Author's Note: This is the first part of a much longer project I started writing on pass the time in quarantine. I would welcome any feedback as I have never tried to do anything like this before. I desperately need a better title!
My name is Sophia, and I’m a very bored twenty-two year old writing this from COVID-19 lock down in a large, southern California city. I’ve never tried to write anything remotely like this before, so we’ll see how this goes. We’re all bored right?
So, I’ll start where I guess my journey really begins, about halfway through senior year of high school, a few weeks after my eighteenth birthday. A little about me first, though. I grew up just outside of Los Angeles, and I was a pretty typical high school student. Like many of my peers, my big focus at that point was getting into a good college like Berkeley, UCLA, or maybe one of the top out of state ones if I could get a scholarship. My other big thing was running cross country, which kept me pretty fit, if a bit on the slender side. I wasn’t the most popular girl at my school by any means, but I was definitely a lot farther up the high school social ladder than down it. My family isn’t rich, but we are definitely pretty well off, and I never wanted for anything. I had lots of friends, and overall a fun life, but a can’t say I was that unique. If you called me a basic white girl, you wouldn’t be wrong. I had a few boyfriends that I had sex with during high school, usually guys a year or two ahead of me, but I wasn’t particularly promiscuous beyond that. So if you find yourself wondering later, why is she like this, it’s not because of some kind of bullying or trauma or anything. My parents were supportive but not strict or overbearing, and I got along fine with my two older siblings. My dad took me to Dodgers games and my big brother taught me to surf. I’m a painfully stereotypical and generally happy California girl—not sorry for that at all—and I had a great life growing up.
Going into senior year I had been dating a guy that had started at USC that August, and even though it wasn’t that far away, we drifted apart pretty fast. He kind of low key ghosted me actually, and a little over halfway through the year I was clearly single, and not at all heartbroken about it to be honest. I kind of knew things would probably go that way, and even if they didn’t, I knew the chances of keeping that relationship going once I graduated and went to college as well were pretty slim. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I really wanted it to. So that’s the exposition—on to the real story.
One of the things I did a few days a week was go to a gym not far from my house after school. My mom had a membership there she rarely used, and I was on it too. At times over the previous year or so, I’d seen this really attractive black guy working out who looked in his mid twenties or so. He seemed nice, with a great smile and that kind of good natured cockiness hot guys with some actual maturity tend to have. He had hit on me a few times in the past, not in an obnoxious way, and was cool about it when I told him I had a boyfriend. There was some of the typical banter about “oh you don’t fuck with brothers,” and me of course saying no, that’s not it, but it wasn’t at all obnoxious—just fun flirting. We’d say hi when we saw one another and usually chat for a minute. I knew his name was Lincoln, but that was about it. I was flattered by the attention from this handsome older guy, so I often “just happened” to end up finishing my workout around the same time as he did, resulting in us bumping into each other. We’d talk, and I’d get a “you still got that boyfriend” from him, but he never pushed it much when I said yeah. The particular time when I guess this story really starts, a Wednesday evening, I saw him on both of our ways out (totally not on purpose, I promise), and when he asked me that question—it was almost a running joke with us at that point—I said, “No actually. He kind of ghosted me. He must have found someone he was more interested in at USC. Happy eighteenth birthday to me, right?” I gave him a smile to show it wasn’t a big deal.
“Oh really?” Lincoln responded, “That’s sucks—you o.k. with it?”
“Sure—I knew it was going to happen eventually, and I’m fine with it. I’ll be in college next year, probably not at USC, so it’s not like it was going to last anyway, right?”
“Probably not,” he agreed with a nice laugh. He was super chill about it, and we chatted a few more minutes. As we were about to part ways, he was like, “Hey you want to grab some lunch and talk about it?”
