3 comments/ 16098 views/ 3 favorites Faceless Fuck Ch. 01 By: Boheminxen I'd heard both sides of backpacking through Europe, the bad -- the horror stories of pretty American girls disappearing into an international sex trade and stolen possessions in the hostels --, and the good -- the friendly foreigners and their adoration for Americans, the amazing sights to see... But regardless of what was closer to the truth, the minute I graduated high school, I took a year off before heading to college to simply explore Europe with a couple weeks in India, New Zealand, and Australia towards the end. I was privileged to be able to do this, no doubt. My family's money paid for the necessities while my summer jobs and part-time work through the last half of my high school career would pay for my shopping. I had saved it all. I couldn't be more excited and the worries of my family were waved away with a youthful surety. But now that I was actually out on my own, I wasn't so confident. In fact, I was downright uncomfortable in some situations. Sometimes, I didn't know the language of the country, and foreigners would stare at me, unabashed and whisper in their native tongue amongst themselves. Other times, I found myself turned around and taking the wrong walkway into an alley that looked like it was in the complete wrong side of town. It wasn't all bad, of course. I was fascinated with every culture I found myself immersed in, like a child in Disneyland for the first time. I ate my weight in every city I visited, and then walked it off, through crowded streets, dashing in and out of mom-and-pop shops, duffel bag over my slender shoulder until it was so full that I ached to carry it any longer and the sun began to set. In fact, if I had to decide, it was mostly good. A few months into my trip and several stolen pillows later, I had learned my way around hostels well enough. The one I was staying in that night wasn't so bad, mostly filled with Americans, and some U.K. Beauties doing the same as I was. They were all fairly friendly and I ended up exchanging numbers and email addresses with a few of them, promising to keep in touch. When the lights went out, I discovered someone in the bed I had claimed the night before, but instead of picking a fight, I found an empty one. Exhausted, it was only a few minutes after I covered myself with my quilt and snuggled my duffel bag in my arms, that I was asleep. I awoke, no telling how long after wards, to someone sneaking back into the room, a little drunk from the sounds of their slight stumbling through the room. I couldn't help but giggle, just softly. His voice answered me gruffly, a husky whisper," You laughing at me? 'Cause this isn't funny." He was nearby and I bit my lip, unsure whether to be amused or frightened. I opted to be silent, instead. But he found me anyway, climbing into the bed with me, his musky scent a mixture of sweat, cigarettes, and pure male. I could smell the faintest of alcohol on his breath as it warmed my cheek. "And, you've stolen my bed," he accused me, although this time I could hear his amused tone, and feel his relaxed body movements as he settled in beside me, faceless in the darkness. "Someone else stole mine, and I've found it's better not to pick fights when you're traveling alone," I whispered, not quite minding this warm body pressed against mine. "Smart cookie," he whispered back, a chuckle deep in his throat, husky like his voice as his arm wrapped around me, a hand lazily finding its place on the small of my back. "But I'm not so sure about strangers in my bed," I teased, knowing that I wouldn't ask him to move, and even if I did, he was unlikely to budge. He felt solid, and his thumb was calloused as it drew circles on my soft skin. "Is there anything breakable in your duffel bag?" he asked, instead of rising to the bait. Caught off guard, I hesitated, but shook my head," No, not really. Why?" He didn't answer, but tugged it out of my arms. I didn't fight, somehow trusting this faceless stranger with the few belongings I was carrying with me for the trip. He slipped it beneath his head, and his large hands picked me up by the waist, firmly setting me on top of him. I gasped, a soft noise in the quiet room. His chuckle was, again, deep and low in his throat, a manly sound that made my thighs tighten and tingle. "You laughing at me? 'Cause this isn't funny," I quoted him, not resisting when his fingers tangled in my long hair, colorless in the night, and pulled my sweet lips down to his. The slightly acidic taste of beer was in our kiss, just faintly, but I didn't mind, as his tongue played with mine in a way high school and even college boys back home hadn't ever managed. Stubble prickled my cheeks, and chin, but his lips soothed the rough touches away as he persuaded me without words to fuck him. His fingers slipped under my shirt again and tugged it off, waiting for me to put my arms up like a little girl would, and then, kissing between my bra-less breasts, he nuzzled my generous cleavage. He hushed my quiet gasps and moans as his calloused thumbs teased my nipples to sensitive points, the cinnamon-colored buttons unable to be seen... but god, he didn't need the light. A wet tongue flicked