Finally

Literotic asexstories – Finally by lysistrata29,lysistrata29
Such is the nature of a memory, that it shifts even as you look at it. Hence this story is full of tense issues, queries about whether things happened in that moment, that way. Sometimes the sentences are moments in themselves, with loose anchors to the timeline. Often the tenses jump, somehow some memories are more easily expressed in present tense, some in past. But it is my way of recording a real life reawakening, and it is written for Sir and his slut more than anyone else. A way of sharing what I experienced. Perhaps he will co-edit/author and it might develop into a more accurate remembrance. But for now, this is how it is. Not a story, with easy to develop transitions, easy to describe exact hand placements, but a thousand snatches of memory from one night, where I refound my inner slut and let her fly free.

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I am waiting for you. I hate waiting, usually, but this waiting is filled with delightful sensation. My whole body tingles in anticipation. In my requested position, at the agreed time, I present and fix my eyes on the door. I’m ready for everything tonight could bring. Ready to finally be your slut properly. I’ve made the choice, I am here and giving myself to this moment entirely. Everything is in place, and now I hand over control. To you, to Sir.

I had made choices already, I’d had my things ready at work for days, sitting in the corner waiting to come with me today. On the train journey I’d reread every hot message that had led to this moment. I’d showered when I got here, and the whole time I could feel my clit pulsing in anticipation – I didn’t touch though, knowing it wasn’t allowed. I dressed in a silky black thong, lacy black halterneck front-opening bralette, which presented me rather beautifully even I could admit, and over the top a halterneck baby doll – red and black lace on the breast, sheer black below. I rimmed my eyes with thick eyeliner, knowing you’d be watching it run soon. You’d left a chair in direct line of sight of the door. I knew I was supposed to kneel next to it as soon as I walked in the room. And so I knelt there now.

And then a knock, low and rhythmic. I have a moment of confusion, and then click that it must be you and you can’t get in. Unless it’s a test – or someone else. But as I walk over, I get confirmation. As I open the door, I stand behind it, just in case anyone happens to be passing. And so here you are. Putting the do not disturb sign out, locking the door. There is a moment, so brief, where your eyes assess mine, and I know you’re checking I’m okay. You must be happy with what you see in my eyes, as they drop to my body, a twitch of your lips betraying your pleasure. My pulse is racing, and I lean lightly against the wall, not moving, as you shed bags and outside things, and we exchange a few words I barely take in. The moment I’m about to get I’ve conjured in my mind so many times – and call it foreshadowing, but I was usually at the door not kneeling, as I’d prepped to be. I’d rubbed my clit til I came while thinking of the moment you finally got me alone. And here it was.

Here you were, before me, kissing me, encompassing me, and all my breath left my body in a rush. Your hands were on me, exploring my curves properly, without having to hold back, and even though for a moment I paused thinking of still obedience, I couldn’t help but let mine on you, and finally. It’s a blur of electricity and pent up need darting between our lips, our skin, through our fingers – somehow my leg ended up wound around you, pulling you into me, as you pressed me into the wall, my hands on your back and ass as yours roved up my side, and you squeezed my tit, learning I really was more than a handful. I can’t decide if my memory has you tightly squeezing my nipple as we kissed, making me suck air quickly in and still for a moment. After a while, we break away naturally, with a half-laugh recognising the moment, and catch our breath – mine shudders a little, and I unwind my leg. It was more of a hello than I was expecting, seeing as I had been waiting on my knees, but I’m grateful for the moment. You enquire after where I had been waiting, and something in me clicks back into place – I don’t hesitate, and my walk the 5 or 6 steps back to my kneeling place feels like it has a sway to it, I feel sexy and I hope you like what you see – but I know you’ll avail yourself of a willing slut no matter. I turn and drop to my knees next to the chair and fix my eyes on you, head ever so slightly lowered, my chest gently rising. My pulse races.

You come over, looking down on me, possibly briefly hold my face. I rub your cock through your jeans, and ask permission to take them off, which you grant with a nod. They are undone and shed, and then I am rubbing you through your briefs, holding my mouth up to your head and breathing hotly on it, but I am impatient and ask for the next layer off, also granted.

