what we share works? For this moment in time, anyway. I do not possess the territorial possessiveness that drives the beating heart housed within the younger of my sex. Those days are very thankfully long past.

You're a slut. You wear this badge, this life designation, not as an accessory, but as a true point of pride. I love you for this.

The video you sent to my mobile yesterday -- when I had to cut our day short -- your baby blues tearful and bloodshot, you straining but determined to take that stranger's twelve-inch monster of a cock all the way down your throat, was insane. You struggled, I was laying odds you were going to pass out around those last inches aching to be engulfed and properly attended to. Your eye contact never wavered; I felt as if I was there, encouraging you, knowing all too well you could do this. You needed to do this. And then that monster cock was lost from view and you kept this thing deep, deep down for an eternity. The look in your eyes at that moment when you reached your absolute threshold as the bull erupted was a moment of true beauty -- a healthy amount of his viscous seed finding escape through your nostrils. You were still on that edge of passing out when you dutifully lapped up all the spunk that escaped your ravaged throat, swallowing it, taking it down into you, bonding it to the very essence of you.

Vividly, I remember the first time you allowed me to violate you anally and the wetness and the pain -- and the gradual crossover into sublime mutual pleasure experienced during such an unholy act. The room was dominated by the musky scent of your cunt. The deeper I was able to explore within that taboo place, the more you opened up.

Hotter, wetter, faster, harder...

The rest of the night, after we both climaxed -- you shivering to the touch in the intensity of the aftermath -- me, of course, doing my go to thing and unloading a week's worth of my of my seed on as much of your face as I could. My erection never withered especially when you used a single finger to guide every bit of that mercurial essence down your face, past your lips and into your mouth, and into you. Your never broke eye contact when you swallowed.

My job sucks, trust me, I know it! I know it separates us far more than I should allow, but I am admittedly a coward in that department. I am only dominate when it comes to you.

I do appreciate the fact that you always do spur of the moment things when it comes to me. Most of them are mysterious -- amazing things that allow me some insight into who you really are. Not who we "try" to be to each other when we go on dinner dates, or who we pretend to be when we hang out with your friends one night, or my friends the next or even in those nights we have to ourselves and we are not truly sure how to be honest with each other -- outside of what we do best in the bedroom.

Those moments when you are unabashedly spontaneous, and comfortably you shows me the real you. Today while I was at work, rummaging through my backpack for a pen, instead discovering the thong you wore all yesterday, speckled with a generous mixture of most intimate essences of your femininity. I enjoyed the fact that at the same time I was uncovering this most desirable treasure, you were in your morning meeting, in close proximity to your coworkers, enjoying your go to mango smoothie spiced with the copious amount of my semen extracted skillfully by you, and saved, over the past week.

I could not remain disciplined as my thoughts were centered on your throat and how I can feel every convulsion of your inner muscles along the entire length of my shaft as you so generously take it all down. And hold it down longer each time. I remember when getting it all the way down seemed like reaching the moon for you. Then it happened, then you kept it down for a second or two, before being overwhelmed. You cried because you felt you had failed. Maybe you weren't a slut after all, and maybe this wasn't for you?

I took your throng with me to the men's room, locked myself in a stall, wrapping the thin garment around my engorged member and jerked myself to completion. Fantasying about you wearing these same panties on your face as I fucked your ass and shot my load inside. You removed the garment from your face only so you could slurp up the spunk that leaked out of your sphincter and congealed on the floor beneath you. It didn't thrill you and I thought I crossed a line -- took things too far...

I stil honestly do not know what changed your mind as I was sure that was it and we were done. Two or so weeks later, you dropped by, we talked and then my cock was further down your throat then ever prior, to the point where you were dangerously close to the edge -- but you were euphoric.

The retching sounds of you gagging, the ruined makeup coated with your saliva, the all-enveloping wetness of your cunt as I fisted you to orgasm and erupted with a torrent of spunk all over your face was a new level, even for us. The fact that you showed no interest in cleaning up -- you left for work in the morning with a delicious sheen of dried semen for all the world to see on your face -- told me neither of us had reached the outer limits of personal boundary.

For whatever reason, I've been thinking about that first dildo we bought. You know the one, we got it for that weekend we spent at the swank-posh hotel in the East End -- not too far from the Ripper's old stomping grounds in Spitalfields -- the thick bastard that exclusively resided in your anal canal for what...? Two, three months...? That was the phase where you weren't really enjoying getting off unless there was something thick, long and girthy pushed as far past your sphincter as possible.

I think that's when we met Will...? Correct me if I'm wrong -- it's a while ago, and Lord knows the drink has slowed my brain, but I am pretty sure Will and I were the combo of dudes who you felt comfortable with enough to do your first double vag and double anal...? Obviously, you would know better than I, but I am pretty sure we were the first in you in such a fashion. I at least like to think so -- it's a guy-pride-prowess thing I suppose. Lol.

I do remember that you had to have a couple more glasses of Pinot than you normally do to steel yourself for that particular encounter, but you did it and you owned the show. Will and I more or less just did what you told us to do, and we did -- but I did insist that he and I both had to coat your face with our combined cum. You begging us to wash the spunk from your face with our piss -- you, breathless from exertion, climaxing again as the hot liquid enveloped you, as if from hoses. Your cunny wet enough to accommodate your fist as you pounded away at yourself, swallowing our bitter fluids like the blue-eyed, blonde fuckdoll that you are.

