Shut the Door on Your Way Out
Standing in front of the open wardrobe, naked, my skin damp from the shower, the cool breeze from the open window skimming across my skin, I say out loud, “What should I wear?” It’s a more absurd question than you might imagine.
I am getting ready for a first date, at 8 in the morning, with a man I haven’t met yet, but connected with online. He thinks he is coming here to an open door, me laying naked on the bed, legs open, ready and waiting for him.
Uhm, yeah, this date was arranged last night, when I was drunk. Not buzzed, but drunk. I was home alone and bored, and subsequently drank the whole bottle of Reisling. (I might have had most of the rosé too, but I won’t be admitting that.)
I settle on a red bra with love words scrawled across it in a pretty white script, and red panties made of some random soft material I don’t recognize. I try to look casual, because well, he thinks I am going to be naked, so I should probably at least look like I just crawled out of bed. I arrange my make-up that way too, the half on, half off look, messy morning make-up. It’s artful. It might not fool another woman, but I think it will work on him.
I quickly pack my vape with some weed. I was drunk off my ass when I made this date, and I just read what I texted him last night. (Va! Va! Voom! As my grandpa might say!) I need to be a little high right now. Because, well, yes. I am still going through with it. Maybe not the naked on the bed with a stranger coming in to fuck me, but the date, the sex. I might be sober this morning, (well now I am a little high…) but I am still horny as hell.
The doorbell rings and my nerves rattle as I wait for him to come up the elevator. I decide to stand so he’ll see me when the doors open. This ensures he’ll know right away that this little fantasy scenario we concocted in the dark of the night, isn’t happening. I think it would be wrong to give him the hope of an open door without me standing there, only to find me fully clothed and sitting on the couch once he comes into the flat.
He steps off the elevator and we shoot embarrassed smiles at each other. Since I’ve lived here in Berlin, my type of man is tall, lean, and young. He is shorter than expected and a bit barrel chested, but I forge into this adventure I have signed up for anyway. He is cute enough. I am nervous regardless, and giggle my way through a kiss on the cheek. I mumble almost incoherently, “I couldn’t do it. I was so drunk last night. I needed to see you first.”
He smiles indulgently and then stares at me expectantly. Clearly I am not making myself understood, so I invite him to sit on the couch with me. “I just, well, so much wine last night, ya know? I had to meet you and talk for a bit.”
“Ok, so now we did. Let’s play it out.”
“Play it out? You still want to go through with the open door, the whole thing?”
“Yes, we should go ahead and do that now.”
It takes me a minute to decide. I could call the whole thing off. I’m not feeling the sexiness, not really. He is not my type, not really. But, he’s here and I am horny, and there is always a chance that it’ll be great. Plus, I can feel the weed starting to fuzz up my head and tingle in my finger tips. I love fucking when my finger tips tingle. I agree and stand up.
He goes to the foyer and I run into my room, strip off my clothes and lay on the bed, arranging myself seductively around the pillows. I lay there, waiting. Nothing happens. Where is he? How long does he think it takes to strip down and dive into bed? I begin to worry, maybe he is locked out? Maybe he has tried to text me and tell me to let him in?
So I jump up and run to the living room to grab my phone, and EEK he is coming in the door! “Wait! One second, oops sorry!” I screech as I run back into the bedroom. “I thought you were stuck outside!”
“You want me to go outside?” He asked. (I hear- “xbxbshavhd outside…”)
“Yes!” Nerves getting the better of me, I reply without knowing for sure what he said.
I climb back into bed and am in the process of artfully arranging my body just so, again, when the doorbell rings! He had gone all the way outside! OY! I jump up, AGAIN, and run to the door, waggling my bare ass across the living room for the third time. I open the door slightly, and race back to the bed. I climb in and catch my breathe. No time for artful arranging this time as I hear the interior door to the flat opening and his footsteps approaching.
I arrange my face. How exactly should I look, for a stranger approaching my bedroom while I am lying naked in my bed? I opt for an arm thrown artfully across my forehead and face, my body slightly turned on its side, and my legs bent just slightly, so he can see both of my tattoos, one on the top of each thigh. His smile lights up his face as he enters the room. The smile definitely improves his looks.
He approaches the bed, and runs his hand gently along my leg, starting at my foot. He reaches my ass, and then my side, and leans in closer, putting one knee on the bed. His feather light touch continues upward and he caresses the side of my breast while simultaneously reaching for my lips with his. I had started to giggle when he walked in the room, but that giggle was quickly swallowed as he touched my skin and ran his tongue over my lips.
He stood back and took his off his clothes. I watched carefully, not embarrassed at all, he certainly wasn’t. When I saw the huge tent in his black cotton briefs, I smiled. Oh, this could be a worthy adventure after all. As he pulled the briefs down his legs and his cock was freed, it bounced eagerly up and out. Oh what a cock it was too! (Hmmm, maybe there is something about the stocky man versus the tall lean fellows I am used to seeing?)
He comes back to the side of the bed, stroking that big dick right in front of my face. I reach out and put my hands on it, I have to feel it. It’s so firm and yet so soft. The way all great cocks feel in your hands. He lets me stroke him for a few moments before he climbs into the bed, straddles my chest, and pushes that fat cock right into my mouth. I suck on it greedily, now it’s not only my fingertips tingling, my whole body is finally awake and ready to be fucked by this stranger.
