November 26, 2010
A fantasy sent into us today by the very intriguing Miss B.
A mistress is in supposed to be in control. She demands things of her devoted. She is to be pleased by him. She is adored by him.
It’s funny how even during a fabricated fantasy where (truly!) I tried to let the main character have his way with me; it’s still me in control, my pleasure, and his adoration. Read on for a peek into my latest fantasy starring your favorite players as well as, hell, it could even be you playing the lead role in this one…
My most recent fantasy, as described to my cuckold Derek just the other night while straddling his face, is fucking a man I only just met. We meet in a bar while I’m ordering drinks and Derek is waiting at the table. This young man is very flirty while sizing up my black, “fuck me” heels and low-neck dress. When the bartender brings over two drinks, the boy gives me a puzzled look. Quickly, I mention that I saw him earlier and on the off chance that he came over, I ordered two drinks. Derek is non-existent at this point.
My new interest is polite, only glances at my ass when he thinks I’m not looking. We may have titillating conversation. We may not. It doesn’t matter. I suck down my cocktail in less than 2 minutes. “Are you going to finish that?” I refer to his drink. Before he has a chance to respond, I grab the drink and with my other hand guide my new flirt away from the bar. In among the crowd, I grab a hold of his hand using it as a leash to pull him close behind me. While we make our way to the bathroom, I pass Derek and give him a wink.
Pulling this stranger into the bathroom after me, I push him up against the wall, hand him his drink and lock the door behind us. He has a quizzical look on his face, but before he even gets a chance to speak I thrust my tongue into his mouth. He doesn’t need a second invitation. His drink slips from his hand, glass smashing on the tile floor. Neither of us cares. His hands are all over me. His lust rising like a desperate heat; there could be an earthquake and he wouldn’t notice. His groping hands pull my dress straps down, exposing my bra-less breasts. His breath is coming in short gasps, like licking me is more important than breathing. He grabs the back of my thighs and wordlessly hoists me up onto the edge of the sink. His attention is momentarily distracted from me as he’s fumbling with the fly on his jeans.
After what seems like forever (my cunt is aching to have this exciting, new cock inside me), he pulls his dick free. It’s rock hard and almost like he’s been waiting for this moment all night. He grabs onto my hair with one hand pulling my head back, tugging hard. And with his other hand he forcefully shoves his hard cock into my sweet, wet pussy. A guttural groan LOUDLY escapes his lips. If I hadn’t been in the middle of my fantasy, I might have been worried if anyone out in the bar heard him. He thrusts into me, groping at my chest, my neck, my mouth. He has smeared my lipstick across my face and is staring at me with half-closed eyes, squinting with pleasure. I have one arm behind me, holding onto the sink; my other hand is wrapped around the back of his neck holding him near. My legs spread open, panties tossed aside, forgotten. I clench my ass in tune to his ever-increasing thrusts. I drive my pelvis forward, our momentum growing together until both of us cry out. His groans are animalistic, barbaric and evidence that he is all about his own pleasure, his own fuck. I love it. My head flies back. I’m actually shrieking when I coat his cock with my cum.
I love the idea of some stranger fucking me like his life depends on it. I fantasize about a man who doesn’t care about my comfort or my orgasm, and just fucks, fucks me hard and fast. During tonight’s fantasy should I imagine it’s you fucking me?
Submitted by - Miss B - USA
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