out to wet them, and then his full lips wrapped around them, suckling gently, his teeth lightly scraping them. I found myself grinding on this complete stranger like a wanton slut, easily turned on with so little touch, and yet, it felt intimate, the way my body reacted to his skilled techniques. He laughed quietly, in my ear, as he pulled me down for another kiss, biting my lip, and then whispering against them," Love, we haven't even gotten started yet. Help me out of this damn shirt. And these damn jeans, too." I grinned, enjoying his sense of humor, and briefly wondering whether this could lead to more, or if I'd only know him as the stranger that gave me a night to remember. I didn't dwell, already blindly working on his buttons with nimble fingers, his own hands still teasing my breasts, massaging and gently squeezing them. When I was done, he pulled away and I helped him shrug out of his shirt, realizing how broad his shoulders were, and muscular, too. I bit my lip, wishing for light to see. "Do you like tattoos?" he asked in my ear, nibbling my ear lobe enough to make me giggle again. I whispered a positive answer, running my tongue along the shell of his own ear, my breasts rubbing against his chest. He shivered beneath me, in a way that made me even more turned on, simply for knowing he was moved by it, and answered in a huskier voice than before," There's a tiger on my chest. I know you can't see it, but if it turns you on, I thought I'd tell you. Otherwise, my skin's as smooth as a baby's bottom." "Mm, no... you're rough around the edges, stubbly and muscular and completely male... a tattoo fits perfectly," I whispered, in between kisses along his neck and shoulder and chest, my tongue flicking out for his nipple this time. I enjoyed the slight hiss, the quick intake of breath, and the strangled groan, the way he tried to hold it back as I bit the tightened bud. I giggled a little, my petite fingers following the line of hair down his muscular torso to his jeans' button and zipper. My lips traced soft kisses over the slightly raised skin of a recent tattoo, indicating he was telling the truth, as my fingers worked the button out of the hole and the zipper tab down, the noise loud in the quiet room. He chuckled, teasing," Looks like someone knows what they're doing." "What? Did you expect some meek virgin to let you violate her in the dark?" I asked, a smile against his chest as my hand slipped in his pants, down his boxers to wrap around a thick shaft. That slight hissing gasp was heard again, but his reply was as cool as a cucumber," No. I like a girl that knows what she's doing, what she likes, and how to ask for it." I laughed and bit his shoulder gently," What if I don't ask? What if I just take it? Demand it." Lightly, I stroked his cock, which was already throbbing in my small hand as we teased, back and forth, whispers in the silence. "I like that, too," he admitted, after a quiet moan," Perhaps even more." "You do, huh?" I asked, lips tickling his ear, warm breath making him chuckle, my hair brushing against his sensitive neck and cheek, his shoulder. My thumb was gently rubbing the drop of pre-cum I felt in the darkness around the head of his dick when he didn't answer, instead reaching his own hand in my shorts, past my underwear, gripping the clean-shaven mound of my cunt in a possessive way. I felt his lips against my own, capturing the gaspy moan, as one of his long, calloused fingers felt my wet slit. "So wet, and loud," he whispered, a smirk evident in his tone, as he asked," Will you be able to keep it quiet enough so no one will catch us? Or are you into that sort of thing?" I giggled more, before another moan escaped my parted lips when his finger slipped inside of me," It's not like you've been very silent yourself. And if you'd stop teasing me and just fuck me already, it wouldn't be such a big deal." He chuckled, enjoying my noises as he fit another finger in me, his thumb rubbing against my sensitive, swollen clit," If you're like this over my fingers, I can only imagine what my cock will do to you. You'll turn into a quivery, screaming mess, I bet." My fingers dug into his shoulder, surprising me that I had even grabbed a hold of him, and my voice was strained when I told him," Less talking, more fucking, please." "Alright, alright," he told me, pulling his hand out of my shorts. I heard him taste me, on his hand, and then smelled the half tangy, half sweet scent of my juices on one of his fingers, as he pressed it against my lips, urging me to taste myself, too. So I did, obediently licking, and then gently sucking his finger until he pulled it away, kissing me instead. His lips were rough, his teeth scraping my full lips, bruising them. But I couldn't care less -- I just needed him inside of me, this complete stranger needed to put his cock in me, and fuck me senseless. He tugged at my shorts and panties, pulling them off my long legs, and then he pulled his own jeans and silky boxers off, too. There was no time to worry about a condom; the thought never even crossed my mind, and I doubt he really thought about it either. He just grabbed my hips, took a second to guide his thick tip to line up with my wet hole, and then he