In the morning, a little after Will made a quiet, almost secretive exit (not sure we'll ever enjoy his contributions again, sad to say...but, there will be others to help me satisfy your primal needs...), you sleeping soundly in a t-shirt, your soiled and crusty boy-shorts inches from your flush face as I approached, my cock in hand, hard yet again. Stroking it, rubbing it lightly over your lethally irresistible face -- spreading an even glaze of pre-cum over your lips, cheeks and eyelids, my cock growing ever harder. Your boy-shorts at my lips, filling my senses with the dank, buttery femininity some even kill for. I let go of my manhood, resting it gently across your face as I reach between your thighs, the heat from your labia greeting my fingers as I slip the meaty lips of your gateway apart, gently pressing down on the hood of that pierced clit. Your wetness increasing, leaking from your cunt as I pull, gently at first, then harder, the stud that bisects your whore trigger. Still you sleep through, though your heartbeat rises, small, sharp, raspy breaths escaping your lips -- still unsure if it's all just a seductive dream...

My fingers and palm now a mess of your fluids, I return to stroking my cock, your natural lubricants smoothing skin and raised veins as I part the lips on your face, first inserting a finger to gently open your jaw, then stuffing your panties between your teeth. Oh God, I'm close now -- so I stroke faster, remembering the day I fucked your face into exquisite wreckage while you were defecating in a public toilet, before fucking your ass as soon as you finished and blasting millions of sperm into the now vacant carnal canal -- I can't hold back any longer, my head spinning as the first of a dozen streams of my spunk splatters across lips and hair, thick pools of it sealing shut your eyes, painting your cheeks in liquid pearl...

You awake now -- rising from your slumber like some deviant fuckslut Cinderella -- pulling the boy-shorts from your mouth, tongue and lips slurping up all traces of spunk from the material, your hand wrapping the delicate material around my still-hard member. Opening your eyes now, not caring at all about the acidic blindness as cum greedily coats your pupils. Your posh accent, when you speak, begging daddy to make you squirt, brings me dangerously close to a fresh, new eruption. Only if you leave my cum to dry on your face, and gag as hard as you can on daddy's cock, my luv.

In a millisecond, my privileged unit found a home among the constricting muscles of your throat -- your cum, piss, shit-stained panties wrapped tightly around my balls to help me last a little bit longer. I can't let you win this time, my desolate angel...

Turning you on your side, exposing your throat, looking deeply into the abyssal blue pupils of your watery, bloodshot eyes. My hand wrapping tightly around your throat and the bulge of my piston lodged firmly in your esophagus. I refuse to move, holding it in place far longer than you've ever experienced -- a fantasy of murder by throat-fuck dancing in my mind -- the thick, wet slaps of my other hand abusing your gushing cunt. The room smelling now like an ocean of fermenting cunt.

I pull out completely -- you sucking in air like fish out of water -- as

my fingers, first two, then three fucking your battered and tender g-spot. Feels like I'm gonna break my goddamned wrist as you convulse and push down harder on my digits. As you suck in another desperate breath, my snake darts back into your mouth, jamming down into your throat in one swift motion. The gagging sounds emanating from you now more frenzied and raw than anything I yet heard from you and it spurs me into a savageness never dreamt of before this moment. Your eyes never breaking from mine as I try to fuck the life out of your face, telling me that you can take it -- that you want it...

I'm close to losing it, even with you pulling your panty-trap tighter around my swelling sack, this is the most challenging thing I've experienced in a lifetime of debauchery. Even back in my younger days when I was banging porn stars in Chatsworth -- even they were much more inhibited then you when the lights weren't up and the cameras weren't involved. I flip you over on top of me, one hand holding your head firmly in place as I ravage your face and throat with my manhood, the other buried in that beautiful, reddened snatch, hammering away -- and my brain explodes as a flood of semen erupts straight into your stomach -- and an overpowering shudder rocks your body as you careen over the edge, my spent cock now twitching along the edge of your lips as you unleash a white-hot storm of briny slut-spunk over my face and upper body -- a feeble, "...fuuuuuccccckkk..." escaping from the depths of your soul as you bathe me generously with your life-giving essence...

I pull you up to me and I look at the wasteland of your face and hair -- covered in a potent mix of both of us -- and I know I've never loved you more than I have at this moment. And we kiss, deeply -- my tongue swirling with yours -- we share our combined offerings, snowballing back and forth. We sleep gently and unwashed after swallowing -- content and truly comfortable with each other and ourselves.

Later at Duke's and brunch with Aimee -- that brown-eyed cock-glove from your office pool and her wet blanket of a boy-toy -- my cock found the strength to harden again. We hadn't even showered and I know I smelled like a Victorian knocking-shop, you reeking like you just walked off the set of 20 man blow-bang -- Aimee knew. Her eyes kept lingering on the more visible spunk stains on your face and neck. Vivid imagery flashed in my mind -- some future night with your fuck-toy coworker restrained, one of your wands wedged against her abused clit, taped in place on full-tilt boogie -- her body convulsing like a live-wire of energy -- me filling your mouth with a copious amount of my wicked seed -- you spitting half of it in her face, saving the other half to lubricate the monster dildo you pull from the depths of her ass, before jamming the brute to the point of no return down her throat -- and my still hard unit sliding first into your sphincter than your gushing box...

The images faded -- to be saved and savored at another time. As I got up to pay the check, I wondered what we would get up to tonight...? I know it'll involve that collar wrapped so tightly around your throat...