True to his word, only another moment goes by before his body clenches and I’m pulling a deep moan from him. I’m lightheaded and galvanized to finish him right. I dip my chin to the right angle and kiss him again, sloppy and wet and I hope he knows how unforgivably turned on I am by this. A few breathy whines make their way from my mouth into his and my hand starts to feel hot and wet. Maybe it’s rude, but the slick sensation of coating cum all over his shaft is so disgusting and so hot it sends me over the edge, too. My limbs vibrate uncontrollably and some terrible outburst comes out of my mouth all on its own, but I can’t bring myself to care. He pulls me back into another kiss, slower and more sensual. Or maybe it’s not? Maybe i’m just operating on a different frequency in this moment.
Soon enough I’ve collapsed in a heap on his lap. He pulls my tired body flush to his and we both gasp and wheeze for air like we’re a pair of athletes who just finished a marathon. But we’re not. We’re a couple of strangers locked in an intimate moment in the relentless chill of the night. I am both too hot and too cold all at once and I’m trembling uncontrollably, but he holds me still until we both feel capable of peeling apart. He’s ginger with me and helps me swing my leg back to my own side of the bench. I feel incredibly small. And I’m covered in a jizz splatter. I really am a slut, man. I don’t know if I can live with the added stress of being a slut. A beat passes before either of us speaks again.
“Ha,” he lets out a dry laugh. “I could really go for a cigarette right about now.”
I impulsively fumble around and attempt to locate my forgotten pack of smokes in an anxious attempt to be helpful, but then the realization hits me. Oh, right. The lighters… Shit, I broke all the fucking lighters. Oh god, how did all this happen? Why did this happen? A pit forms inside my stomach and starts growing into a voracious swell of panic. I’m gonna freak out, man. What the fuck. What the fuck?!
“Aghh!” I wail in distress. “I’m so sorry, I-”
“It’s okay,” he cuts me off. “I was kidding.”
“...oh.”
I don’t know what to do now. I’m aching from too much time spent in a strenuous position. Should I stay? Should I leave? I have no idea, this is too much! I should definitely check my phone. I brace myself, half-heartedly expecting there to be a slew of aggressive messages from the landlord informing me that he’s been up all night watching the security cameras and now I’m going to be evicted. Oh god… what if he sells the video and I somehow get tangled up in an amateur pornography fiasco? Can he do that?! I unlock the phone to find no messages. I’m relieved. I guess.
“Hey, uh…” the guy starts and then hesitates.
I whip my head around to face him. He’s looking away from me. It’s probably good that he didn’t just see me come close to sustaining a self-induced spinal injury.
“Ngh, yeah…?”
“Can I, uh… can I see that for a minute?”
He turns to face me but he’s still averting his eyes. I sorta get it, though. I’d be ashamed to fool around with me, too. He gestures towards my phone. Why does he want to see my phone?! I don’t know why I do it, but I hand it to him. He snatches it from my hand and messes around with it for a moment with a very serious look written on his features. I’m breathing in short, ragged huffs. Before I can have a full meltdown over my own stupidity for handing it over, he passes it back. It’s open to my contacts. He added himself in my phone…?
“Craig…” I read the name out loud slowly, like it’s a foreign word.
The guy’s name is Craig. My heart skips a beat and I feel like I’m floating. His name is Craig and he added himself to my phone. It doesn’t feel real.
“You should text me the next time you’re coming out for a smoke,” he speaks in a stilted sort of way, like he’s awkwardly and cautiously chosen what to say and how to say it.
All I can do is blink a few times in disbelief.
“Only if you want to!” Craig tacks on hastily and looks remarkably flustered. “I…I should head home.”
I stare at him vacantly, at a complete loss. Is he serious? Is he fucking with me? I watch him in a trance-like state as fixes his clothing just enough to be decent and then he turns and walks away in the opposite direction. And then he’s gone. I’m alone. I’m freezing cold, it’s extremely late at night, and I’m filthy. And yet… I feel like I could do just about anything. My legs start walking on their own. I’m light on my feet but I still watch my ugly boots trod over the salted pavement. When I get back to my lonely studio apartment, I’m going to text him. Maybe I’ll meet him in the morning. I’ll bring extra lighters next time.
