Guest blog: telling dirty stories to get him off

Image by the always fantastic Stuart F Taylor

Today’s guest blogger – Catey – runs a seriously lovely sexy words Tumblr, where she collects smutty quotes from literature. And as you can tell from her guest blog below, she’s pretty amazing at telling dirty stories herself…

Telling dirty stories

Sometimes, when my boyfriend is about to cum, he asks me to ‘help’. This means letting my nails trace his ass and the tops of his thighs, feverishly kissing his neck and, most importantly, talking dirty.  Sometimes I’ll whisper things like: “are you close baby?” and “are you going to fuck me?” and he’ll reply in a strained, delicious voice: “Y-es”. 

Other times, I’ll tell him a story. You’d think, given that I could dream up any scenario, he’d want something more adventurous but his favourite story is about a spontaneous, desperate fuck when I come home from work. I tell him to imagine it’s summer and warm enough for me to wear a cotton dress, pale blue and off the shoulder. The hem grazes the tops of my thighs. I’ve worn a pretty pair of knickers, no bra. I like way it clings to me, so he can’t help glancing at my nipples distractedly.

It’s hot enough that I’m beginning to sweat. I open the door, throw down my bags and go to the mirror. I’ve worn some mascara, my lips are bare and my cheeks are slightly flushed.

“Hey,” he puts his hand on my waist. He’s in his jeans and an oversized shirt. His facial hair a few days old, looking unkempt.

He kisses the back of my neck in a slow measured way. His stubble feels rough. He has that glazed, slightly unfocused look in his eyes.

 “Good day?”

He puts a hand on my ass and squeezes me roughly through the fabric.

“Yes”. I love it when he talks like this, as if nothing is happening. As if he’s not turning me on at all.

Still faced away from him, he slips his cool hand under my knickers and grabs my ass before sliding it to the hot lips of my cunt. He strokes gently with two fingers, teasing.

“Did you miss me”, he’s not smiling. I can tell when he’s smiling even without looking at him.

I nod. “Mhm.”

He reaches around and pinches my nipples gently, then slowly begins tracing his finger around them. He’s calm but when I place a tentative hand on his cock, it’s straining against the cloth.  I let out a whimper.

He turns me around abruptly, takes a hurried look at my breasts, the pale expanse of my thighs, my collar bones. He kisses me once and moves down my body, pulling the front of my dress down and sucking hungrily on my tit. I close my eyes. I want to feel every bit of his desire, I want it to hurt. He gets to his knees carefully pushing up my dress to expose me, sliding the lace knickers over my hips until they drop to the floor.

“How much did you miss me?”

Something about the slow, studied way he does this makes my heart race. He grips my leg tighter when he sees the shape of my smooth, soft cunt, its full lips split down the centre.

“Have I made you wet already, baby?”

I don’t reply. The kisses are light and warm at first. His tongue slips between hot pink flesh, quivering over my clit. He stops, pushes me apart with his fingers, the kisses become longer, wetter. I look down at his head between my thighs, his face, his eyes closed in concentration. At the sound of my moan he stands up quickly and angles me away from him so my cheek is pressed against the mirror, making small clouds of moisture.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

There’s something guttural and violent about the way he pronounces ‘fuck’. He’s not normally this direct. I can feel his breath hot on the back of my neck. Poised behind me, he must smell my faded perfume, the soapy scent of shampoo, feel my soft pink flesh under his rough hands, feminine and alien. He quickly unzips his jeans, pulls his boxers down, barely getting undressed, just enough so his penis is exposed and nudges against the wet lips of my pussy. We are both tense, breathing heavily. I bite my lip. I’m aching to move back and slide down his shaft, but not as much as I want us to enjoy these slow teasing movements as you both itch for it. I look at our reflection in the mirror. His face is so sincere and focused.

“Please, please baby” when I finally give in my voice sounds small and far away. He reaches his hand around grabs my breast hard. I feel him enter me- it’s like shivers in the base of my spine, reaching out to my finger tips. I clench against his cock, hard and throbbing inside me.

He’s grabbed the nape of my neck, something about the casual intimacy of the gesture kills me. As I go to rise, he holds my hips in that firm, dispassionate way and forces me back down on his cock.

“Let me suck you”

He doesn’t answer.

“Please let me suck you!” I whine.

“Wait-I-“ he starts thrusting. He slaps my ass, knowing how much I like it. And again. Four times. Hard. 

I push him off. It’s my turn to kneel on the floor. The rug feels rough against my skin but I don’t care. His cock is tight and hard, the way it gets when we haven’t fucked in a while. He calmly brushes the loose hair from my face and waits with a look of studied indifference though I know he’s desperate to thrust into my mouth. I place one hand on his shaft and let my wet lips brush the tip teasingly. I look up. Is he watching me kissing his cock, licking it? When I finally take him all in, it swells in my mouth, throbbing when I wrap my tongue around the head or let my lips linger over the frenulum. Sucking out the sweet precum and-

He lets out a shudder of relief.

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