I’ve written a dirty story.
“So what’s new?” you might ask.
This one! It’s new, it’s desperately dirty and it’s free for you to read over at Juicy Sex Stories.
“What’s the catch?” you say.
The catch? No catch. Well, it’s not really a catch…but you could do me a favor by rating it (and naturally I’d prefer a higher rating to a lower rating but I’ll leave that particular detail to you). You see, it’s an entry in a competition. I had to write a story about a sexual first. Luckily, it didn’t have to be something sweet about a pretty and naive (albeit rather old for reasons of decency) girl losing her virginity. It could be about any sexual first. And I wanted to write somethng dirty. So I picked pegging.
But before you go, here’s a little teaser….
It’s pretty much same all over the world, I would guess. The Bachelor’s Prayer—dear lord, save us from needy girls, save us from greedy girls, save us from girls that turn into their mothers and save us, most of all, from girls who want to experiment with sex.
Okay, you’re looking at that last clause and I know what you’re thinking. What’s wrong with a little experimentation in the bedroom every now and again? And I couldn’t agree with you more. A little pushing, nudging of the boundaries is a fine thing. When I’m in control of it. But sometimes, a ballsy girl might push you a little too far. Take you out of your comfort zone and lead you along a path you don’t really want to explore…
For example, take what happened between me and this chick, Della. She was hot and when I picked her up, one Saturday afternoon down at Benny’s pool hall, she was wearing the shortest shorts—like, when she bent over the pool table… Well, you get the picture, don’t you? We went back to my place, sunk a few beers and got down to business—fast. She was a girl with a healthy appetite. I banged her brains out three times before Sunday morning and after that we were an item. She would come round to my apartment whenever she felt horny and that was pretty much every day. I began to get worried about the little man, that I’d wear him out or something. And the guys at work—the more exhausted I looked each morning when I came in, the more they laughed.
In other words, for about three weeks she was perfect.
But then, on the twenty-second straight day in a row that she’d come over, she was kind of ornery. We started making out on the couch when she suddenly pulled back from me.
“You know, Charlie, this is getting kinda boring.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. My cock, straining up against the fabric of my shorts sure didn’t think so. “What d’you mean?”
“Like, you know,” she said. “Same thing every day. I come round. We kiss, I go down on you, you fuck me. I go home. Same thing each time.”
“You wanna do something different?” I asked. Myself, I couldn’t see the problem.
“Would you, Charlie?” she said. She had the cutest smile when something made her happy. “Would you really let me play?”
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you want.”
Those are three words that, when you’re talking to a woman, you’d be wise to avoid. That was the lesson I was just about to learn.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ve got a couple of fun toys at home. I’ll bring them with me.”
Then she went down on me and, boy, was I in heaven for eleven and a half minutes.
Want to read more…?