“Well, aren’t you the cutest little Girl Scout?” he said to me. “I love the pigtails.”

I couldn’t believe I actually did it! He seemed to like it, though. I found a way-too-short, sexy Girl Scout costume online and ordered it to surprise him. It came in yesterday. The thin green material really set off my red hair and the short dress showed half of my ass when I was walking erect. I had pondered wearing white cotton panties or my new lace designer thong, but I opted for nothing at all beneath the costume to give an extra-slutty appeal. Besides, we’re talking about my oblivious boyfriend here. You have to grab his head and force it into your crotch before he gets the hint. All the while, he’s turning up your own, personal, heat to the point that such brazen, wanton acts of sluttiness become your enthusiastic first options.

I wore the fake Girl Scout sash, the cute little hat, and finished off the outfit with white knee-high socks and saddle shoes. Braided pigtails extended on either side. I went the “Sylva route” on my makeup and copied her style of laying it on thick, opaque, and stark.

I held up a canvas tote filled with store-bought cookies. Sorry, Krystal doesn’t bake! “Mister,” I breathed out in my sultry-vixen voice. “Would you like to sample my cookies? My ginger-snaps taste like pure heaven.”

“I bet they taste like paradise,” he said. His eyes showed extreme lust. “How much is it for your box?” he added.

“Seventy-seven dollars,” I responded.

“Seventy-seven? What, are they made from real Girl Scouts?”

“They were sixty-nine,” I giggled out to him, thrusting my hips forward. “But seventy-seven is better because you get eight more.”

He paused for a millisecond and then laughed as he got the joke. “You get ATE more! I love it.”

I walked in and swayed my hips in a highly exaggerated way. I strutted over to his low coffee table, feeling his eyes on my exposed ass, and bent over the table to set down my cookies. He was hungry, but not for those kinds of sweets. His hands grabbed my hips from behind and pulled my nude behind into his face. His tongue darted between my legs and caressed my pussy lips from behind.

When he pulled up the thin costume fabric and saw that I had applied another temporary tattoo tramp-stamp, he practically lost control and bent me over the table and took me right there. His hard, extremely thick cock thrust into my wet pussy with one thrust. I moaned in pleasure and matched him thrust per thrust.

In an animal frenzy, he plowed into me with forceful thrusts that sent tingles into my pussy, then up to my nipples. He slammed into me from behind so hard that the table scooted with each thrust and my unbound breasts bounced and caused delightful friction with my taut nipples rubbing against the costume fabric.

He grabbed my hips and sunk his entire length into me. Rather than pull out and thrust again, he found that magic spot where his hips would lessen the pressure and then slam into me in the best way imaginable. It caused me to release what felt like a gallon of boiling juice onto his thrusting manhood. Not satisfied with mere bliss, he reached around my thigh and deftly found my swollen clit and held it between two fingers while flicking it to the rhythm of his strokes with a third. Bliss became Nirvana and I orgasmed over his thrusting cock while I screamed so loud that my cries of pleasure echoed off the walls.

Picking me up as if I were weightless, he spun me around, still impaled, while kicking the table out of the way with one kick. Holding me to him, he placed me on his couch and proceeded to pound me into pure, sweet oblivion. Without losing his pace and always knowing exactly when to increase tempo, depth, and pressure, he brought me to an intense vaginal orgasm as tears of pleasure spilled from my eyes, making my slutty makeup run.

Not yet satisfied, he propped my ankles up on his shoulders and kept on with that pace. He was in me so deeply that I swear I could feel the head of his cock thrust into my throat. As soon as I felt the quivering sensation of another vaginal orgasm built to eruption, his fingers found my clit and I convulsed so much that he had to hold me down to keep me from falling off of his couch. I blacked out; my entire existence was reduced to one extended orgasm as time slipped away.

An eternity later, I was able to stop moaning and the world slowly came back into focus. He was kneeling on the cold stone floor in front of me; his hands caressed my body in what was both a relaxing and sexual manner.

He smiled at me and laughed. “It seems that all of your cookies are ruined; how much do I owe you?”

I laughed with him. “I take it you liked?”

“I loved! You’re my kind of crazy! You blew me away shaving yourself bare and adding the tattoo”

“I slipped with my razor. You like?”

“I’m into you and it’s your sexy, tight pussy. I’m just thrilled to be with you.”

He held me then and we kissed romantically and lovingly; our kiss grew passionate and wanton. He got me horny again.

“You didn’t cum yet, let me.”

He waved me off. “No hurry. Let me enjoy the moment some more. At the risk of spoiling a repeat performance, what brought on this incredible surprise that I’ll remember forever?”

I shrugged and smiled at the way his eyes were roaming over my body in unbridled desire. I unbuttoned the top buttons of my Girl Scout costume so my flesh could bask in the warmth of his lustful stares.

“I wrote some erotica about a bimbo character that caught her boyfriend whacking off to porn and reenacted it for him.”

He smiled.

“My first thought was roleplay like this,” I gestured to my costume. “But I decided to go with shoe shopping without panties.”

“I’d love to read it.”

I noticed that my costume was torn in a few places. It was very thin and not really made for the abuse we had just put it through. “Damn!” I lamented. “I didn’t bring anything else to wear.”

“Feel free to put on anything you want,” he said. “Or just go naked.”

“Really?” I said. “How about I put on that black dress from your ex?”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I burnt it.”

“What?”