slammed me down on it. Gone was the teasing, the sudden need replacing it as he whispered in my ear to ride him, to ride his dick, and then cum on it. And as I straddled him, my hips moving up and down, his hands gripping my small, round ass, and slim hips, he whispered encouragement, muffled by my firm breasts that he found himself so attached to. My hands explored his muscular frame, nails running along it, and the slick sounds of sex, coupled with our own noises of enjoyment, were so god damn loud in the room. I was sure someone would wake up, and catch us, catch two strangers fucking. But I didn't care, not one bit, especially when his thumb found my sensitive bud again, rubbing in circles, pinching a little. And then, when I came, my tight cunt squeezing his throbbing length, my screams, as he indeed had predicted, were only muffled by his fingers. It was a deep, strong feeling, draining me until I was left a little shaky, the quivery mess he had said I would be, and my hips slowed to simply grinding on him; I couldn't trust myself to try to fuck him for a long moment. He wasn't going to wait, though. Instead, he grabbed me, again by surely bruised hips, moving to be on top of me, pressing my thighs against my chest, my legs on his broad shoulders as he continued to thrust into me. His hand kept me quiet, his own grunts and groans muffled by my thigh, his face turned into it. My nails dug into his back, my hands finding his bum, tight and muscular like the rest of him. And when he stilled, I was ready, so desperate to be filled by this man I hardly knew, wanting his orgasm to be as achingly incredible as mine had been, wanting him to quiver and moan and tremble for me, too. His kiss was sweet, soft after wards, apologizing for his rough treatment while he pulled me into his arms to fall asleep. When I woke up, he was gone, and it was my head on my duffel bag this time, paper crinkling as I stretched. I turned, squinting a little and rubbing my eyes to focus on the hesitant, boyish letters. "Opal, I found your name as I was digging through your bag for a piece of paper and pen. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I bet, with that thick jet black hair, you have pretty blue eyes. I'm sorry for getting to see your face and not letting you see mine. I didn't want to be caught in bed with you, and cause trouble with the hostel staff. I wasn't sure if you'd be staying in it any longer, and didn't want you to have to find a new one on such short notice. I know, I'm such a sweet stranger, looking out for a young American girl out on her own, after violating her in the dark. What can I say, I'm quite the catch. If you want to keep this a one-time-thing, we can. If not, here's my number: (xxx) xxx -- xxxx. Either way, it was amazing, thank you. Call me any time, Damon P.S. Just so you know, you kick. Hard." I smiled and shoved the paper in my duffel bag, perhaps for another time. Faceless Fuck Ch. 02 I was in Spain when I finally called him. Part of me needed to gain the courage to dial the ten digits, and part of me just needed to remember. I came across the note he had left me as I unpacked one night, having splurged on a hotel. That's not to say random fucks in the night are the usual for me, but the foreign places kept me distracted enough that I used it as an excuse not to call for a while. 'Oh, I'm so tired. I just walked all over this town.' or 'I have to catch a train; I better not be late.' I dialed the number once, and erased it only to dial once more, pressing the send button before I could back out of it again. I bit my lip, listening as I perched on the edge of the bed. It rang four or five times, each ring breaking my resolve. I was about to give up and hang up when he finally answered. "Hello?" he asked, voice still husky and deep, just as I remembered it. Before I could lose my nerve, I blurted," They're green." "Excuse me?" he asked, obviously baffled. "My eyes. They're not blue. They're green," I repeated. "Opal? Is that you? I had just about given up on you calling," he said, an amused satisfaction seeping into his voice, a little cocky. "Oh? Have you been sitting around, thinking about me, pining?" I asked, grinning, and laying further back on the bed, settling for a good conversation. He chuckled," Of course. Absolutely dying to hear from the girl with a heart on her butt cheek." I blushed, surprised laughter bubbling from my lips," What'd you do, pull back the sheets and examine me before you snuck away?" "Oh, yes, and it was a very thorough examination. You have the cutest freckle on your inner thigh. I was rather tempted to kiss it, among other things... give you a fun little awakening. But the sun was up and people were about to wake up," he added wistfully. "So you say," I teased with a smile. "Mhm," he murmured, a smile in his voice, too," So, are you finally back in America or in just another hostel?" "I'm in Spain, splurged on a hotel tonight. It's beautiful here, the country, the people, the language... I only wish I had taken Spanish in high school," I admitted. "What did you take, then?" he asked, random curiosity sparking. "German, three years," I answered, truthfully. "Oh yeah? So, gonna seduce me with some German