I was excited, though I didn’t want to show it, and told him yes to lunch, but let’s talk about literally anything else. He agreed, giving me a charming, cocky grin that seemed to say he knew he was getting what he wanted eventually (spoiler alert, he does). We ended up going to a seafood place that was a few blocks away. We had a great lunch, and I found out Lincoln was twenty-four, an electrician in the IBEW who worked contract jobs through the union all over the LA area. He’d joined the Navy after high school, and learned his trade there. After four years of that, he’d gone right into an apprenticeship with the IBEW. He’d finished that, and was now working jobs either on his own or with another, more experienced electrician if it was something super complicated. He worked jobs at the Port of Los Angeles a lot, I assumed because he had experience with ships already from the Navy or something. He wasn’t one of those people who can only talk about themselves, thankfully. I was having a really good time, and was totally open to hanging out with him again. To be honest, I was afraid he’d remember I was still in high school and wouldn’t take me seriously even though I was eighteen by that point, but it turned out he did want to see me more. Now, it’s not like I had any illusions about what he really wanted—I was young but not totally naive—and I was fine with it, thinking why not have a senior fling with this super hot guy, right?
So we exchanged numbers and planned to go out that Saturday night, which wasn’t going to be a problem for me. My parents pretty much let me do what I wanted within reason as long as my grades were good, which they absolutely were. I picked out a cute sun dress, wanting to look good for him, but not like I was thirsty. I have long brown hair and decided to wear it down, thinking he’d like that. He picked me up in a pretty nice SUV, and we drove toward the beach to find a fun place to eat. After a nice dinner and a walk, Lincoln asked if I wanted to go to his place and get high, and I was all for it. It turned out he had an apartment near the beach that he shared with his cousin. It was a really nice place, more of a townhouse really, and I felt bad at being a little surprised by that fact. Apparently being an electrician pays pretty well, and I was thinking it would not be that great of a place not knowing that at the time, which, yeah, judgey on my part, I know. I don’t think my surprise showed at all, thankfully. His cousin James, who he’d told me was two years older, was there hanging out with another guy, watching TV. I met them both (the other guy was named Delvin), and after some small talk, Lincoln was like hey lets go upstairs and get high. He grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge (they had a great open kitchen) and took me upstairs to his room.
He put on some music turned down low, rolled a joint, and we sat on his bed chatting, sipping beer, and getting stoned. He was into kind of old school early 2000s rap like Tupac, Snoop, and Dre, which I was enjoying getting high listening to. It wasn’t long before we stared making out. He was a little over six feet tall to my five-six, which I loved, and had such a killer body. He was also not the slightest bit tentative, which was a new experience for me. I guess I’m pretty enough that guys my age had tended to be a little hesitant and even deferential at first with me in situations like this, which I really didn’t like. With Lincoln, there was none of that. He totally took charge—no hesitation. He was all over me, pretty quickly getting my dress off. I was soon wearing just my panties, stoned as fuck, and kissing my way down his muscular chest to his abs. He had this gorgeous caramel skin, and I was super turned on by how it contrasted with mine. He not only had a six-pack, but also those muscles running from the bottom of his stomach to his hips at an angle—know the ones I mean? God, I love that, and they were a thing I had never seen in real life before.
It was obvious what he wanted, and I was totally willing to give it to him. I genuinely love giving head, and even back then, I felt like I was pretty good at it. He had a perfect dick, just the right size—big and thick, but not to the point that you’d think it would hurt or anything. I could take a little more than half of him in my mouth, and I did, trying to make good eye contact at the same time, knowing he’d like that. He was looking back down at me, a fist full of my hair in his hand, not really forsing anything, just guiding me a little. I was taking as much of him as I could down my throat, and was super into the dominant role he was taking. I also found out pretty quickly that he liked to talk. At first it was just a few things, “Yeah right there, take it, good girl,” type of stuff. Still, I’d never been talked to like that before, and it turned me on even more. I tried to take him even deeper, gagging a little. I could hear him kind of chuckle, and felt his hands on my ass, slowly rubbing and grabbing, a little rough, but it felt really good. It was like he was feeling the situation out, seeing exactly how in control he was, how far he could take things, and I’m sure he could tell I wasn’t resistant at all.