I know I wanted to say ‘finally’ when I got to your bare cock, whispered, with my mouth around its end. I don’t remember if I did it or not. I was too focussed on discovering your cock. Taking you in my mouth slowly at first, tongue swirling around your head, glancing up to you, before sinking down your cock and proudly sucking it all in. You pull your t-shirt up and then off as my hands roam across your body. Feeling the stretch of my lips around your girth, your head nudging the back of my throat, and staying there. Everything I’d promised, I knew in that moment I could deliver. Your cock is just too big to be comfortable in my mouth, and that will offer us both some wonder and enjoyment.

I gave my utmost to your cock, worshipping it as I had been dreaming of doing for months, teasing and lavishing it with my tongue, fucking my own face with it, spit freely flowing around it from each gag I provided, each moment I choked myself onto your cock. As your cock keeps hitting the back of my throat, your hands go into my hair, not commanding yet, just urging. Later you’ll tell me you noticed how soft it was. And then you take control – your hands tighten in my hair, and you fuck my face and it fills my mouth and I give my first hole entirely to you, spit streaming down from my mouth onto my tits. You choke me with your cock again and again, thrusting hard into my throat, your head hitting the back, blocking my breath, my eyes tearing with the onslaught.

I remember gasping for air and looking up at you, entirely destroyed for your pleasure, and fucking loving it – it was then I knew that I had never been properly face fucked before – every other interaction did not have this, was tame in comparison. I am in your power completely, viscerally. The thrill that comes from the powerful thrust into my throat, feeling it hit the back painfully, my mouth filling with cock, then my nose closed off too by how deep you’re holding me. The loss of control as my eyes stream and my mouth overflows with saliva. Then being pulled off, looking up at you and seeing how hot you thought I looked in that moment. Knowing you wanted that mental picture, eyes watering down my cheeks, makeup running, saliva falling onto my tits, flushed and gasping for air after Sir took it away with his fat cock. Knowing there’s another mental picture to come. Plenty more.

You move to the chair, and I shuffle round on my knees to follow you, and I think it’s then you reach out and caress my tit roughly, before leaning back and nodding towards them – and I pull each out for you, presented to you, pushed up by the bra and babydoll gathering beneath them, and you murmur approvingly. Do you play with my tits at this point, or while I was sucking your cock – do I remember another pinch of a nipple? Perhaps the fact I can’t specify it shows how focussed I was on you. I set about my task again with glee. My fingers gently roam over your balls and legs as I learn which tricks my tongue does you like the most. I show off a little, staying impaled on your cock for as long as I can, indulge my inner cock sucking whore entirely, letting that oral fixation rule, thriving from the moans and murmurs of pleasure that come from you. Intermittently you take over, holding my face on your cock, and thrusting into my throat. And then my reward, offered and begged for, ‘I want it all over me Sir, my tits, my face, my mouth’ – and what a reward (and what an aim!). Strings of cum fall in my mouth, decorate my face, fall onto a breast, my thigh. I stay perfectly still, letting it fall where you decide, staring up at you intently. Watching you take me in, messy as can be, before you sweep cum from my face with a finger, and feed it to my greedy slut mouth, and I happily lap it up, savouring your taste before swallowing it all down. Getting my ‘good girl’.

Later, when towels have mopped anything remaining, and water has been consumed, we lie on the bed and I know that though the respite moment is valued by both of us, and we chat easily, part of you is playing with me, just a little – you know how much I desire your touch, what it will so easily do. And then those eyes of yours darken, and you kiss me, and slide a hand down my skin, over the lingerie I still wear, and between my legs. I think you clasp my whole cunt in your palm first, your fingers feeling the pulse between my legs, the heat coming off me. Commenting on it I think. Or maybe that was when it was on your leg as we kissed and I writhed. I remember chuckling ‘I don’t know how I got up here’, having practically mounted you. Was this then? Soon you push my thong aside, and my legs fall open for you like they were made to do it, I want to expose every part of me to you.

Within moments I know I am in exactly the hands I imagined I’d be, as your confident touch on my clit and cunt make me moan. I have no clear through line of memory here, mores the shame, it was all too intense to retain as one – but the flashes are clear, visceral, strong.