tonight?" he teased. "Oh, is that why you gave me your number? So I could get you off, miles away?" I asked, teasing back. "But of course. Did you think someone that would fuck a complete stranger in the dark would be interested in coffee after wards?" he asked, and then continued his teasing," Besides, we both know you've been missing my cock ever since. And as I'm not there to fuck you to another mind-blowing orgasm, you'll have to settle for my words and your own fingers." "Oh? I will? Is that a demand?" I asked, once more unable to take offense in his bold, blunt sexual advances, and couldn't muster the decency nor morality to say no to a still nearly complete stranger. At least I knew his name this time. "Exactly," he joked, but in a more serious tone, he asked," Tell me, Opal, have you cum today?" "Once, this morning, as I was taking my bath, before I went out." "Do you touch yourself often, then?" "Back home, at least once or twice a day, often in the shower or bath and before I go to bed. But as hostels aren't much for privacy, I've been lacking lately," I admitted. "What were you thinking about this morning?" he asked, his husky voice doing funny things deep in my tummy as arousal seeped into his tone. "My ex," I answered, before realizing how stupid the truth was, how awful it sounded, wishing I could take it back almost immediately. His tone didn't change, just for a slight hitched note in his first word, disappointment," Ah, still miss him?" "Her," I corrected, biting my lip, still mentally kicking myself for saying anything. And just like that, his disappointed tone was gone, replaced with a grin in his voice as he spoke," Oh, well, aren't you an adventurous little slut, fucking strangers and women, too. You could be the poster child for preachers' rants on the degradation of the youth today. I don't know how your parents trusted you to go to Europe, all by your lonesome. Or did you run off, as though to rebel? Is that when you got your girly little tat?" "Ah, fuck off," I told him with a laugh," As if you're so damn innocent." "Yeah, but men are supposed to be sluts. Double standards blow, don't they?" he asked, almost thoughtful, but didn't allow me to answer, continuing," But yes, you made yourself cum to your ex-girlfriend. Do go on, love. What was she like?" "She was crazy -- and to answer your question from before, my parents weren't aware I was fucking her, just thought she was a close friend, if not a bad influence --, and incredibly gorgeous, in a rebellious sort of way. We both got that heart tattoo, together, since I was too much of a pussy to get anything elaborate. She wasn't though; she had a few others. The most elaborate were the music notes on her rib cage, the intro to her favorite song. "She had purple hair, only to her shoulders and choppy, and blue eyes that erred on the lavender side of the color spectrum. Her breasts were small, an A or B cup, with tiny, sensitive nipples that had bars through them. She was tiny all over, short and spunky, but a ballet dancer, as well. She didn't have much of an ass, either, and her cunt was a pretty little thing, pink as a flower, but not tight at all. She was older than me, almost done with college, and could take my fist," I said, surprised still, despite the amount of time we had been together and how long it had been since then, too. "And yet you're so tight," he said, a question in his statement. "She liked me that way, was as fascinated with my tightness as I was by her looseness," I said, the slight shrug of my slender shoulder in my voice. He was silent for a moment and then," What are you wearing?" "A purple peasant top, and black shorts," I answered, unable to come up with anything more suggestive and seductive than the truth before I was expected to answer. "Very cute. What's underneath?" he asked, another smile in his voice, perhaps at my innocence, my obvious honesty. "A matching purple set, satin with black lace trim." "Tell me, doll, what's on your cute ass? Boy-shorts? Bikini-cut? A thong, perhaps?" was his next question. I laughed," A thong, yeah." "When you bend over, do you give everyone a peek?" he asked, a smirk in his voice this time. "I don't know. Want to find out?" I asked, tempted to stick my tongue out at his cocky tone, if only he were in front of me. "Strangers, women, phone sex, and now naughty photos... I think I like you," he laughed. I laughed, too, again," Give me a sec, alright?" "Just one?" I could hear him ask, but already, the phone was from my ear, as I flipped through the menu for my camera. I moved to the closet, where full-length mirrors made the sliding doors. Looking back, as I bent over, purple triangle of the back in full show, the suggestion of the crack of my ass, I blew him a kiss for the photo. And then sent it. "Fuck, we should have turned on the lights that night. Fuck the rest of the people," he said, just a few seconds later, his voice serious," You have mile-long legs, you know that? And such a nice, tight little ass." "Maybe the lights should have stayed off -- I don't even know what you look like, yet," I teased, smiling and blushing, pleased with the compliments. "Alright, hang on, it's my turn," he said, and then his voice far away, joking," Just