He keeps pumping his cock in and out of my mouth, while I use my hand to stroke him, (and keep him from pushing it in too far and choking me,) while all the while keeping my wet lips firmly attached and licking the length of him. He twists his waist slightly, licks his fingers, and reaches for my pussy. Two fingers, tease me by staying on the outside and just gently rubbing up and down. I push my hips up, trying to get him to put those fingers in, but his eyes are closed and he is busy feeling how good I am making his cock throb to pay attention to my not so subtle movements.
Abruptly, he pulls his cock out of my mouth and moves back towards the bottom of the bed. He spreads my legs wide and looks at me. I am exposed to his scrutiny, and I feel nothing but power. I know I am beautiful. I know fucking is glorious, with all its messy complexity, and I know I am having fun. It’s from that place of power, I take my joy this morning.
“I want to fuck you. Do you want me to fuck you, my little slut?”
I suppress a giggle. It sounds so forced, so fake. It’s nothing compared to the rush when my boyfriend calls me “his special little slut.” His naturally dominant energy igniting my own submissive energy so quickly and fully that I will do anything he tells me, like a good little girl. But I know I told this guy, last night in the drunken texting, that I liked being called a slut, and hey- everyone has to start somewhere- so I reply in a throaty voice, “Yes! Please fuck me!”
He moves into position, and pushes his cock towards me but I quickly twist my hips to the side, giving him a “what the fuck?” look and reach for the drawer in my nightstand for a condom. (Why do men come to fuck without condoms?) He has the good sense to look embarrassed and takes the condom and quickly puts it on.
He leans down and starts kissing me, suckling at my breasts, his wet tongue leaving moist lines on my skin as he moves across my body, kissing my neck, my arms, my belly, giving himself a minute to get hard enough again to fuck. By now I am all liquified muscles and tingling sensations. I want him inside me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him close, grinding myself against his hips. He finally enters me with one firm push. He fills me completely and stops to kiss me again, giving me time to adjust to his girth inside me.
When he starts to move again, he is grinding his hips and thrusting so deeply into me, I have to rearrange my hips to keep from feeling impaled. I love it. His hips pounding into me, his cock so deep inside I grunt with every thrust. I told him I wanted to be fucked hard, and this guy must have studied our texts from last night because he is hitting all the highlights. I lift my legs up and open them so he can reach even deeper as he begins to put a little rotation into his thrusts.
He reaches down and grabs my hair, but he doesn’t really pull. He bends down to kiss me while grabbing my shoulder and pushing me into the bed. I think, “This must be the part where he is ‘rough’ with me. He’s gonna need some work on this part.”
But before I can ponder this, the pounding he is giving me is beginning to yield sensations that I cannot ignore. I reach down and touch myself. Rubbing my wet clit with my fingers, I feel all the building sensations of my impending orgasm. I love to see his face get even more turned on as I place my hand on myself. God, I love how much men love to see me touch myself. It really is the best of both worlds. They get turned on and I get touched in the way I need to reach the most amazing climaxes!
I am so close to coming. The sensation is building inside as he pounds away at me, and my fingers are moving more and more quickly over my swollen clit, building the sensations on the outside. He leans down, covering my body with his. I pull my hand away, wrap my legs around his waist, lift up my hips, and pull his shoulders to me with all my strength while crying out into his shoulders, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
He moves his hips faster and we speed down the sweaty noisy grunting path to our orgasms, finally crying out into each others shoulders and breathing heavy. All pulsing sensations and wetness, shaking muscles and tingling bits. Exhausted and spent, he releases his arms and I feel his full weight is on top of me for a moment. I wrap both my arms and my legs around him fully, keeping him close and inside me for a moment longer, while we catch our breath.
Still breathing heavily, he rolls off of me and stretches out on the bed. He puts his arms under his head and I roll over and place my head on his sweaty chest, just under his armpit. I can smell the musk of his sweat, the musk of our fucking, filling the room. I lick the sweat from his nipple, I can't resist, but he jumps away. The sensation too much after the wild ride we just had.
We don’t talk. What is there to say? We followed the plan from our texts last night quite thoroughly. All the build-up, the anticipation, the tension he felt on his way here was released, and now he lay practically comatose on the bed beside me. All the nerves and uncertainty I had felt, had been released like a flood and the gentle high of the weed was now lulling me into an easy sleep.
Before I can fall into a completely relaxed sleep, he shrugs his shoulder, pushing my head from its comfortable place on his chest, and climbs out of the bed. I curl my body around the pillows, pull a blanket over my naked body, and watch him get dressed. I mentally say good-bye to that beautiful cock, I know I will never see it again. I send good energy to it in thanks for the amazing hard pounding it gave me, knowing full well, I will never feel it fill my cunt again.
When he is fully dressed, he stands there looking at me, all the awkwardness from the start of this encounter comes back in a rush.
“So, uhm, yeah, I should go I guess.”
“Yeah probably, I am pretty sleepy.”
“So, I’ll let myself out?”
“Yes please. I’m very warm and cozy right here. Be sure to shut the door on your way out.”
He doesn't say another word as he walks out. I hear the front door close, roll over, make myself comfortable, and fall into a deep exhausted sleep.