Re: craig/tweek outdoor sex, sex with a stranger
True to his word, only another moment goes by before his body clenches and I’m pulling a deep moan from him. I’m lightheaded and galvanized to finish him right. I dip my chin to the right angle and kiss him again, sloppy and wet and I hope he knows how unforgivably turned on I am by this. A few breathy whines make their way from my mouth into his and my hand starts to feel hot and wet. Maybe it’s rude, but the slick sensation of coating cum all over his shaft is so disgusting and so hot it sends me over the edge, too. My limbs vibrate uncontrollably and some terrible outburst comes out of my mouth all on its own, but I can’t bring myself to care. He pulls me back into another kiss, slower and more sensual. Or maybe it’s not? Maybe i’m just operating on a different frequency in this moment.
Soon enough I’ve collapsed in a heap on his lap. He pulls my tired body flush to his and we both gasp and wheeze for air like we’re a pair of athletes who just finished a marathon. But we’re not. We’re a couple of strangers locked in an intimate moment in the relentless chill of the night. I am both too hot and too cold all at once and I’m trembling uncontrollably, but he holds me still until we both feel capable of peeling apart. He’s ginger with me and helps me swing my leg back to my own side of the bench. I feel incredibly small. And I’m covered in a jizz splatter. I really am a slut, man. I don’t know if I can live with the added stress of being a slut. A beat passes before either of us speaks again.
“Ha,” he lets out a dry laugh. “I could really go for a cigarette right about now.”
I impulsively fumble around and attempt to locate my forgotten pack of smokes in an anxious attempt to be helpful, but then the realization hits me. Oh, right. The lighters… Shit, I broke all the fucking lighters. Oh god, how did all this happen? Why did this happen? A pit forms inside my stomach and starts growing into a voracious swell of panic. I’m gonna freak out, man. What the fuck. What the fuck?!
“Aghh!” I wail in distress. “I’m so sorry, I-”
“It’s okay,” he cuts me off. “I was kidding.”
“...oh.”
I don’t know what to do now. I’m aching from too much time spent in a strenuous position. Should I stay? Should I leave? I have no idea, this is too much! I should definitely check my phone. I brace myself, half-heartedly expecting there to be a slew of aggressive messages from the landlord informing me that he’s been up all night watching the security cameras and now I’m going to be evicted. Oh god… what if he sells the video and I somehow get tangled up in an amateur pornography fiasco? Can he do that?! I unlock the phone to find no messages. I’m relieved. I guess.
“Hey, uh…” the guy starts and then hesitates.
I whip my head around to face him. He’s looking away from me. It’s probably good that he didn’t just see me come close to sustaining a self-induced spinal injury.
“Ngh, yeah…?”
“Can I, uh… can I see that for a minute?”
He turns to face me but he’s still averting his eyes. I sorta get it, though. I’d be ashamed to fool around with me, too. He gestures towards my phone. Why does he want to see my phone?! I don’t know why I do it, but I hand it to him. He snatches it from my hand and messes around with it for a moment with a very serious look written on his features. I’m breathing in short, ragged huffs. Before I can have a full meltdown over my own stupidity for handing it over, he passes it back. It’s open to my contacts. He added himself in my phone…?
“Craig…” I read the name out loud slowly, like it’s a foreign word.
The guy’s name is Craig. My heart skips a beat and I feel like I’m floating. His name is Craig and he added himself to my phone. It doesn’t feel real.
“You should text me the next time you’re coming out for a smoke,” he speaks in a stilted sort of way, like he’s awkwardly and cautiously chosen what to say and how to say it.
All I can do is blink a few times in disbelief.
“Only if you want to!” Craig tacks on hastily and looks remarkably flustered. “I…I should head home.”
I stare at him vacantly, at a complete loss. Is he serious? Is he fucking with me? I watch him in a trance-like state as fixes his clothing just enough to be decent and then he turns and walks away in the opposite direction. And then he’s gone. I’m alone. I’m freezing cold, it’s extremely late at night, and I’m filthy. And yet… I feel like I could do just about anything. My legs start walking on their own. I’m light on my feet but I still watch my ugly boots trod over the salted pavement. When I get back to my lonely studio apartment, I’m going to text him. Maybe I’ll meet him in the morning. I’ll bring extra lighters next time.