In a previous story, I noted that a particularly nerve-wracking encounter made me think about refusing spur of the moment internet hookups. Well, about that…
It didn’t, and on one warm summer night, my car pulled into the driveway of a big brick split level. The neighborhood was quiet, but not a menacing sort of quiet, a sort that H.P. Lovecraft would describe as concealing a presence rather than indicating an absence. It just seemed like a calm, quiet place in general, and considering how many cops lived here, that tranquility was highly unlikely to be interrupted.
All of this was good news for me as I was ready to knock on the door of a biker couple who contacted me an hour before. Despite having a decidedly mixed experience over the prior six months with a couple (which is its own surreal story), they convinced me that I should at least meet them. They looked very rough, with a complete package of tattoos and studded leather, but were very polite and friendly, like the vast majority of bikers I’ve ever encountered.
Feeling the now familiar and comfortable anxious knot in my stomach, I knocked on their door. A very large dog or a medium-sized dragon growled in response. Uh oh. As “Ron” welcomed me in, both my guesses as to what was waiting inside to either satiate its hunger for raw human flesh, or try it for the first time, turned out to be wrong. There was no dragon in sight and not just one huge, muscular dog was eyeing me, but two.
One was clearly a rottweiler, the other a fluffy, enormous mix of beige fur and teeth the size of a teenage bear. Ron scratched the rottweiler behind the ears.
“Just let him smell your hand,” he advised.
I silently stretched out my hand, glad that as a rule, dogs loved me. Within seconds of catching my scent, the potentially man-eating monsters stopped growling and happily wagged their tails. Ron led me into the master bedroom where “Beth” was waiting for me dressed in yoga pants and a metal band t-shirt, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
My profile was front and center on their computer, which was both surprising and obvious. For just a moment, I imagined Ron sitting in the office chair in front of the desk, scrolling through an endless wall of profiles and pictures while Beth leaned off the bed, one leg hanging off, with her fist under her chin making comments on what caught her eye.
“You know, we actually chose you because of the testimonials,” she said as I sat down next to her on the bed.
Ah, yes, those. A bizarre feature for such websites, and even more surprising that two couples and two women left one. “If you’re looking for a pizza, may we suggest a pizza that dick?!” On the one hand, I was flattered. On the other, it was a reminder that there was a very seldom discussed but very obvious meat market-y undercurrent in the swinger lifestyle you had to be okay with to participate.
“I’m glad people took the initiative to write some,” I replied as the furry beasts ran up to me and put their heads on my lap.
“Aww the dogs love you!” she swooned.
“They’re awesome,” I smiled, scratching them behind the ears. “They sound like they want to eat you alive but they’re just big goofy pups. Aren’t you?”
I winked as the rottweiler started licking my hand and the teenage bear got extra comfortable. If you ever want to lower the boundaries of dog people, nothing is more effective than getting their dogs to like you. With the pups competing for the best scritches from me within minutes of our introduction, I didn’t just lower their barriers, I obliterated them with the efficiency of a MOAB.
We talked for a long time. They told me about their history of hookups up with people online, how they stayed away from one percenters who got interested in drug and gun running, how they worked with their daughter in school, and the other typical trials and tribulations of life if you will. I even got to dazzle them with a bit of metal trivia about a band they found themselves getting really into after a spectacular concert.
Of all the couples I met, despite the last minute nature of the meeting, it really seemed like we started to develop a really good connection and got very cozy with each other. Truth be told, I was having such a fun time that I almost forgot why I was with them in the first place until Beth reminded me.
“Now listen, I need your help to measure something,” she suddenly switched gears, reaching towards something under a pillow in a leopard-print cover while maintaining eye contact with me, smirking mischievously.
“Sure, what are we measuring?” I asked.
“Your cock,” she giggled.
“Oh? Okay,” I said standing up. “What do you want to use to measure it?”
“My mouth of course!” she replied, reaching for my belt and pulling me towards her.
There was no time for me to even try to think of anything to say and caught off guard, I knew nothing was going to come to mind at any rate, so I just helped her remove most of my clothes as Ron took off hers. Lucky for me, I was at full attention when she reached my cock and true to her word, plunged it deep into her mouth. She was very aggressive, but also very skilled. In the meantime, Ron had removed her pants and was spanking her naked ass with a deep, throaty laugh.
After a few minutes, Beth turned away from me, threw off her t-shirt, exposing her large, full breasts and a massive tattoo of a cross taking up most of her back, and began to expertly deepthroat Ron as she wiggled her ass towards me, spreading herself open. Not one to rush, I ran my fingers down from her lower back down to her inner thighs and back up, slipping one finger inside her.
Ron threw a bottle of exotic lube Beth had retrieved from under her pillow towards me with a wink and a nod. I generously applied it before sliding two fingers inside her and doing my best to find her G-spot. Beth was clearly enjoying herself. She moaned and bucked every time my fingers slipped back inside, trying to get them in deeper. Finally Ron happily grunted at me.
“Quit playing around and fuck her!”