At that point, I was on all fours kind of angled to one side, still sucking his cock, and I felt his hand leave my ass. Before I could even really process that, he hit my ass, openhanded and hard. Not hard enough to really hurt, but way more than a playful smack. I kind of whimpered around his cock, and heard that low, short laugh from him again.
“Yeah you like that don’t you?” I did, a lot. My last boyfriend had spanked me a few times, but not hard or anything, like he wasn’t sure if he even should be doing it. This was much different and way better. I stopped sucking him just long enough to pant “Yes,” and was rewarded with another hard smack, on the other side of my ass.
I heard him chuckle again,“Knew you would.” I knew I wasn’t at all in control of the situation, but, whatever, I had never been more turned on. I kept trying to take him as deep down my throat as I could, and I could tell it was working. I thought, o.k. cool I’ll finish him off like this, perfect. I wanted to, too—I wanted to make him cum. He pulled me off his dick by my hair though, and demanded, “Get on those balls.” No problem there, I thought. He had nice balls, big and smooth, and I licked and gently sucked at them, thinking that would get him off even faster.
Maybe not. I felt another hard smack to my ass, and and then him pulling my panties to one side. His fingers parted my labia, much more gently than he had been elsewhere so far, and after a few seconds of teasing, he started to finger me. It never crossed my mind to object—the only thing I thought somewhere in the back of my mind was that I was a little stubbly because I hadn’t shaved down there for a minute. Leaving for our date earlier that evening I guess I wasn’t thinking he’d have his fingers in my vagina, which, yeah, well, here we were. I don’t think he cared at all though. Still fingering me, he pulled me up by my hair again and said “Back on it.” I kissed and licked the head of his cock for a few seconds, looking up at him, then obediently took him as far down as I could, gagging a little again. His finger was teasing at my clit by now, and I was super wet and turned on. It was like all of my higher brain functions had basically shut down; Lincoln was in total control and I’m sure he knew it by then.
After a few more minutes of this, he pulled me off his cock by my hair, and smacked my ass again. He had been kind of lying back so I could go down on him, but he started to get up, pulling my head up so I was looking at him. “You know what time it is.” I knew he was going to fuck me unless I objected. I thought, fuck it, I’m on the pill and it wasn’t like I didn’t plan on this happening pretty soon anyway. I definitely did not not want him to stop now, that was for sure.
I tried to lay back, thinking that was what he wanted, but he stopped me. “No, face down.” He pushed my head down toward the pillows he’d been laying back on, with another hard smack to my ass as he angled my hips upward to where he wanted them. I think I must have moaned loudly again when he’d spanked me, because I heard him laugh and say. “Yeah, that’s right white girl.” I felt the tip of his super hard cock teasing at my labia, kind of rubbing up and down, and then he was inside me with one long, slow thrust. It didn’t hurt at all—he was the perfect size, I was wet as fuck, and I almost came right then. Holy ******* I had never felt so full. He started to fuck me, slowly at first, in a way that was simultaneously sensual and dominating, picking up the pace as he went. Soon he was slamming me pretty hard, and I could feel his balls banging against my ass with each thrust. He still had that fist full of my hair and was pulling my head back toward him a little, which turned me on even more. I'm sure that was because it reinforced how completely I’d given up all control to this guy. I was moaning incoherently as he accented every few thrusts by spanking me, a thing I was quickly learning I absolutely loved. I honestly don’t know how long this went on or how many times I came. (It was a lot of times.) Eventually though, Lincoln slowed down, then stopped. He slowly pulled out of me, smacking me hard on the ass yet again. “Turn over.” I obeyed, rolling over onto my back.
He was smiling down at me with that same cocky grin that was really more of a smirk, and he spread my legs wide. I could feel the tip of his cock kind of teasing at me again, up and down like before, and then he was inside me for the second time. It was another long, slow thrust, and felt it even better than the first time. I love missionary, and this was different and way better than anything I’d felt with the handful of guys close to my age I’d been with up to that point. He was bigger for one thing, and so deep inside me, but it was more that he actually knew what he was doing. There was no hesitation at all; he wanted me, he was taking me, and I was totally here for it.
