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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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This story doesn't take place in the healthiest of settings, but I will always remember it fondly in the sense of enlightenment to a kink that I hadn't fully realised until the moment it actually first occurred.
I was 20 and in a relationship with a woman who had just started university. She had not long turned 18 and I was hardly well versed in the complexity of turning a local relationship into a functioning long distance one (I'm pretty sure that's a very common thing amongst university aged couples). I would visit her whenever I could and stay in the magnolia crayon-skimmed breezeblock cells that feign to be living accommodation,trying my best to be unobtrusive enough to her roommates so that they wouldn't alert my presence to whomever ran the halls.
The flat mates on her corridor were nice enough. A stereotypical group of young teens exhilarated by the prospect of being outside of the watchful eye of parents for likely the first time, and choosing to use this lack of discipline to consume the most copious amounts of alcohol possible at every opportunity. I was happy to join in, and didn't find anything particularly disturbing about how openly flirtatious everybody seemed to be. I did, however, notice the particular attention one of the guys from the halls above hers paid her when we were in the communal living room drinking what felt like our weight in suspicious sparsely titled white labelled spirit bottles. He would talk to everyone in the room, but his attempts at wit and playful verbal digs were directed only at my girlfriend at the time.
This didn't particularly bother me. If anything it was almost complimentary. I wouldn't ever consider a partner my property, but the very fact that someone else takes a liking to someone that you are involved with does give a slight ego boost. I didn't feel threatened either, since it seemed from her reactions that my wit and small talk was far more to her liking than his was. He was far more toned and physical than myself, and could likely have taken my down quicker than the vodka shots seemed to drop, but I felt confident I could talk him under the table.
Anyway, one evening when the communal kitchen once again became the local bar for half of the building, I was feeling a bit under the weather. After a few drinks I told my then girlfriend that I would go to her room and have a lie down, and hopefully sleep it off and come back in an hour or so. I slipped into the frustratingly narrow single bed, pulled the tiny duvet over my alcohol filled stomach and got some sleep.
I awoke far later than intended, and not to the noise of d*unken teenagers that I anticipated in the adjoining living room. The halls were silent. At first I felt a bit sullen that I had missed the rest of the party, but then I began to be more worried that she wasn't sleeping in the small single bed beside me (or passed out on the floor beside it, which sometimes happened since she was too dainty to roll me over, especially if under the influence of alcohol as well). I got out of bed, went to the door and chucked on whatever clothes were crumpled infront of it. The hallway was dark for all of the millisecond it took for the motion sensor to illuminate the empty hallway. There was no point checking the living room, I could see from the glass panels that nobody was in there. So I began walking toward the stairwell. On the way, I had to pass the bathroom for the corridors, and noticed the red flash of sticker that indicated it was in use. I thought it may have been her in there, and was about to knock when I heard a male voice inside. Obviously, it was the flirticaious guy from the halls above, and probably even more obviously given where I'm choosing to tell this story, it wasn't really words he was uttering, but moans. I approached the door with half of my mind pretending it was curious as to who was in there with him, but the other half was more honest and already knew. It was practically dawn and every room in the halls occupants seemed to be accounted for, other than her. I didn't even need to hear her voice, since even through the door I could easily recognise the muffled spluttering and gasps of a woman with a full mouth that I'd heard many times myself before.
The first instinct was to bang on the door and try and break it down. I was furious, but something held me back. The more I heard, the more I felt the anger turn to exhilaration. It built higher and higher as I heard him fucking her mouth, and her devilishly lustfully sounding acceptance of him. I looked down my body and realised, almost completely to my own surprise, that my dick had become the more likely culprit to break the door down at that point than my fists. I listened closer, my hand sliding down my boxers shorts and grabbing myself as she gave him what he had wanted all night during the party. As I heard the telltale quicken of his panting, and the heightened filth the form of his words took, I knew he was close. I got so close myself at the same time, but was too aware that when he was finished they could exit the bathroom at any time, and I didn't want to be caught catching them. I snuck off back to her room and, sure enough, about a minute later she snuck back sheepishly in the slither of light that protruded from the hallway, following her into our room until the firedoor chain slammed any light from our surroundings. She snuck herself into the covers without saying a word, not knowing whether I was awake or not, perhaps hoping I wasn't. However, by this point I was absolutely drowned in adrenaline and confusion and libido. I didn't say a word, but positioned myself above her. She obviously noticed my erection, because she immediately placed her legs either side of my hips. I remember the very first moment, the precise rush, as my fingers pulled her knickers apart and my cock slid inside her to find it absolutely sodden already. Sucking his cock and taking his cum had made her so wet that the thrill for me almost made me orgasm as soon as the tip entered her. Luckily it didn't happen quite that quickly, and I had the chance to taste him from her lips as we writhed together in the tiny bed. I think that night was the hardest I ever Fucked her.
After the night, we discussed what had happened, and talked through how we both felt about it. We experimented a bit more, but we were quite naive as to how the whole thing would work (or wouldn't, as the case was). But, it did mean at times we had many other exciting nights like this one. The man for the halls above was very useful in that respect. Especially since if we found ourselves feeling particularly raunchy, it would be no great challenge to have her returning back to that room on short notice, coming back through that door, with a flustered face, sex smell almost as embroidered into her hoody as deep as the university insignia, and his cum cascading down her exposed thighs ready for me to clean up.
So, I just thought I'd share the story of how I first realised I enjoy a partner being very dirty to get the adrenaline flowing. But I'm also very glad that it started the travels in kink that allowed for it to be approached in a far more healthy way in relationships, and brought J and I to fab.
Plus, you know, it killed some time on a Sunday. |