Like the courteous, diligent guest that I always was, on came the condom and in went my member as I grabbed Beth by the waist, getting the sense that she didn’t just want to be teased or just fucked, but downright pounded. Just as I worked up enough speed to really get going, Ron made the kind of bizarre gurgling sound an uninitiated audience usually takes as a sign of distress, followed up with a “Goddamn it you bitch” that made my heart skip a beat.
Just a moment later, I heard Beth giggle with warm, infectious deviousness. She made him cum in her mouth before he was ready. With a smile on his face, he zipped up his jeans, plopped himself into a swiveling chair next to the bed and in front of the computer, cracked open one of the beers I brought as a token of my appreciation for the invite, and watched while Beth and I had sex in pretty much every position we could, providing tips on where she preferred to be touched most and color commentary.
Beth seemed to like pretty much whatever I did, from quick little kisses on her lips, to letting her just lay back while my tongue played with her clit, to very gently biting her DDD cup breasts and sucking on her nipples.
“Oh, I see you like my tits, don’t you?” she laughed after I, admittedly, spent a fair bit of time playing with them while fingering her.
“What’s not to like?” I winked back to her laughter and Ron’s background chortle.
From doggy to missionary and everything in between, we just kept going and going because we couldn’t stop ourselves. She was so affectionate and appreciative, her infectious giggles as I hit the right spot were so warm and so catchy, it made no sense to end the fun. Finally, as she rode me, I realized how incredibly wet she’d gotten. My thighs and stomach were soaked with her, something that didn’t escape Ron’s attention. (His reaction was to get up and high five me.)
Finally, Beth collapsed on top of me, whispering in my ear while trying to catch her breath.
“Holy fuck, how did you not cum yet?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s see if we can try and do something about that…”
She got back on all fours, her back arched, pussy almost dripping, thighs glistening with her sweat and juices. As I slid back inside her, Ron cracked open another bottle. Finding my pace, I had her moaning and laughing once again in no time. The action felt good, but severely muted by this point from all the rubbing, but adding more lube would’ve been like trying to change the shoreline of an ocean with a bottle of water.
“Man, are you some kind of athlete?” asked Ron.
“No, just young and energetic I guess,” I replied without slowing down for even a moment, only very vaguely realizing that I was having a fairly casual conversation with a man whose wife’s pussy I was pounding as if I was trying to break it, about how that effort was going.
In my defense, she did literally tell me “I really like to get pounded,” hammering a closed first with an open palm with the intensity of a massage gun. As another twenty minutes or so passed, I realized that I was simply not going to cum that night. No matter what she did, no matter how good it felt, there was just nothing building up, and as the third condom snapped from the stress, we collapsed side by side, both too exhausted and raw to keep going.
“I’m so sorry honey, I just can’t,” she groaned with disappointment.
“Hey, I get it, at this point, it’s going to hurt to keep going,” I reassured her.
After I caught my breath, she hugged me and apologized once again for being too sore and worn out to keep going. Kissing her on the cheek, I assured her that it was ok and it happened sometimes, but that it was still a lot of fun and how glad I was that we met. We took a quick shower to clean up since the amount of various fluids on us required it, I got dressed, received bear hugs from both of them, and gave their furry, still quite possibly man-eating monstrosities goodbye scritches before heading home completely spent.
A cynic would've focused on the transactional nature of this encounter, the fact that a couple looking for a little excitement browsed through a list of willing partners, picked one out, brought him in for random sex, then sent him on his merry way. One good conversation does not a connection make, right? Maybe. It’s not exactly an invalid point.
But consider that sex is a biological need located in the same area of the brain that regulate hunger and thirst. Well, sort of. To get really technical, the part of the brain actually responsible for hunger, thirst, sleep, and a few other basic autonomic functions is the hypothalamus, while sexual arousal is triggered in the amygdale. (Which also regulated fear, so you see how scary and horny might get cross-wired sometimes.) But they both live in the limbic system, so the point still stands for you neuroscience pedants.
Having established that, we can ask if the grocery store regulates what you can and cannot buy when you’re hungry. Should you come in and buy a certain brand of chips just once, the grocery store doesn’t require you to commit to that brand of chips and make an official announcement when you want to try another brand to forsake your previous preference. It’s Pringles or Ruffles but not both, and not one or the other, and certainly not Pringles one week and Ruffles the next, isn’t it? And if you just had Pringles once, there’s no way you actually enjoyed them, correct?
No, of course not. If you have an intense loyalty to Pringles because that’s all you like, great. But if you want some Ruffles and the Pringles mascot is a-ok with it and wants to watch, why not? And this is all it really is, consenting adults satisfying biological urges in a civilized, efficient way helpfully aided by technology. And so, it would be impossible for me to get offended by the casually polite treatment or expect something beyond that. I got exactly what I wanted: a fun, lewd story, and quite a bit of pleasure.
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from Gonewild Stories https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/vdy48t/mfm_putting_on_a_show_with_an_inked_biker_milf/
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