At that point, he was playing with my clit while he fucked me. That had exactly the effect you’d expect, and I guess I was being pretty loud, because the small part of my brain not totally focused on how his penis was making me feel heard his cousin and that other guy shouting what was probably congratulations or something at him from downstairs. I didn’t give a *******, though. This was by far the best sex I had ever had and that was all I cared about right then. The shouting must have encouraged Lincoln though, because he started fucking me much more aggressively. He took his hand off my clit and grabbed my throat, not ******* me, just a firm grip. It probably should have scared me as I barely knew this guy, but it didn’t at all. It had the same effect as the spanking, putting me in this submissive, insanely turned on headspace where I just wanted to let him do whatever he wanted to me. He was definitely doing exactly that, and by now he was also talking a lot.
“Take it—fuck your college boyfriend, you with a grown man now. Fuck that white boy! You takin’ my black dick now.”
Both my hands were kind of gripping his forearm, looking small in comparison, and that sight combined with his sort of demeaning dirty talk was driving me crazy. I came hard, and moaned something at him like, “Yes, yes, so good baby.”
He must have liked whatever I was babbling at him, because he smirked at me and was like, “That’s right bitch, I’m balls deep in your tight little pussy.”
His hand tightened around my throat for a second as he said that, and he kept boning me. He aggressively fucked me like this for at least ten more minutes, then abruptly pulled out and grabbed me by my hair again, moving his body forward and pulling my head toward his penis. I had been thinking this was how he’d eventually cum when all this started, (I just hadn’t planned on getting my brains fucked out in between), and I took him in my mouth again, eager to show him how good I could be at oral. I gently sucked, long and slow. I could taste myself on his dick obviously, but I didn’t mind at all—it was just kind of strangely erotic. Lincoln was basically kneeing over me, and I was able to put one hand around his dick to stroke him while I sucked. I fondled his balls with my other hand, and after just a few seconds I could feel them throbbing as he came in my mouth. I swallowed a few times as he came—it was a lot, but I was able to get everything down—then gently sucked him for a few more seconds longer. I could tell he really liked that by the loud “Fuck” he groaned as I did it. I collapsed back onto the bed, looking up at him a little dazed.
“Holy ******* that was amazing Lincoln.” I was sweaty, overwhelmed, and literally weak in the knees. I couldn’t have gotten up right then for anything in the world.
“Fuck yeah it was girl.” Lincoln had rolled over to lay on his back next to me. After a minute, I rolled over onto my side, kind of cuddled up next to him while he recovered. I lazily kissed his bicep and looked down, noticing that he was still like half hard. It had only been a few minutes, right? I thought to myself that if he’s like this stoned I almost don’t want to think what he’d do to me without anything to mellow him out a little. Then I heard more shouting from the peanut gallery downstairs.
“Oh my god, are they going to keep doing that?” I asked with a tired laugh.
“They’re just fuckin’ with me. Ignore that *******," he said with that husky laugh he had. Want to smoke another one?” I took a long sip of now warmish beer and said yes. We got high again and chatted some more, and after a while he got his phone and got an Uber for me. He was too stoned to drive and I needed to get home at a reasonable hour. He went downstairs with me to wait, and of course James and Devin fucked with us, but in a good natured way. I was a little embarrassed by that, but also stoned, and they were both pretty funny, so I didn’t mind that much. I learned that James and Devin were around the same age and worked together as financial advisors for an investment firm. Lincoln had told me a little more about being an electrician when we were getting high before we fucked, so I was beginning to understand how they had such a nice place. I mean that kitchen, holy *******—granite. What single guy has that? Anyway, I tried to fix my hair and makeup a little in the Uber, and I was glad my parents were already in bed when I got home. I’m sure I still looked stoned and like I’d just been fucked silly, which, fair. I undressed and fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched my pillow.