be nice, don't break my heart." And a few seconds later, I was rewarded with a picture message in my in-box. I bit my lip, peeking through my fingers as it popped on the screen when I opened the message, and nearly giggled with pure delight, rather proud of myself. He was sexy in that bad ass sort of way, the guy your momma warns you about it but can't ever save you from. The picture only showed his face: the mischievous blue eyes and generous lips smirking, the light mark of a scar along his jaw, long faded, but made obvious by the light growth of stubble that could only grow around it, and an eyebrow piercing that I had somehow missed in our night together. His hair was dark and short, longer than your momma might find acceptable, but not quite long enough to really tangle your fingers in. "If you're good and give me a view of your thong without your shorts in the way, you'll see more, too," he teased, half unsure by my silence. I laughed," I'll strip for you, if you strip for me." "So I take it, you're impressed?" he asked, a grin replacing the brief shyness that had been in his tone before, a pleased sort of tone now, like that of a peacock puffing up his chest and spreading the fan of his pretty tail. "Let's just say that I'd flick on the lights myself," I replied, amused by his easy arrogance. "Yes," he joked," Way to make me feel like I'm in high school again. Nervous about what a girl has to say." "I think you were born with an ego, love," I teased back," Now, let me see that tattoo." "Bossy little bitch," he laughed, but acquiesced," Just a sec, babe." "Just one?" I echoed, but could tell he had already pulled the phone from his ear, could hear the soft click of a photo being taken and then a second later, hear the ping of a message in my in-box. I opened it, no longer peeking through my fingers, and was infinitely pleased again, seeing a shirtless, muscular torso. His shoulders were broad, just as I remembered, and his chest was smooth, marked only by the fierce image of an ink saber tooth tiger, and tight nipples. His arms were muscular like someone who worked construction, a large hand hooked into the waist of his dark jeans. I followed the dark, well-groomed line of hair up his flat stomach, remembering the way his muscles had jumped beneath my cool fingertips, to his belly button, past his tattoo, noticing the grin on his face for the first time. After my long perusal, I couldn't trust myself with compliments, for fear of embarrassing myself, and giving him too big of a head, instead simply telling him," My turn." After slipping off my silky top, I shook out my hair, black and wavy, leaning into the mirror, my generous cleavage on display, the pale skin of my breasts in contrast to the dark purple bra and the black lace trim. I couldn't help but notice the way my eyes, once bright and light, were now darkened with arousal, smoldering in the way that "bedroom eyes", as Lacey, my ex, used to call them, always do. My smile was small, almost a smirk, a promise on my full lips, a reminder of what they could do to him. I snapped the picture and sent it, not wanting to make him wait any longer. And after telling him to hang on just a little longer, I slipped my hands behind myself, unclasping my bra, and set it to the side, with my shirt. I cupped my breasts, as though to offer myself to him, my nipples peeking out from my slender fingers, rosy little buttons. I blew another kiss to him, just as the timed camera setting went off, and sent that picture as well, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked, as I put the phone back to my ear. "Gorgeous, absolutely stunning, Opal," he said, the teasing jokes gone for the moment, replaced by attraction and arousal, as need and passion had replaced it that night. "Your jeans, Damon," I said quietly, hiding the way his words affected me, the tone in which he said them, the way I was blushing now, pleased, instead continuing," Take them off. And your boxers. I want to see your cock, see how hard I make you." I could hear his slightly strangled groan before he left me to take another photo, and smiled at the way I turned him on. As I waited, phone pressed between my ear and shoulder, I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, letting them fall down my long, slender legs. I bent over in the mirror again, ignoring the ping of his text, and spreading my legs a little, I took a picture from between my thighs. My puffy cunt was pressed tight against the smooth, already slightly damp fabric of my underwear, and for another picture, I pulled them to the side, letting him get a peek at my wet folds. I opened his after my little photo shoot, just a slight longer pause than there should have been, and couldn't help when a gaspy, little," Oh fuck," escaped, and then I said in a less strangled voice," I'm not sure I've ever said this before, but you have a beautiful cock. A beautiful body, all together, honestly." I guesstimated that it was a nice seven, maybe seven and a half inches, not porn star material, but a naturally large length, thick, with a pearl of pre-cum gathering on the tip. Just looking at it made my nipples tighten and ache, my pussy get a little wetter. His dark hair was trimmed