I love it when I come home from work and find Bruins’ tickets stuck under a fridge magnet. It’s almost a freedom pass!
I saw the date on the tickets was the next Thursday, giving me three days to discover who could be out there for me. Midweek nights are normally easy but I don’t settle for just anybody. However, it didn't take two hours to decide that John was the guy. He was perfect: lives close by and all we ever chat about is vulgar sex. Plus, his cock was big and fat, topped with a huge head. What’s not to love?
At first, he didn't believe that I fancied meeting up. “Oh, okay then,” I said, “try me. Ask me.”
So, he asked me out on a date — and that’s something men really should do rather than assume I'm sitting around waiting to run to them. I love the anticipation and knowing in advance that I'm going to have fun.
Thursday came and we passed messages from time to time. That was awesome because he didn’t trot out the typical, ‘Oh you’re beautiful’ or ‘I can’t wait to see you’. Instead, it was cock pictures and totally vulgar comments. I just laughed because, as far as I knew, he might be all talk. I’ve been let down many times and I don’t assume it’s going to be magical.
We decided to meet at a pub not too far from where he lives, which was less than ten miles from me.
At home, I had dinner and got to see my man and his kid (not mine) leave for the game. Even though it was freezing out, I’d been asked to wear a short skirt and heels, and so I did. But I soon wished that I hadn’t — it really was cold.
We got to the pub about the same time and he came to me in the parking lot. All smiles, he looked about six-foot, a little on the husky side, and was balding with some salt and pepper hair. He wore a black coat and jeans.
Taking my arm, he said, “So glad you actually came,” and we walked into the bar.
We started with familiar small talk, chatting about his work, and then he said he was divorced and his kids were older. But, as the drinks kicked in, he told me he that he used to swing with his wife, that he was truly a sex addict and that it had led to the end of his marriage.
I admitted to also being an addict and said that swinging was great — except that rules suck. We bonded on that view. He especially liked that I didn’t think I should have to seek permission from my man if I was swinging and a guy wanted to do something to me he enjoyed.
“Well,” he said, “your man's not here, is he?”
I laughed. “Neither are his rules.”
After he requested the check, he turned to me and, in a totally different tone of voice, said, “Oh no, they’re not. And I promise I will be fucking you like the pig that you are. Let’s go, we don't have that much time.”
As we walked out, he said he’d take two Viagra tablets and they would be in full effect when we reached his condo. From the moment, I got out of the car till we got to his door, he squeezed my ass, telling me that he was going to “fuck that, and fuck you good.”
Inside, he led me straight to the bedroom. It was all set up for a visitor and he ordered me to undress as he did the same. That’s when I saw him snap on a black cock ring. I’d never seen one in real life, but it made his already-hard cock look even harder. It really looked angry, that’s the best way I can describe it.
Then it began. I mean, he had told me that he really likes to fuck and he was good to his word, taking full advantage of the situation and me. I followed every order he barked out and, with him being very verbal, I had a number of orgasms.
“Get on your knees… yeah, you like my big cock, don't you?” he said, flapping it against my face.”You’re a dirty slut who loves big cock. Yeah, you wish your husband had a cock like this, don't you, slut?”
He slapped it on my tongue. “Suck it good,” he said and then proceeded to fuck my face with no love whatsoever. “Your face is gonna see a lot of this cock, Lindsay. You like that, don't you?”
I tried to agree but he was gagging me pretty well.
“Lick my balls… yeahhh, now my asshole… do it now, slut… mmm, spit on it.”
I could tell he watched a lot of porn — as I do — and he kept right on going as if he was twenty years old, not a guy in his late fifties.
“Get in that bed now.”