Your fingers whirling over me in a way I found astonishingly miraculous, so alike to how I would do it, but firmer, fuller, more overwhelming, and with an insistence that carried me away. When you first pushed inside me, finding me so wet, the feeling of your fingers hooking inside me, I don’t even know how many, my whole body was singing so loud, but I was tight around you. Your smile the first time you took your hand so abruptly away – I maybe had said please. I wasn’t allowed to cum yet, I knew this. I knew you would edge me but oh how fucking exquisite it was, that build again and again of fire within me, only to be thwarted. You sucking and biting at my nipples, the sharp intake of breath it caused in me combining with the acceleration of desire in my cunt – you asked me if I felt it in my cunt I think – I did. The brat like feeling I got the second time you pulled away, an impulse I think my leg even fell for, stamping lightly a couple of times I was so frustrated. You’ve told me since I even pouted at you.

Fucking my wet cunt with your fingers, your thumb rubbing at my clit, driving me utterly wild, my hands clawing at sheets, pushing down into them. Your hand around my throat, me stilling and meeting your eyes as you put it there, a rush of blood to my clit as my breathing stops for you. Sucking my nipples into tighter peaks and taking them between your teeth, the clean pain cutting through the whirls of pleasure. Meeting your eyes as you did so. And then I think it was the third or fourth time I could feel the crest rise again and begged, please Sir let me cum, and you finally assented – yes slut, cum for me. My cunt contracted, my every muscle tensed and rippled, and I was lost in blissful spasm and cries, and you did not cease your rubbing, and I kept coming for you, the first lasting long and hard, and just as it began to recede, you pushed me again into another, my surprise possibly visible, your fingers slick with my cum, as you bullied my clit and cunt into another, and another, each different but overwhelming. Not a measure of self control left in me.

My eyes flying open to look at yours on and off – sometimes in amazement, as my body kept rippling and moving, my hips rising and bucking as I cried out again and again but your hand stayed on me. I can’t be sure, I wasn’t counting, but I would guess at least five orgasms, of varying types, wracked my body without a break between them, just rolling from one to another, ever thinking I couldn’t possibly still be coming, but losing myself in your power, my body completely controlled by your hands. Towards the end I think I closed my legs around your hand, trapping it still, twitching and panting. My body’s plea for mercy, you gave to it.

After, as you let me recover, I remember laughing and being amazed at how well you could read my body, read when to pull away, just on the crest to edge me so perfectly – you reminded me you’d had a bit of a preview, listening to me cum for you on the phone. You knew some of what to listen for. But those fingers, their talent. I am a lucky slut to receive such attentions. Did I tell you so, I feel like maybe I did. I certainly learnt a lot about my own body’s capabilities in the right hands.

Lying on my front beside you, my face turned to you beside me, no doubt full of amazement, yours rightfully a little smug. Getting drawn into you, us lying there chatting, at one point you holding my tit in one hand perfectly with the arm round my shoulders, somehow comforting and sexy at the same time. Me noting I was still wearing so many clothes, you tell me they suit me so well. But you allow me to strip for you, watching you watch me, removing the babydoll by pulling the halter-neck over my face and letting it drop, undoing the 5 clasps on the front of my bra, pushing it off my shoulders and my tits fall exposed to your gaze – turning to the side slightly as I bend to remove my thong… straightening and watching your eyes as you get to see all of me, bared to you, and I stand fairly confidently for a moment before rejoining you on the bed. Something about this me, doesn’t care about my scars and flaws, I know that’s not what you’re seeing. You’re seeing a willing slut ready to give herself to you, and that’s what I am right now.

it frustrates me that I remember sex the least – it overwhelms my senses so much, I think my brain is so in the moment, that sometimes not enough sense gets retained. A blur of sensation, of giving to you entirely, means I retain no concrete timeline, just intense bits of memory that are like dreams, and if I try and articulate too much they slip away and merge and reconfigure before my eyes. But at least, there are moments that I remember strongly within there – viscerally can conjure again, and have since for my own pleasure.

I remember when you first took me it was though I’d flipped inside out it felt so good. Staring in your eyes as you pushed your fat cock between my lips, the moisture slick, coating you quickly. Giving you your next hole to claim. Your cock stretched me, filled me, and my cunt welcomed it greedily. Again.. flashes… your hand around my throat, my hips rising to meet your cock, your thrusts – so many variations, each so amazing. Allowing me to cum for you when I begged, molten cum filling my cunt and seeping noisily out around your cock as I came. Pushing my legs into the air, holding them there. I had a bruise from how tight you held one, I savoured it. Your cock so deep inside me, satiating that hungry cunt. Telling you how good your cock felt inside me as you fucked me. Gasping your name into the air. I think it was then you showed me the true power of your hand around my throat. Each time before, I felt I could probably gasp a breath if I hadn’t stilled it myself, the rush of the feeling strong, but this time. This time your hand tightened fully, and I felt that close of my windpipe. I had stretched my neck into your touch, and I know I stared at you, know I let my eyes show how much control I would give you – all of it. My breath at your control, as you fucked me hard and deep. It tipped me deeper.

