She vehemently nods against me.
“Ah. My perfect voyeur,” I praise, then smile when she clenches around my fingers. I think Kale has a praise kink to go along with her exhibitionist side. “Do you want me to fuck you right here? For all of Chicago to see?”
She moans, dragging an arm up to grab my neck. “I don’t care as long as you don’t stop.”
I quicken my pace, loving the lewd sounds her pussy makes as I fuck her with my fingers. Kale begins moaning, louder each time my fingers enter her, and as her voice goes higher, I feel her orgasm shatter through her. She digs her fingernails into my neck, lets out a guttural moan, and collapses against the window. I patiently stroke her through every last aftershock, then quickly pull my hand out of her panties so I can yank her clothes down her legs. Kneeling, I place a hand on her back, encouraging her to arch. I have to taste her, right from the source.
As soon as my tongue hits her pussy, she cries out blissfully. “God, yes! I never get eaten out anymore.”
Fucking amateurs. “You’re with the wrong men, sweet girl.”
“Evidently,” she breathes, leaning her temple against the glass. I haven’t even seen her face yet, but I can envision what she looks like. Her body is sheer perfection. Curvy in the right places, but toned and muscular everywhere. She takes good care of her body, and I’m definitely attracted to what I see.
Popping a hand between her knees, I nudge them further apart. As soon as she shifts, I push between her legs, turning so I can attack her clit with my tongue. I slip one finger into her pussy, then push my pinkie finger against her ass. The combo has Kale erupting into another orgasm, and when she comes down from that one, she lets her head hang down. Light from the window illuminates her face, and I see her profile clearly. Even with the blindfold, I know it’s her. If she recognizes me, she’ll end this, and I’m not ready for that. This may be the only opportunity I have with her.
Because I’m currently sucking my nutritionist’s clit.
God bless dating apps.
I know, I said I hated them. But at this orgasmic moment? I’m a big fan. Huge.
I just had two of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t even know what this guy looks like, or what his real name is.
I’m a sexual being. I have no problem finding a man for a night of fun. I truly believe that stress and anxiety can be lessened with some orgasms. But, if I had to rate every man I’ve slept with, there would only be a handful that would be close to the top score. This guy hasn’t even fucked me, and he’s already in the number one spot. It may be the fact that I’m blindfolded, so every nerve ending in my body seems to be even more attuned to what he’s doing to me, or it could just be him.
“Better be careful,” I tease, breathing heavily. “You keep giving me orgasms, and I’m going to demand repeat performances if we’re ever in the same city again.”
Ground Man inhales quickly, then coughs a bunch. “Uh, I don’t know when I’ll be back in Chicago again.”
Unfortunately, I do know when I’ll be back in Chicago again. The League sets our schedule pretty earlyon. While actual game times may fluctuate, the schedule is set months before the season starts. Chicago is in a different division, so at most, we’ll play twice a year. We play one of our division rivals, the Bridge Point Bears, multiple times each season.
“Where ya headed next?” I murmur, my eyes still closed in bliss. I love the tingly feeling after an orgasm, where my entire body feels like it’s floating in a cloud.
“You really want to talk schedules right now, Kale? Or would you like me to fuck you?”
“Oh,” I giggle. “The latter, please.”
I feel Ground Man stand, and then I’m unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder. Laughing, I wish I could open my eyes to stare at his butt, so I reach out to grab both cheeks. Damn. I bet I could rest a Coke can on that sucker. It’s incredibly bubbly. Unable to resist, I lightly slap one side, using the other hand to feel as it jiggles. “This is nice. You have a really nice butt.”
“Good to know,” he replies, tossing me onto the bed. I listen as he closes the curtains, then hear him approach me. “Shirt off. On your knees, facing the headboard.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble, attempting a salute. I’m tempted to remove the blindfold. I bet his stance is all sinewy muscle and alpha male. “You gonna tell me your name, or do I have to call you Ground Man?”
“Thought we agreed to no details,” he says dryly.
I pull my shirt over my head, careful to avoid the blindfold, then shrug. “I don’t know. I just figured you’d want me shouting your name when I come.”
An odd noise comes from his direction. “Uh, no. No names.”
Weird, but okay. As long as I get one more orgasm out of this odd experience, I’m fine with whatever rules he wants to create. Except the one about the tied hands behind my back. That one brings back one specific horrifying memory.
As I turn toward the headboard, I hear a flurry of sound behind me. Ground Man is viciously ripping his clothes off, and I feel his energy before his knees hit the bed. He pushes against myspine, effectively situating me how he wants, and then I hear him ripping open the condom. No words are needed as he thrusts inside me.
He grabs a handful of my hair, wrapping it around his fist, as he hammers into me. I’m already seeing stars. “Good to know you weren’t kidding about that eight inches.”
“I don’t lie about my dick size,” he growls, thrusting to the hilt and swiveling his hips. Every few minutes, he repositions, hitting erogenous spots inside me I honestly didn’t know existed. One particular position involved me on my side, with one leg over his shoulder. This allowed him easy access to my clit, and I came so many times I blacked out for a moment.
A sheen of perspiration covers both of us as his thrusts become uneven, the rhythm clearly off, as he gets closer to his climax.
