Dating Adventure

The conference had been a waste of a Thursday. Some regional summit in Tampa, the kind where men in polos handshake too hard to try to impress each other and the open bar is the only reason anyone comes. I'd done my hours at the booth, collected my lanyard, and retreated to the hotel restaurant with a whiskey and no plans.

Then you walked in. Blue hair. That hit me first this bright, impossible blue, half-up and messy, on a girl with a tan like she'd never once stayed indoors. Striped pants slung low on your hips. A white shirt so thin that when you passed under the bar lights, I could see the pink spots on your bra right through it. And your ass. Perky doesn't begin to cover it. It bounced with every step, and you walked like you knew exactly what it was doing to every man in that lobby.

You took the stool two down from mine and ordered a Coke. I turned before I could talk myself out of it.

"Can I buy you a drink?" You looked up. Brown eyes, big and warm, with a glint in them like you'd been waiting all night for someone to ask.

"I'm nineteen." You said it flat. A test. Watching to see if I'd stammer, apologize, retreat.

"Then I'll buy you a Coke." You laughed bright and surprised, like I'd passed something. You patted the stool beside you.

Turns out we were both captives of the same function. You were there working the event for one of the vendor companies youngest person on the crew by a decade, you said, and the only girl. I told you I'd flown in that morning and would fly out regretting everything except this bar. You'd just smile and we keep talking like we have know each other forever. Smiling till our faces hurt.

When the bartender called last call, you set your glass down and looked at me dead in the eye.

"So. What floor's your room on?"

The elevator had mirrors on three walls, and you watched us in every one of them while you backed me into the fourth. You kissed like you were starving. I got my hands on your ass and understood the pants immediately it was even better bare, warm and firm and bouncing under my palms when I squeezed.

"Been thinking about grabbing that since the bar," I said against your mouth.

"I know," you breathed. "I could feel you staring. That's why I asked about the room."

The door barely closed before you were pulling my shirt open. I got yours over your head and there it was the pink spots bra, little polka dots on white lace, holding up the perkiest tits I'd ever had in front of me. Tan skin everywhere, with the faintest bikini lines across your chest. You unhooked it yourself, watching my face while you did it.

"Like what you see, old man?"

"Old man?"

"You're what, twenty-five?"

"Twenty-five's not old."

"It's older than me." You stepped out of your striped pants, left standing in nothing but a little pair of white panties. "Which means you should know what you're doing. Prove it."

You went down first. On your knees on the hotel carpet, blue hair falling in your face, dragging my pants down with this greedy little sound. When my cock sprang free you actually bit your lip.

"Fuck, okay," you whispered. Then you took me in your mouth and I stopped having thoughts.

Nineteen, and you sucked cock like you'd been practicing for this exact moment. Wet and eager, your tongue doing things on the way up that made my thighs shake. You took me deep not too deep, gagging, tears pricking your eyes and you didn't pull off. You looked up at me with those big brown eyes while you choked on it, and when you finally came up for air you were grinning.

"Too much?" I asked, breathless. "Absolutely not."

"Good." I said as you dove back down.

I gathered your blue hair in my fist and you moaned around me. I kept being gentle. I thrusted in your mouth soft, and you took it sloppy, drooling, your hand between your legs working your clit while I used you. You got close to cumming like that, actually. Fingers in your panties, my cock hitting the back of your throat, and you moaned so hard around me I had to pull out or I was going to cum.

"Bed," I rasped. "Now."

I laid you down and finally got my mouth on you. You tasted like sweet evil and you were already soaked dripping, honestly, the sheets under your ass darkening. I ate you out until you were pulling my hair, and then I worked my way up your body and slid inside you.

You were tight as if you were made just for my cock, warm and perfect. You wrapped those legs around me and I fucked you slow at first, watching your tits bounce, watching your face eyes shut, lips parted, this little furrow in your brow like you couldn't believe how good it felt.

Then you opened your eyes and said, "Harder. I'm not going to break."

So I didn't hold back. I flipped you over, pulled those hips up, and drove into you from behind so I could finally watch that ass properly rippling against me with every thrust, tan and round and perfect. You screamed into the pillow. The people in the next room definitely heard. Neither of us cared.

I finished with you on your knees and my hand around your throat, your whole body shaking through your third orgasm when I finally let go and filled the condom with a groan that came from my soul.

We lay in the dark after, your head on my chest, both of us drenched and catching our breath. I thought you'd fallen asleep. Then you spoke, quiet, into the silence.

"I have confessions." You said almost too serious.

"Okay."

"Things I've never told anyone." You traced circles on my chest with one finger. "But you're a stranger, so it's safe, right?"

"Smartest thing you've said all night." I laughed a little. Hope to make you feel better closer to me somehow.

You laughed. Then you were quiet a moment, and I felt the blush rise in your skin before you even started talking. There it was the shy girl underneath all that boldness.

"I go to porn stores," you said. "On purpose. There's one by my apartment. I dress cute when I go little skirts, stuff that shows everything. And I take my time. I pick up every toy. Hold them. Compare them. Make sure everyone in that store is watching this teenage slut pick out which dildo she's going to take home and fuck herself with."

