Raw and heated – the horny American

Sometimes you just need sex. And I’m not talking about making love, the anticipation, the build-up, the foreplay. I am referring to those moments when you need the other person to just take control and take you in whatever way he wants. When I close my eyes and think back to that night, it still sends shivers down my spine.

I met him at a class. He was funny, witty, bright. We engaged in banter, batting the words back and forth, teasing, leading, beating one another. It was a competition of sorts. He was tall and had an open face. He always arrived late, carrying his biker’s helmet and jacket. The connection between us was instant and I found myself looking forward to the next week’s class, just so I could see him again. The second time we met, we went for a drink together after the class. Talking, laughing, joking. I told him I was about to get married. He told me about his ex-girlfriends and his love for literature. The pub closed and we walked back to his bike. He pushed me against a shop window, in plain view of the cars driving past and began to kiss me with such ferocity that I felt my knees weaken. He seemed to just scoop me up with his arms and I felt at his mercy. We parted that night, out of breath from desire for one another.

The following week I rushed to the class. Again, excited about seeing him there. He did not come and I was rather taken aback by my sense of disappointment. Then he texted, suggesting we meet on a different evening. My instinct told me that we would not be able to resist the strong sexual force between us. After meeting in a bar and chatting over a few drinks, he asked if he could stay. I nodded and we walked back to my place. The next few hours are etched in my memory.

As soon as I had opened the door and let us into the dark flat, he pushed me against the wall and began kissing me, exploring my mouth with his tongue. There was such force and pressure in his actions that I did not feel I could escape him, even if I’d wanted to. He pulled at my shirt, buttons popping open and reached for my breasts, sucking on my nipples and keeping my shoulder pressed to the wall. With his other hand, he hitched up my skirt and went straight for my cunt, thrusting his fingers inside me. I abandoned myself entirely to him, letting him lead me to the kitchen table, pushing me back on it, all the while keeping his fingers inside me. He ripped off my lace knickers and lifted my hips and ass towards him. I could not believe the speed and eagerness with which he moved. He bent over me and ate my cunt in a way that was so basic, so animalistic, such a turn on. There was nothing I could do, just close my eyes and let him lick and bite me, thrusting his fingers deep inside me.

He was still fully dressed, I was lying on the table, bare, exposed like a specimen for him to dissect. Suddenly he turned me over, my feet touching the floor, hips against the edge of the table and bent forward as one of his hands pushed me down and the other fumbled with his jeans. He used his knees to widen my legs and without warning thrust his hard cock inside me. I could barely breathe for excitement. He fucked me hard. From behind until he came, doubling over my body, his weight pressing me down against the cold hard wood.

Sometimes you just need sex. Raw, heated sex.

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2 Comments

Filed under flings, General

2 responses to “Raw and heated – the horny American

  1. That was lustfully hot. I’m jealous!

  2. Pingback: The roll call « Serialadulterer's Blog

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