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(X-rated) April 28 2023:
I woke up and ate a waffle at the continental breakfast—hotels being the only place where I would eat waffles. I would make them like pancakes, undercooking them to my liking.
Afterwards, I packed up so I could make it to the on-ramp before it rained. I felt today was going to be an easy hitch—I could just sense it. And so it was. As I was walking across the street to the on-ramp, a pick up truck pulled over before I even got a chance to put my thumb out.
It was a man and a woman who opened the window and shouted, “We’ll take you wherever you need to go!”
I asked if they could drop me off at the library in Bland and they said no problem. They asked me all the usual questions of what it felt like to live out of a backpack. Both of them were really inspired to venture through my mind and I was just as inspired to provide them stories.
After they dropped me off, the guy helped me get my pack from the trunk and said, “You know we both think you’re fucking crazy, right?”
I laughed and said, “Yeah, I am crazy!”
When I walked into the library, the first thing they asked was if I needed anything at all, such as coffee or food.
“I would love some,” I said.
I felt so taken care of, just like a little kid. I spent a couple of hours writing, then Pusher called me and told me to pick a spot for us to eat tonight. I talked to the librarians, asking for a good local spot suggestion. They informed me that everything in town happened to be closed due to lack of employees or no longer existed due to getting burnt down. The only other option available was the gas station or Subway.
So, I walked about a mile to the hotel and checked into the room that Pusher booked for us. I decided to play with myself and warm up for his arrival. I was excited to take my time and be alone for an extended period of time, but he decided to show up early and surprise me.
I jumped out of bed when he came in through the door and greeted him with a hug. He berated me for keeping the door unlocked, then told me to get dressed because he got us a shuttle to take us to the diner for a dinner date.
So, the shuttle driver, Wisdom Empath, drove us to the diner. I fell in love with the restaurant and it’s 50s style theme—I was always a sucker for cozy old school diners. While at the table, I felt excited to spend some time with Pusher. I felt warm and flushed, in absolute appreciation for his masculine presence.
When we got there, I asked him to sit on the same side of the booth as me so I could feel him close to me.
He started toying with my clit and teased me ever so gently with his words, whispering, “I’m thinking about letting you feel my throbbing cock right now, but I don’t think you will since you like to disobey me so much.”
My head fell back and I clenched my inner
“Mm,” he moaned, “your mouth is gonna look so good with my cock inside of it.”
“Now,” he informed, “hands on the table.”
The restaurant full of people, I reached over to grab at his throbbing cock, in hopes he would understand that I couldn’t resist.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he accused, “you’re not allowed to touch me. Put your fucking hands on the table. Spread your legs.”
I did as I was told, although reluctant to do so. He continued to play with my clit, teasing me to the point of complete desperation. I kept wanting to slide my hands down so I could finish what he started.
Finally, I snuck my hands underneath the table when he wasn’t looking, but he caught me and sharply said, “Looks like you’re not ready to submit.”
While we were eating, he asked me whose energy I liked more, his or Voodoo’s. I said his, however I hesitated. Both of us knew I wasn’t being quite truthful. I didn’t like one more than the other, I just appreciated their differences.
We finished our meal with him constantly teasing my clit, keeping me on edge. After we were done, he paid for my food and I felt so aroused. I could feel that he genuinely wanted to take care of me—in the material world and in the emotional world.
When we made it back to the room, he laid down on the bed and I joined him, such as father and daughter. He asked me questions about my mind. He expressed to me that opening up for him emotionally was what would bring his cock to life. I told him I worked the opposite way, in that I often needed to get fucked before I could take it to the next step (opening up my mind).
In shaking excitement, I mounted him and let out a smile—knowing I was about to get my way. He pointed out I had very little self control when it came time for sexual play. He had to remind me several times that I was not allowed to beg, let alone rub myself in any way—that included grinding on his thigh.
He caressed my body over my clothing and eventually, allowed me to take off my shirt so that he could play with my nipples. I moaned slightly as a drop of drool oozed from the bottom of my lip onto my chest. He played with my clit over my shorts and I begged him to put his hands under my pants so that he could feel how wet I was.
“I can’t take it anymore,” I pleaded.
After a few more minutes he allowed me to take off my shorts and panties. I laid back down beside him and spread my legs open so he could play with me some more.
His fingers felt cool along my slit. My pussy grew swollen with heat as my eyes softened from his pleasure inducing hand.
He shot me a playful smile and said, “Wow, you really are wet.”
I nodded, feeling as if I was in a dream state, barely conscious of the weight of the physical world. I sat up and watched as he watched me take him in my mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum. I began to stroke him, carefully watching his face as I worked my mouth around him rhythmically. He had to stop me midway to tell me he had to pee.
I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “That’s my favorite.”
He didn’t catch on right away and asked, “What is?”
I smiled—a dirty fantasy on my mind.
“Can you pee in my mouth?” I asked.
His mouth said no, although his eyes revealed yes. I pouted, but didn’t take no as a final answer—figured he would change his mind soon enough.
“Can I at least watch?” I asked.
He allowed it. So, I followed him into the bathroom and I locked my eyes onto his stream.
“Can I pleaaase have a taste?” I begged.
He smiled and shook his head no as his stream petered out to the last few drops. We went back to the bed and he started to finger me, perfectly hitting my g-spot as he made my juices squirt all over the bed. The tip of his cock was shining wet from being covered in his clear pre-cum droplets.
I went in for a taste, hopelessly turned on by his musky scent. His cum mixed in with my drool as I worked his shaft with my tongue and hands. I felt so grateful that he let me appreciate his beautiful cock, my nimble tongue in love with his genitalia. He grabbed me by my hair, lost in sensation—ready to fuck me.
“How do you want me?” I asked.
“On your hands and knees,” he said.
He told me he had thought of mounting me since the first time we locked eyes on trail.
“I could see the pain in you,” he said, “I could see the hurt—the same that was in me. The constant struggle, the wars we fought that no one could see,” he took a breath of despair and continued, “but, you couldn’t hide it from me. It was what captivated me.”
I pulled his cock close to me… coming to life as he slid his thickness into my tightness. He thrusted deeper and deeper into me, pounding me hard as I bent over further. My ass fully exposed for him, my heart fully concealed. I grasped at the pillows and sheets as I moaned into the mattress—concealing the thoughts away from the surface. My hair fell on top of my bare face, imitating a veil, covering up what was left of my innocence.
He told me to look at him when he was about to cum. I pushed my ass further into him, giving him sign I wanted to feel his hot cum unload into my raw cunt. I collected every drop, then it came pouring out of my pussy as he slid himself out. I couldn’t believe how much he had for me. It poured down my inner thighs when I stood up to look in the mirror.
We laid down beside each other for a couple more hours before going to bed. He assumed I would be staying with him for a while, but I realistically just wanted to get fucked and move on.
“Oh this is going be rough when you leave,” he said, “I’m going to be an emotional wreck the following day.”
I felt some annoyance when I heard him voice that. I wondered why the men I often met found it difficult to have sex without the emotional ties attached to it. Why did it seem hard for people to just view it as temporary play and when I felt like leaving, to just let me go on my merry way?