My breathing changed. You felt it.

"The clerks always ask if I need help. I always say yes." Your voice was getting softer, faster. "I make them explain things to me. The big ones. I ask which ones the other girls buy. And they have to stand there telling a nineteen-year-old about giant dildos while their ears go red, and I get so wet I have to go home and use whatever I bought immediately. Sometimes in the parking lot."

"Fuck," I breathed.

"There's more." You sat up, cross-legged, not looking at me now. "I want to be gangbanged. Like actually. A room full of men. I've thought about it every single day since I was way too young to be thinking about it. I want them to use me. All of them. One after another, all night, until I can't count how many and I can't walk the next day. I want to be sore everywhere and know I earned it."

You finally looked at me, cheeks flaming, eyes scared and hopeful at once.

"Nobody knows that. Nobody. I've never... even I've never done anything like it. I just want it so bad."

I was hard again. Obviously. You looked down at my cock, then back up at my face, and your jaw dropped.

"Again? Already?" surprised but happy.

"You just told me you want a room full of men to gangbang, and you're surprised I'm hard?" I smiled and wink

You laughed giddy, disbelieving as I pulled you on top of me. You sank down onto my cock with a long, filthy moan, and I gripped your hips and held you there.

"Ride," I said. "And tell me the rest. Every detail. Don't leave anything out."

So you did. You bounced on my cock and confessed everything how many men you thought about, what they'd do to you, which hole, how you'd want them to talk to you. You told me about the toys you'd bought and the ones you were scared of. You told me you'd never told a soul, and you told a stranger in a Hyatt because something about me felt safe and filthy at the same time.

You came twice more before I flipped you over and finished on those perfect tits, and you lay there glowing, covered in me, looking like you'd finally exhaled after holding your breath for years.

You fell asleep at 2 AM with your head on my shoulder. I lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking: I should get her number. I should get more than her number. I should figure out whatever it takes to keep this one, because a girl like this comes along once.

I was right, it turned out. Just didn't know how right yet.

Sunlight cut through the Hyatt's terrible curtains and hit me square in the face.

I blinked awake with a groan, disoriented for a second unfamiliar ceiling, unfamiliar sheets. Then I felt the weight against my chest and the warm press of skin, and it all came flooding back. Blue hair. Brown eyes. Still here.

You were curled into my side, one leg thrown over mine, your breath soft against my collarbone. Your makeup was smudged to hell. Your hair was a disaster. You looked absolutely wrecked and completely content.

I brushed a strand of blue out of your face and you stirred, making this little humming sound that went straight to my chest.

"Morning," I said.

You peeled one eye open. Grinned. "Hey, old man."

We ordered room service because neither of us could move properly. You sat cross-legged on the bed in my shirt, nothing else, picking at your eggs like you had something on your mind.

"Okay," you finally said. "I have a proposition."

"Another one?" I said back yawning, hoping my breath doesnt stink.

"Better one." You set your fork down and looked at me with complete seriousness. "I think I should be Puppy."

"Puppy."

"Because" You gestured at yourself, at the bed, at the room. "I followed you up here without knowing anything about you. I followed you to the elevator. I followed you into bed. And I'd follow you again. Right now. Anywhere." You shrugged. "Puppy."

I stared at you. You stared back, defiant, waiting.

"That's," I started, then stopped. "Actually kind of perfect." you beamed. Then your expression shifted mischievous now.

"Which means I get to name you too." You said playful, silly but earnest.

"Oh no." I luaghed fearful.

"Sweet Cheeks."

"Absolutely not." I chuckled

"Sweet Cheeks," you repeated, and before I could argue, you'd scrambled across the bed and grabbed my ass with both hands. "Because this thing is incredible and I've been thinking about it since last night."

"Your naming conventions are inconsistent."

"My naming conventions are perfect." You squeezed again, grinning. "Sweet Cheeks. SC. It works."

You flopped back onto the pillows, still smiling, and I lay down beside you. The morning sun was warm through the window. Somewhere outside, Tampa traffic hummed.

"I'm sore," you said quietly. I tensed. "Do we need to" I was actually concerned.

"In a good way." You turned your head to look at me, brown eyes soft. "Like... everything aches. My thighs. My jaw." A pause. A blush. "Other places. But it's the good kind of sore. The kind where I keep feeling it and remembering why."

I pulled you closer and you tucked yourself against me, fitting perfectly. "I've never," you said into my chest, "had a night like that. Where I could just... say things. All the things. And nobody made me feel weird about it."

"You told a stranger you want to be gangbanged." I was being coy but direct.

"I know." You laughed, muffled against my skin. "And you just got hard again and told me to keep talking. That's not normal. That's.."

"Exactly what you needed?" I threw a guess out there.

You went quiet. Then: "Yeah. Exactly."

We lay there for a long time. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on my stomach. I played with your blue hair and tried not to think about checkout times or flights or the fact that we lived on opposite coasts.

"I don't want this to be a one-time thing," you said eventually.

