Dream stranger
Choose your job or career options wisely; I was told when I finished college a year ago. Completing the course as an accredited personal trainer seemed a good choice for a fit, nineteen-year-old girl like me.
How did I know that, in a depressed economy, working the desk at a 24/7 fitness centre from ten o'clock at night to six in the morning would destroy my sex life? I hated the dead shift.
Oh, I had those moments of excitement when I first got the job, you know, surely there would be endless hot guys and maybe a few bi chicks to have it off within the changing rooms…well, we all dream of sex…, but that was currently all I was doing.
Dreaming.
The fitness chain I worked for always rostered male and female employees on any shift. I got the rare, seemingly happily married guy, Davey.
Still, I suspected, despite my great looks, that his very pregnant wife would emasculate him if he fucked around. So, I did my job and did it well, nothing more, nothing less and worked out too often.
I was fit, as the client base in the wee hours is shallow and irregular.
It was a Saturday at 2:00 a.m., and I had that moment when I'd rather be partying, but I got through it. When Davey got the call, his wife was in labour, and he packed up and left. One of the managers was annoyed, but he would be in — in about an hour.
Great, I had the place to myself, and it was empty.
I was flat on my back, working up a real sweat, well I had nothing else to do, on one of the multi-station gym benches, really working my arms and legs and keeping my perfect flat tummy toned, stretched and flexed in my designer lycra…but who cared or would notice.
When I noticed a guy above me. Looking down at me, very impressed.
Geez, I was impressed, too: he was toned and so frickin masculine—a dream gym guy.
I shook my head. You know, maybe I was dreaming.
He had my thighs under his firm grip, urging me with his eyes to bend up and work my abs. Of course, I did because, despite the effort, it got me closer to his handsomely rugged face and smouldering blue eyes.
I was flat on my back again, but boy, was I intent on getting back up into his face…again and again.
He got his face closer to me each time I came up. I caught his fresh breath; he must have felt my hot breathing. I was sweat-soaked as I completed a rapid twenty.
I was lying back, taking a breather, when he was straddled across the workstation, his shorts hovering above my face.
My hands were on auto. I was a needy, needy girl. My fingers were deftly up his inside leg, under his boxers and feeling for his cock and enjoying his ball pouch simultaneously.
I whipped out his growing meat, and my face got that big smile. It was a worthwhile cock, and I massaged and teased it with generous, warm tugs. He liked that; his deep, manly groans told me as much.
He got excited as I did some dirty talk: "Oh, I like your cock, handsome, big and juicy just for me, boy am I going to suck you off…very, very soon."
I did the jerky stroke tuggy action guys go wild over. It was like I actually knew his own preferred private dick-yank action.
He liked it even more as I sucked him off. He got right over my face, allowing for a deeper mouthful, and I happily took his entire length. My tongue was licking and circling his head. My fingers fondled his balls. I was born knowing how to give a guy head.
I gave the whole wet, sloppy job. Saliva and spitty drool drenched his manhood, from his cock head to the base of his thick shaft. I let him watch my tongue slide over and around his cock. Guys like that. And I kept up my devastating sexy eye contact…the mutual sex enjoyment through our eyes.
He gave me the dirty encouragement: "Yeah baby, suck it deep…suck it…I know you love it."
Then, I took him slow and leisurely. Complete female cock control. My tongue danced around his shaft like an exotic pole dancer…sheer eye candy and mind-blowing guy bliss.
Yeah, he had to change the focus or blow his load. My tits got his hands as he edged down me, lifted my top, and eased my nipples over my bra cups. His broad smile of appreciation at my beaut tits like a deer caught in a high beam…his inner beast caught in my sensual twin headlights, my gorgeous boobettes. He went on a mission to suck and tweak nipples, and I thrashed under him, still pinned but enjoying the intense breast attention.
"Yeah, suck 'em' and pinch 'em.' Ooh yeah!"
He was working off my lycra pants at the same time, though and easing my knickers down over my ankles, too.
He kept me pinned, but I liked it as he spread my legs across the bench wide. I was so wet and ready for him, and he knew it.
His fingers seemed to be doing everything at once, were everywhere in and around my pussy and anus together, nothing sensitive missed…boy was he talented down there…he knew girly anatomy inside and out…yeah…every last teeny-weeny sweet, intimate pleasure giving detail.
"Orgh, yeah! I'm wet! So wet! Wet for you!"
He was down on me: teasing and with gentle expert attention: introducing his tongue to my pussy surrounded by its trimmed dark pubes.
He knew pussy…he knew where to focus.
He knew my pleasure hot spots.
Well, basically, as well as, I knew them myself.
A girl can ask no more. I needed no more. I was overtaken by pussy happiness, consumed in my seeping moisture mixed with his added tongue wetness. I was addicted to my clits imploring need for attention, and it was getting its share.