Teetering on the edge of pleasure, not cuming without permission but feeling my cunt clench tight around your cock with pleasure, concentrating to hold out for your say so. Hanging onto the lip of the headboard, screwed into the wall, and realising I needed to let go or I would tear it down. Begging you to let me cum, being granted, rewarded… again and again. Somehow you flipping me up on top of you, me finding how best to straddle you, riding you, grinding my hips on you. Occasional jolts of sweet pain threaded throughout. Was it then you took my nipples in your mouth, teasing and biting lightly, called me hot, and then made me show you my party trick? I smiled when you did, and lifted my breast and took my nipple in my mouth, sucking gently. I think it was then, with you in my cunt. I remember rippling my cunt purposefully around you as I straddled you, your little acknowledgement of it had a layer of impressed.

Wrapping my tits around your cock, large enough to encompass it. Sucking my cum from your cock, leaving it on my tongue for you to taste as I kiss you. I don’t know if you were expecting it, or welcomed it, but I hope it was a savouring face I got as you held it in your mouth. Taking you in my mouth again, once more worshipping Sir’s cock, tasting myself all over you, bobbing up and down on your cock, lavishing it – and this time being granted the honour of your cum all in my mouth to savour andd swallow.

Even though my body, full of adrenaline, trembling still, didn’t let me sleep much, I dozed and dreamt vividly for moments, and would wake to find your arm on me. Weirdly I didn’t shy from that, I would normally find it claustrophobic, but it felt like a very light reassurance of care, a layer below the degradation without a pressure. Safety amongst the uncertainty and loss of control, that had allowed it to flourish. A trust, based on understanding and similar brains, based on months of planning and excitement – without the frivolity or foolishness of youth or spontaneity.

The next morning, playing with you as we begin to wake up properly, loving worshipping my new favourite cock, gently teasing it with fingers and grasping it tightly with my whole hand. Your fingers sweetly insistent in the most commanding way on my clit, catching the soreness from last night – I lean into it, and I tell you of the combination of pain and pleasure – I want Sir to know what I am taking for him. I let the experience wash over me, feeling the pain, letting the pleasure win out, cuming for you once given permission, and then letting another slip out, looking cheekily at you, knowing I will revel in my punishment later. Your quick smile tells me you won’t let this one slide. I think you pull another from me before you get to that though. I think then, or somewhere in this, for a little while I test how much my throat can take, and find it sore and swollen, I am unable to manage to get your cock all the way in my mouth, but tease and massage you with my tongue and suck on you none the less.

Laying next to one another again, you rubbing your fingers over my lips, slowly sliding them into my mouth, pushing deep. Holding your gaze as you do, that spark of daring in my eyes, the flare of ownership in yours. When asked how many spanks my transgression deserves, I pitch 3 and you say 5, but compromise with 4. In hindsight, I think we both wish we’d pitched higher. Flipping me over, with the slightest touch on my hips from you, I raise my ass in the air, on all fours, my forearms together. You tell me to count them with you, and my mind is spinning a little at finally getting to experience this, I’m so ready, but with just a glimmer of nerves.

But when you first slap my ass, I think we are both surprised. My breath was not an intake of pain or startledness, but a low exhale of relief. Not relief that it didn’t hurt – it did, but a low burn, and it was as if something in me had been satisfied. I had had only the smallest idea of how much I missed that feeling, what need I had for it. In my surprise, I almost forgot to count – after a pause – ‘One’. The next spank has the same effect, barely a noise from me, I can almost hear your dissatisfaction – ‘Two’. You slide your hand briefly between my legs, pressing my lips with my swollen clit within. For three and four you up the ante a little, and get more vocal responses – the sting overlays and I revel in them, gasping out ‘Three’, ‘Four’. Each gives me a jolt like a drug, something in me soars for just a few seconds.