and light around his cock, his heavy balls shaved smooth and his thighs, muscular like the rest of him, were only dusted with more dark, soft hair. "Fuck, I want to taste you," I added, just a second later. He chuckled," Yeah? Eager to get on your knees and wraps those pretty little lips around my cock? Let me fuck that sweet face of yours, deep in your throat?" "Eager to have you in each of my holes," I corrected him, and as I sent him the pictures I had taken, I added," Especially this one again." Again, there was a strangled groan as he viewed my body, and then I heard his soft voice," I want those gone. I want to see your fingers in your juicy cunt, touching yourself for me as I'm stroking myself for you right now. And I want to hear it; put your phone on speaker. I want to hear you moan when you slip your little fingers in that tight fuck-hole." So, biting my lip at his words, I switched it to speaker phone as he told me to, and slipped my thong down my legs, not bothering to step out of it as it pooled around my delicate feet. I bent over, my thighs spread a little, and reaching back, I spread my ass further apart, giving him a great view. Timed, the camera clicked off a photo. Ignoring it, my other hand finding my hot cunt, two slender fingers slipping inside it, my moan louder than the soft, gaspy ones at his words. "Ah fuck," I whispered, just as my phone took another photo of my indecent pose. I took a moment to send those two, and was rewarded with his groan, the sound of his hand on his throbbing shaft, and then a picture of him stroking it. "Taste yourself for me, babe," he ordered," Tell me how you taste. Are you as sweet as you were that night? Do you remember tasting yourself for me, sucking my finger like an eager little whore? Hm?" "Oh, Jesus, Damon," I moaned, and answered his question after obediently tasting my juices, my hand slipping down to squeeze my tit, relieve some of the ache," You're missing out, doll. You should be here to eat me." "Yeah, you'd like to sit your sweet little ass on my face, wouldn't you?" he asked, the faint sound of his hand on his cock coming through. "Anything to get some relief. You have me so damn wet," I moaned again, honestly driven crazy by his husky words, the indecency of this all, the pictures... oh fuck, I was already so turned on, so easily the situation did this to me. "I want to hear you cum," he said, voice strained but serious," I want to hear those fingers in your cunt, fucking yourself, wishing it was my dick. And I want to hear my name escape your lips when you finally orgasm." I gasped slightly, his words making my nipples tighten, nerve endings sparking deep in my tummy, pleasure shooting to my clit. I was so sensitive. "But first," he continued just a moment later," You're going to ignore that wet hole for just a moment. I know your tits must ache, hm?" "Yes," I murmured my answer, sitting on the floor, my back against the mirror, my phone in between my thighs, somehow complacent with his demands, perhaps knowing it would be better if I did as he said. "Touch them for me, love," he said," Squeeze them, pinch your rosy little nipples, tug on them like I did that night, imagine it being my hands, my lips, my tongue." "Are you imagining it's my hand on your cock instead?" I asked, only half concerned with the actual answer as I touched myself for him. "How would you touch me?" he asked, listening to my moans intently. I paused only a second, imagining kneeling in front of him, wrapping my hand around his thick length, my eyes on his as my thumb rubbed that pearl of pre-cum around the tip of his pretty cock. And as he moaned, I would give it a kiss, tongue flicking out to taste him. So I told him exactly that, enjoying his slight moan. "Fuck, you little slut," he whispered," Would you swallow?" "Are you going to let me touch my cunt?" I countered. "Fuck, yeah, babe, go for it," he answered. "Then of course I would swallow," I said, a smile playing at my lips, and then a moan escaped when I finally touched myself again," Ah, god." "Ask me to cum," he demanded, his own groan softening his tone. "Please, Damon," I moaned, the wet sounds of my fingers moving in and out clear over the phone," Please let me cum. I need this, so fucking much." He murmured,"Do you want me to cum, too?" "Ah fuck, Damon, stop being an ass. You know I want your cum, want you to fill me like you did that day... or even on my face and tits. Cum for me, too," I told him, frustrated, feeling my orgasm just over the edge, but for some reason waiting for this half stranger to permit me. "Cum for me, Opal," he said simply. And like that, I felt myself go over the edge, moaning more as my juices spilled, a small wet stain gathering beneath me, my cunt clenching around my fingers. I could hear him, too, the guttural groan signaling his own release. A moments after wards, breathless, I murmured," Wow." "Was it good?" he asked, an amused smile in his voice. "Amazing. And for you?" I asked, feeling shy. "Amazing, thanks," he said and then," Ah shit." "What happened?" "My fucking phone," he muttered," All over the god damn screen." I laughed," Go clean up. I'm gonna take a shower and then get some rest. Call me." "'Night Opal." Click.