TO BE CONTINUED
My name is Sophia, and I’m a very bored twenty-two year old writing this from COVID-19 lock down in a large, southern California city. I’ve never tried to write anything remotely like this before, so we’ll see how this goes. We’re all bored right?
So, I’ll start where I guess my journey really begins, about halfway through senior year of high school, a few weeks after my eighteenth birthday. A little about me first, though. I grew up just outside of Los Angeles, and I was a pretty typical high school student. Like many of my peers, my big focus at that point was getting into a good college like Berkeley, UCLA, or maybe one of the top out of state ones if I could get a scholarship. My other big thing was running cross country, which kept me pretty fit, if a bit on the slender side. I wasn’t the most popular girl at my school by any means, but I was definitely a lot farther up the high school social ladder than down it. My family isn’t rich, but we are definitely pretty well off, and I never wanted for anything. I had lots of friends, and overall a fun life, but a can’t say I was that unique. If you called me a basic white girl, you wouldn’t be wrong. I had a few boyfriends that I had sex with during high school, usually guys a year or two ahead of me, but I wasn’t particularly promiscuous beyond that. So if you find yourself wondering later, why is she like this, it’s not because of some kind of bullying or trauma or anything. My parents were supportive but not strict or overbearing, and I got along fine with my two older siblings. My dad took me to Dodgers games and my big brother taught me to surf. I’m a painfully stereotypical and generally happy California girl—not sorry for that at all—and I had a great life growing up.
Going into senior year I had been dating a guy that had started at USC that August, and even though it wasn’t that far away, we drifted apart pretty fast. He kind of low key ghosted me actually, and a little over halfway through the year I was clearly single, and not at all heartbroken about it to be honest. I kind of knew things would probably go that way, and even if they didn’t, I knew the chances of keeping that relationship going once I graduated and went to college as well were pretty slim. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I really wanted it to. So that’s the exposition—on to the real story.
One of the things I did a few days a week was go to a gym not far from my house after school. My mom had a membership there she rarely used, and I was on it too. At times over the previous year or so, I’d seen this really attractive black guy working out who looked in his mid twenties or so. He seemed nice, with a great smile and that kind of good natured cockiness hot guys with some actual maturity tend to have. He had hit on me a few times in the past, not in an obnoxious way, and was cool about it when I told him I had a boyfriend. There was some of the typical banter about “oh you don’t fuck with brothers,” and me of course saying no, that’s not it, but it wasn’t at all obnoxious—just fun flirting. We’d say hi when we saw one another and usually chat for a minute. I knew his name was Lincoln, but that was about it. I was flattered by the attention from this handsome older guy, so I often “just happened” to end up finishing my workout around the same time as he did, resulting in us bumping into each other. We’d talk, and I’d get a “you still got that boyfriend” from him, but he never pushed it much when I said yeah. The particular time when I guess this story really starts, a Wednesday evening, I saw him on both of our ways out (totally not on purpose, I promise), and when he asked me that question—it was almost a running joke with us at that point—I said, “No actually. He kind of ghosted me. He must have found someone he was more interested in at USC. Happy eighteenth birthday to me, right?” I gave him a smile to show it wasn’t a big deal.
“Oh really?” Lincoln responded, “That’s sucks—you o.k. with it?”
“Sure—I knew it was going to happen eventually, and I’m fine with it. I’ll be in college next year, probably not at USC, so it’s not like it was going to last anyway, right?”
“Probably not,” he agreed with a nice laugh. He was super chill about it, and we chatted a few more minutes. As we were about to part ways, he was like, “Hey you want to grab some lunch and talk about it?”