Then, more than its fair share. Oh, fuck, it was all me… my clit…my clit…my beautiful clit…imploding and exploding as the knowledgeable prick was grabbing, squeezing, manipulating the skin fold over my clitty, with his thumb and forefingers: divine, rubbing the skin over my clit, around, and up and down, deep to the sides but not directly and then he exposed my tip for feather-light tongue caresses. I was all his, all climax committed.
"Ooh yeah! Ooh yeah! Just like that! Ooh my! Aah! Aahh! "
My sex life instantly reactivated. The rapid human dual pleasure sequence of flesh companionship dominated us in the next few minutes. He was under me on the bench press, holding my hips but letting me plant my feet wide to spear down on his cock and rise away, tugging his cock upwards and out of the entire length of my juice-laden slit.
My exposed rigid clit and happy pussy repeatedly made a statement of sexual intent equal to his erect cock.
We were two sex-focused beings: both obsessed with cumming, actually…mutually getting it off immediately… in the now…in this instance…no fucking waiting.
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" exerted energetic euphoria!
Fucking doesn't wait. Fucking seizes the moment, dominates the moment, controls every thought in the minutes of its existence, totally consuming of self.
Fuck…fuck…fuck: We are fucking. I am fucking. He is fucking the bejesus out of me, and I love it.
I'm having sex with the perfect fucking stranger.
Oh, sweet Jesus, I loved the late shift.
"Hngh! Hngh!"
His cock late shift took me by complete surprise.
My arse was getting it. He got me doggy over the press at his sweeping hand-controlled insistence, my cute arse cheeks and pink pucker slot pointing backwards, awaiting his best dirty efforts.
His superlative efforts with my butt were as filthy as I had hoped. His tongue tip was in my gaped, tight niche. His fingers gawped my inner tender rawness to funnel spit into my unyielding, though slightly giving buggery hole.
"Oh sheez! Yeah, that is so mussy! Such great tongue work! Take my crack, you prick!"
He was a complete arsehole: but his fat cock fit; it was ideal.
Oh fuck, as he moved in and out of my constricted, squeezing butt, I hit girl super bliss. Arsehole-filled perfection. Stunningly happy with his pecker jamming into my butthole, slinking out to my rim, and then thrusting manically back in.
"Raah! Aah! Oof! Oh my, that is deep! Keep punching my starfish, you bugger! Raah! Aah!"
I had the arse cock filling, drilling, absolute fem-enjoyment state of hot pecker in me: pounding cock, man stiffness shaping my star-fished balloon knot like I know it shouldn't.
How was my tight tiny butthole so stunningly capable of so much self-delight and shared pleasure in the immediate instance…stunning me…stunning the guy…stunning both of us.
Wow…Fuck…Life…Sex…was consuming…was all.
My tenderised, ungiving, giving back furrow was impaled, yet somehow, seamlessly joined to a guy.
The pressure building was so powerful from everywhere. I would cum again. I felt the pleasure increase. I know my capacity… it's deliciousness …I would cum!
"Orrgh! Yes! Ooh yes! I'm friggin' cumming! I'm cumming! Ooh! Ooh AAhh!"
Then the prick gives me more, and my body takes the more. I climax with the more as he pierces and prises open my arse, even deeper yet, his balls slapping on my butt cheeks.
"Uugghh!"
The power of the sexual together hits us both: the joint frictional surge of bodies enjoying themselves—pleasure without limits. We give and take from each other together…strangely equally—the wonder of sex in the sweet flesh defining life moment.
The mirrors on the gym wall held my gaze momentarily. I was taken aback and amazed at my sexual self and sexual expression. My strange, happy body movements. My large glazed eyes, my open panting mouth, beads of perspiration on my forehead. My erect nipples and my tits wobbling happily.
His contorted, happy face behind mine, male focussed on my arse and his cock thrusts…yeah, a guy…cock and butt dominated…but so I was: expressively enjoying being boned.
Craving his release in me.
I could feel my tight cracks delight as my arse got his explosive load of jizz.
We spiral together in pleasure. We hit the summit of pleasure escalation and jointly embrace the pleasure cavalcade through our bodies.
Sometimes a good cock filling is all you need…sometimes, a dirty arse drilling will make your day…sometimes you need both and get both: but above all: it's a body fitting to a body.
I was gasping, sweaty, and leaking and collapsed forward to rest in a stunned body reduced to jelly orgasm.
I savoured it and rested…thinking I'd get ready for more. He must be watching me, waiting for me to turn over. I thought he was enjoying my hot butt.
I turned over after a couple of minutes, but he was gone.
Forever the perfect stranger: the true master of the unrepeatable one-off.