I still get hard thinking about that night, how she looked up at me with those dark eyes while her lips stretched around my cock, spit already dripping down her chin, and started talking like it was the most natural thing in the world. We were in my apartment, lights low, her on her knees between my spread thighs on the couch. She had pulled my pants down slow, licked me from base to tip a few times, then took me deep without warning. Just when I was settling into the wet heat of her mouth she pulled off enough to speak, voice husky and a little muffled.
"You want to hear about the time I let two guys fuck me in the same night?" she asked, then sank back down, sucking hard on the head before I could answer. Her tongue swirled and I groaned, hand sliding into her hair. She bobbed a few times, cheeks hollowing, then came up again, strings of saliva connecting her mouth to my throbbing dick.
"The first one was at a party," she continued, licking along the underside like she was telling a bedtime story. "Tall guy, thick cock. I sucked him in the bathroom just like this." She demonstrated, taking me to the back of her throat in one smooth motion, holding there until her eyes watered, then pulling off with a wet pop. "He came fast down my throat. I swallowed every drop."
My hips jerked. She smiled around me, one hand stroking the base while her mouth worked the top, talking in short bursts between sucks. "Then I went home with his friend. Different cock, longer, curved just right. He bent me over the kitchen counter and fucked me from behind while I told him what I'd just done." She took me deeper again, gagging softly but not stopping, throat fluttering around me. I could feel every word vibrating through her tongue.
She kept going like that, mixing filthy details with the rhythm of her blowjob. The second guy had pulled her hair, slapped her ass, made her come twice before he filled her up. She described the stretch, the wet sounds, how she pushed back onto him, all while her own mouth was busy on me, saliva running down my balls. Every time she got to a hot part she would pause the story to focus on sucking harder, faster, then ease off to keep talking. It drove me insane. My cock was slick and aching, pulsing in her grip.
"I came so hard on his dick," she said, voice thick, lips shiny. "Then I turned around and cleaned him off with my mouth, just like I'm doing to you." She swallowed me again, deeper this time, nose brushing my stomach, holding until I thought I'd lose it. When she surfaced she was breathing hard, but she didn't stop the story. "I went home still tasting both of them. Got myself off again in the shower thinking about it."
I was close, gripping the couch cushions. She knew it. Her hand twisted on the shaft while her mouth focused on the head, sucking wet and noisy. She looked up again, eyes locked on mine. "Want me to finish the story while you come in my mouth?" she asked, then went back down without waiting for an answer.
The rest came out in broken sentences between deep sucks. How she had fingered herself later thinking about being used, how she wanted to do it again, how she loved the taste of cum after being fucked. Her tongue never stopped moving.
When I finally groaned and started to come she didn't pull away. She took it all, swallowing around me, the story cutting off into soft, satisfied hums as she milked every drop.
Afterward she licked me clean, slow and gentle, then rested her cheek on my thigh, looking up with a satisfied little smile. "Your turn to tell me a story next time," she said, voice hoarse. I was still catching my breath, but I already knew I'd be thinking about her mouth and those filthy confessions for days.