I was excited, though I didn’t want to show it, and told him yes to lunch, but let’s talk about literally anything else. He agreed, giving me a charming, cocky grin that seemed to say he knew he was getting what he wanted eventually (spoiler alert, he does). We ended up going to a seafood place that was a few blocks away. We had a great lunch, and I found out Lincoln was twenty-four, an electrician in the IBEW who worked contract jobs through the union all over the LA area. He’d joined the Navy after high school, and learned his trade there. After four years of that, he’d gone right into an apprenticeship with the IBEW. He’d finished that, and was now working jobs either on his own or with another, more experienced electrician if it was something super complicated. He worked jobs at the Port of Los Angeles a lot, I assumed because he had experience with ships already from the Navy or something. He wasn’t one of those people who can only talk about themselves, thankfully. I was having a really good time, and was totally open to hanging out with him again. To be honest, I was afraid he’d remember I was still in high school and wouldn’t take me seriously even though I was eighteen by that point, but it turned out he did want to see me more. Now, it’s not like I had any illusions about what he really wanted—I was young but not totally naive—and I was fine with it, thinking why not have a senior fling with this super hot guy, right?
So we exchanged numbers and planned to go out that Saturday night, which wasn’t going to be a problem for me. My parents pretty much let me do what I wanted within reason as long as my grades were good, which they absolutely were. I picked out a cute sun dress, wanting to look good for him, but not like I was thirsty. I have long brown hair and decided to wear it down, thinking he’d like that. He picked me up in a pretty nice SUV, and we drove toward the beach to find a fun place to eat. After a nice dinner and a walk, Lincoln asked if I wanted to go to his place and get high, and I was all for it. It turned out he had an apartment near the beach that he shared with his cousin. It was a really nice place, more of a townhouse really, and I felt bad at being a little surprised by that fact. Apparently being an electrician pays pretty well, and I was thinking it would not be that great of a place not knowing that at the time, which, yeah, judgey on my part, I know. I don’t think my surprise showed at all, thankfully. His cousin James, who he’d told me was two years older, was there hanging out with another guy, watching TV. I met them both (the other guy was named Delvin), and after some small talk, Lincoln was like hey lets go upstairs and get high. He grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge (they had a great open kitchen) and took me upstairs to his room.
He put on some music turned down low, rolled a joint, and we sat on his bed chatting, sipping beer, and getting stoned. He was into kind of old school early 2000s rap like Tupac, Snoop, and Dre, which I was enjoying getting high listening to. It wasn’t long before we stared making out. He was a little over six feet tall to my five-six, which I loved, and had such a killer body. He was also not the slightest bit tentative, which was a new experience for me. I guess I’m pretty enough that guys my age had tended to be a little hesitant and even deferential at first with me in situations like this, which I really didn’t like. With Lincoln, there was none of that. He totally took charge—no hesitation. He was all over me, pretty quickly getting my dress off. I was soon wearing just my panties, stoned as fuck, and kissing my way down his muscular chest to his abs. He had this gorgeous caramel skin, and I was super turned on by how it contrasted with mine. He not only had a six-pack, but also those muscles running from the bottom of his stomach to his hips at an angle—know the ones I mean? God, I love that, and they were a thing I had never seen in real life before.
It was obvious what he wanted, and I was totally willing to give it to him. I genuinely love giving head, and even back then, I felt like I was pretty good at it. He had a perfect dick, just the right size—big and thick, but not to the point that you’d think it would hurt or anything. I could take a little more than half of him in my mouth, and I did, trying to make good eye contact at the same time, knowing he’d like that. He was looking back down at me, a fist full of my hair in his hand, not really forsing anything, just guiding me a little. I was taking as much of him as I could down my throat, and was super into the dominant role he was taking. I also found out pretty quickly that he liked to talk. At first it was just a few things, “Yeah right there, take it, good girl,” type of stuff. Still, I’d never been talked to like that before, and it turned me on even more. I tried to take him even deeper, gagging a little. I could hear him kind of chuckle, and felt his hands on my ass, slowly rubbing and grabbing, a little rough, but it felt really good. It was like he was feeling the situation out, seeing exactly how in control he was, how far he could take things, and I’m sure he could tell I wasn’t resistant at all.