“I saw how you reacted and realized that I no longer need the reminder. I burnt the dress and toasted marshmallows over it and then sold the ring and gave the money to Jake so he could buy something for his girlfriend. Your friend, Marcy, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I responded. “She’s a dear friend, but let’s get back to you burning the dress. What the fuck do you mean you gave the money to Jake?”

“Jake says he’s in love with her. He wanted to buy her a promise ring or something but doesn’t really have any money. It was a win-win. Forget the dress; it was over more than a decade ago. Let’s get back to the part where you’re writing dirty stories about bimbos doing porn.”

I held up a finger and then ran upstairs into his room. The dress was really gone! It is a long story, but it was a vestige from a failed relationship. From what I was told—from Kiera, not him—she had really done a number on him and used him poorly. I had been afraid that he still carried a torch for this historical-cunt.

In his closet, since I was snooping in there, I found a white medieval tunic of his that had Celtic knotwork bordering in black, tore off the costume and put that on. It came down to mid-thigh and I looked sexy in it. I went back downstairs and didn’t mention the dress again. He probably knew that I ran up there to have a look, anyway; he’s just far too socially adept to bring it up.

I borrowed his computer and pulled up the story for him and began to read aloud. He loved my “Kryssi the Bimbo” story and even laughed wholeheartedly at my silly jokes. Less than halfway through the story, he knelt between my legs and began licking my still-soaked pussy.

I paused reading and quipped, “I told you my Ginger-Snaps taste like heaven!”

I resumed reading. If you ever have the opportunity to have your pussy eaten while you read erotica, it has my stamp of approval. After two more orgasms of such intensity I feared that my thighs would crush his handsome head or that he would drown in the flood of my arousal, we sat on his couch.

I already knew the answer but asked anyway to see how he’d respond. “Do you watch much porn, yourself?’

He chuckled a little and answered as if I had asked him his favorite beverage. “I watch my fair share, and then some,” he said.

“What if I didn’t like it and wanted you to stop?” At least he was perfectly honest with me.

He shrugged and kept up his jovial nature, “Then I’d regretfully inform you that I’m mostly happy with who and what I am and refuse to change myself to please anyone.” He pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “That includes you, my dear.”

“What kinds of porn do you watch?”

“As embarrassing as it is to admit, I watch nasty, slutty, perverted stuff.”

“Such as?”

“Seriously?” he exclaimed. “I watch scandalous women at gloryholes and in porn theaters, sexy women caught masturbating on hidden cameras, public masturbation and other taboo and perverted things that sane people usually don’t do.”

“So you want a woman like that?” I refrained from telling him that I had similar fantasies.

“Nah, fantasy is just that. It would be fun for a woman I’m with to want to do those things, but I hate it when people try to make me do things; I’d never do that back. No pressure, no demands.”

“Do you masturbate to them?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But if I really want to cum, I project you into the woman’s spot and fantasize about you doing those sorts of things.”

I was silent for a short time. “I think that’s the hottest sexual compliment anyone’s ever given me. You watch porn as an inspiration to masturbate over me!”

“I’m sure lots of guys masturbate over you. I can even name names.”

“Now you’re getting me all horny again,” I said.

“Mission accomplished!”

“I know!” I said in my Kryssi the Bimbo's voice. “Play one and I’ll suck you off as you watch it. That will give you something to masturbate over!”

“Like you surprising me dressed as a horny Girl Scout wasn’t memorable enough.”

He did as I asked and pulled up a video of a slutty-looking redhead in what appeared to be a seedy, darkened porn theater. He had it bookmarked! There was actually a fairly close resemblance between the vixen on the screen and myself. I began stroking his cock as I watched. She started out playing with herself as men surrounded her. She allowed them to touch her and then began sucking them. Soon she was the center of attention, being filled in all holes, moaning and cursing, and getting covered in strangers’ cum.

I knelt between his legs and returned the favor. My assault on his cock was relentless and I forced as much of that gigantic girth into my mouth as I could. My efforts were rewarded by him announcing that he was close to cumming.

I pulled back with my mouth, making a popping sound as I broke the suction. I had wanted to finally make him cum with my mouth, but it’s too big around and my jaw was hurting.

“Jack it off all over my face,” I begged him. “Show me how hot I make you and cum on me, please.”

He came, grunting, and shot it all over my face. I closed my eyes and accepted his semen with slutty delight. It spewed into my hair, over my lips and chin, and some of it shot onto the tunic I was wearing. He was careful not to get any near my eyes.

“Was I as good as your porn-induced fantasies of me?” I asked him, not bothering to wipe it off my face.

“Better!” he cried out. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No, no,” I said to him, wagging a finger at him. “I have something better in mind.”

He smiled that smile of his.

“I’m going to leave and not spend the night,” I told him. “But I’m going to drive home exactly like this, with your cum all over me.”

“Wow,” he said. “You’re my kind of crazy.”

“I’ll call you when I get home.”

Then he did something that most guys wouldn’t. He grabbed me and kissed me full on the lips despite his own cum plastering my face. When our kiss ended, I licked his sperm off his own face. I did just as I said and drove home wearing only the tunic with his jism drying on my face and hair. I was so turned on by how slutty I was acting that I played with myself for the majority of the trip.

I got home and had stripped nude before I made it to the front door. I ran upstairs, dialing his number.

He answered. “You won’t believe what happened!” he started. “Some sexy Girl Scout woman showed up at my door and violated me in the nastiest, dirtiest ways imaginable. It was paradise!”

“I made it home. How’s that magic cock of yours?”

“Hungry for redheads,” he retorted.

“I favorited a story when you weren’t looking. It’s about this woman, Megan, becoming a hotwife. Read me a bedtime story.”