At that point, I was on all fours kind of angled to one side, still sucking his cock, and I felt his hand leave my ass. Before I could even really process that, he hit my ass, openhanded and hard. Not hard enough to really hurt, but way more than a playful smack. I kind of whimpered around his cock, and heard that low, short laugh from him again.
“Yeah you like that don’t you?” I did, a lot. My last boyfriend had spanked me a few times, but not hard or anything, like he wasn’t sure if he even should be doing it. This was much different and way better. I stopped sucking him just long enough to pant “Yes,” and was rewarded with another hard smack, on the other side of my ass.
I heard him chuckle again,“Knew you would.” I knew I wasn’t at all in control of the situation, but, whatever, I had never been more turned on. I kept trying to take him as deep down my throat as I could, and I could tell it was working. I thought, o.k. cool I’ll finish him off like this, perfect. I wanted to, too—I wanted to make him cum. He pulled me off his dick by my hair though, and demanded, “Get on those balls.” No problem there, I thought. He had nice balls, big and smooth, and I licked and gently sucked at them, thinking that would get him off even faster.
Maybe not. I felt another hard smack to my ass, and and then him pulling my panties to one side. His fingers parted my labia, much more gently than he had been elsewhere so far, and after a few seconds of teasing, he started to finger me. It never crossed my mind to object—the only thing I thought somewhere in the back of my mind was that I was a little stubbly because I hadn’t shaved down there for a minute. Leaving for our date earlier that evening I guess I wasn’t thinking he’d have his fingers in my vagina, which, yeah, well, here we were. I don’t think he cared at all though. Still fingering me, he pulled me up by my hair again and said “Back on it.” I kissed and licked the head of his cock for a few seconds, looking up at him, then obediently took him as far down as I could, gagging a little again. His finger was teasing at my clit by now, and I was super wet and turned on. It was like all of my higher brain functions had basically shut down; Lincoln was in total control and I’m sure he knew it by then.
After a few more minutes of this, he pulled me off his cock by my hair, and smacked my ass again. He had been kind of lying back so I could go down on him, but he started to get up, pulling my head up so I was looking at him. “You know what time it is.” I knew he was going to fuck me unless I objected. I thought, fuck it, I’m on the pill and it wasn’t like I didn’t plan on this happening pretty soon anyway. I definitely did not not want him to stop now, that was for sure.
I tried to lay back, thinking that was what he wanted, but he stopped me. “No, face down.” He pushed my head down toward the pillows he’d been laying back on, with another hard smack to my ass as he angled my hips upward to where he wanted them. I think I must have moaned loudly again when he’d spanked me, because I heard him laugh and say. “Yeah, that’s right white girl.” I felt the tip of his super hard cock teasing at my labia, kind of rubbing up and down, and then he was inside me with one long, slow thrust. It didn’t hurt at all—he was the perfect size, I was wet as fuck, and I almost came right then. Holy ******* I had never felt so full. He started to fuck me, slowly at first, in a way that was simultaneously sensual and dominating, picking up the pace as he went. Soon he was slamming me pretty hard, and I could feel his balls banging against my ass with each thrust. He still had that fist full of my hair and was pulling my head back toward him a little, which turned me on even more. I'm sure that was because it reinforced how completely I’d given up all control to this guy. I was moaning incoherently as he accented every few thrusts by spanking me, a thing I was quickly learning I absolutely loved. I honestly don’t know how long this went on or how many times I came. (It was a lot of times.) Eventually though, Lincoln slowed down, then stopped. He slowly pulled out of me, smacking me hard on the ass yet again. “Turn over.” I obeyed, rolling over onto my back.
He was smiling down at me with that same cocky grin that was really more of a smirk, and he spread my legs wide. I could feel the tip of his cock kind of teasing at me again, up and down like before, and then he was inside me for the second time. It was another long, slow thrust, and felt it even better than the first time. I love missionary, and this was different and way better than anything I’d felt with the handful of guys close to my age I’d been with up to that point. He was bigger for one thing, and so deep inside me, but it was more that he actually knew what he was doing. There was no hesitation at all; he wanted me, he was taking me, and I was totally here for it.
At that point, he was playing with my clit while he fucked me. That had exactly the effect you’d expect, and I guess I was being pretty loud, because the small part of my brain not totally focused on how his penis was making me feel heard his cousin and that other guy shouting what was probably congratulations or something at him from downstairs. I didn’t give a *******, though. This was by far the best sex I had ever had and that was all I cared about right then. The shouting must have encouraged Lincoln though, because he started fucking me much more aggressively. He took his hand off my clit and grabbed my throat, not ******* me, just a firm grip. It probably should have scared me as I barely knew this guy, but it didn’t at all. It had the same effect as the spanking, putting me in this submissive, insanely turned on headspace where I just wanted to let him do whatever he wanted to me. He was definitely doing exactly that, and by now he was also talking a lot.
“Take it—fuck your college boyfriend, you with a grown man now. Fuck that white boy! You takin’ my black dick now.”
Both my hands were kind of gripping his forearm, looking small in comparison, and that sight combined with his sort of demeaning dirty talk was driving me crazy. I came hard, and moaned something at him like, “Yes, yes, so good baby.”
He must have liked whatever I was babbling at him, because he smirked at me and was like, “That’s right bitch, I’m balls deep in your tight little pussy.”
His hand tightened around my throat for a second as he said that, and he kept boning me. He aggressively fucked me like this for at least ten more minutes, then abruptly pulled out and grabbed me by my hair again, moving his body forward and pulling my head toward his penis. I had been thinking this was how he’d eventually cum when all this started, (I just hadn’t planned on getting my brains fucked out in between), and I took him in my mouth again, eager to show him how good I could be at oral. I gently sucked, long and slow. I could taste myself on his dick obviously, but I didn’t mind at all—it was just kind of strangely erotic. Lincoln was basically kneeing over me, and I was able to put one hand around his dick to stroke him while I sucked. I fondled his balls with my other hand, and after just a few seconds I could feel them throbbing as he came in my mouth. I swallowed a few times as he came—it was a lot, but I was able to get everything down—then gently sucked him for a few more seconds longer. I could tell he really liked that by the loud “Fuck” he groaned as I did it. I collapsed back onto the bed, looking up at him a little dazed.
“Holy ******* that was amazing Lincoln.” I was sweaty, overwhelmed, and literally weak in the knees. I couldn’t have gotten up right then for anything in the world.
“Fuck yeah it was girl.” Lincoln had rolled over to lay on his back next to me. After a minute, I rolled over onto my side, kind of cuddled up next to him while he recovered. I lazily kissed his bicep and looked down, noticing that he was still like half hard. It had only been a few minutes, right? I thought to myself that if he’s like this stoned I almost don’t want to think what he’d do to me without anything to mellow him out a little. Then I heard more shouting from the peanut gallery downstairs.
“Oh my god, are they going to keep doing that?” I asked with a tired laugh.
“They’re just fuckin’ with me. Ignore that *******," he said with that husky laugh he had. Want to smoke another one?” I took a long sip of now warmish beer and said yes. We got high again and chatted some more, and after a while he got his phone and got an Uber for me. He was too stoned to drive and I needed to get home at a reasonable hour. He went downstairs with me to wait, and of course James and Devin fucked with us, but in a good natured way. I was a little embarrassed by that, but also stoned, and they were both pretty funny, so I didn’t mind that much. I learned that James and Devin were around the same age and worked together as financial advisors for an investment firm. Lincoln had told me a little more about being an electrician when we were getting high before we fucked, so I was beginning to understand how they had such a nice place. I mean that kitchen, holy *******—granite. What single guy has that? Anyway, I tried to fix my hair and makeup a little in the Uber, and I was glad my parents were already in bed when I got home. I’m sure I still looked stoned and like I’d just been fucked silly, which, fair. I undressed and fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched my pillow.
TO BE CONTINUED