"I don't want that as well." I was looking directly at in your eyes. You look back at me. Searching my face. "Oh really?"

"Yeah," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "I'm already trying to figure out when I can see you again. Where you live. How to make this work."

Your smile was worth every mile.

We showered together actually showered, though you did drop to your knees for a few minutes because you said you "needed something to remember me by." I returned the favor against the hotel wall, your leg over my shoulder, your hands clutching wet tile while you moaned my name.

Puppy. Sweet Cheeks.

We dressed. We exchanged numbers. You wrote yours on the hotel notepad with a little heart and a crude drawing that made me laugh.

At the door, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed me soft.

"Thank you," you whispered.

"For what?"

"For letting me be honest. For not making me feel broken." You pulled back, eyes bright. "For calling me Puppy and meaning it."

I cupped your face and kissed your forehead.

"Thank me by answering when I call."

You walked out of that Hyatt room with your striped pants and your pink-spotted bra and your disaster hair, and I watched you go.

Then I looked down at the notepad.

Puppy (xxx) xxx-xxxx

Call me, Sweet Cheeks. a little heart drawn at the bottom.

I folded it into my wallet and smiled like an idiot the whole way to back to my place.

3 Months later

We have been dating for months now you living on the other coast made it hard to see each other but twice a month we got to be togther. The party's been going for hours now, the kind of lazy Florida gathering that starts in the afternoon and bleeds into evening without anyone really noticing. People have drifted out in twos and threes, and now it's just the three of us on the couch the friend in the armchair angled toward us, you tucked against my side, the TV muted on some old game neither of us is watching.

You're still damp from the pool, that psychedelic swimsuit clinging to you like a second skin. Every time you shift, I catch glimpses the deep scoop of the neckline, the high cut over your hips, the way the wet fabric has gone sheer in patches. You smell like chlorine and coconut sunscreen and something else underneath, something warm that makes my cock stir.

"So the whole level is basically impossible," the friend is saying, gesturing with his beer. "Unless you know about the glitch behind the waterfall. Then you can skip straight to the boss."

"Mmhmm." I'm not really listening. My hand is on your thigh, fingers tracing the crease where your leg meets your hip, that soft hollow of skin the swimsuit leaves exposed. Your skin is still flushed from the sun, pink across your chest and the bridge of your nose. I feel you shiver.

You shift against me, and that's when you feel it my cock hardening against your hip. I watch your eyes flick down, then back up, a small smile on your lips. You don't say anything. You just press closer, your thigh sliding over mine, your body turning so you're half-facing me while still appearing to listen to the conversation.

"Right, right," you say to the friend, your voice casual. But your hips roll. A slow grind against my leg, subtle enough that he can't see, deliberate enough that I feel the heat of you through my shorts.

My hand slides higher on your thigh. You're wet. I can feel it even through the fabric, that warm dampness that isn't from the pool but form you. Your thighs squeeze together, then part slightly, giving my fingers access to the edge of your swimsuit. Tugging it to the side.

"The glitch is total bullshit though," the friend continues. "Because if you mess it up, you have to restart the whole hey, are you okay? You look flushed."

"I'm fine." You wave a hand dismissively. "Just the sun earlier. I'm fine."

But you're not fine. You're grinding against me in tiny movements trying to catch your clit against me, your breath coming faster, your hand drifting to the edge of your swimsuit and tugging it tighter against yourself. I watch you bite your lower lip, that grain of sugar still caught there from your margarita.

And then you feel it my cock fully hard now, straining against my shorts. You look up at me, and I see the thought form in your eyes before you act on it.

You stretch, yawning, and let your head drop into my lap. Casual. Innocent. Just getting comfortable.

"Keep talking," you tell the friend, your voice sleepy. "I'm listening."

Your face is turned away from him, toward my stomach. Your cheek rests on my thigh, and I feel your breath hot through the fabric of my shorts. Then your lips part, and your mouth on me through the material warm, wet pressure that makes my cock twitch. I push upwards reflex taking over.

I don't stop you.

Your hand comes up, hidden by the angle of your body, and you palm me through my shorts. Stroking. Squeezing. Your fingers find the waistband and slip underneath, wrapping around my shaft, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral.

"Wait, which game was this again?" I ask, my voice only slightly strained.

"The one with th the fuck, what's it called" The friend gestures vaguely, searching for the title.

And that's when you pull my cock free.

Just the head at first, your lips wrapping around it, your tongue swirling once, twice. I feel your mouth hot and wet, the suction gentle, teasing. Your head doesn't move you're still just "resting" but your mouth works me, taking me deeper with each slow pulse.

I glance at the friend. He hasn't noticed yet. He's still talking about level design, about checkpoints, about the boss fight. But I see his hand drift to his lap, adjusting himself. He's hard. I can see the outline of his cock through his jeans. I start to wonder if you do too.

Your hand moves between your own thighs, fingers pressing against the wet fabric of your swimsuit. You moan around my cock, barely audible, and I feel your hips twitch.

"So anyway," the friend says, "the point is"

He stops.

His eyes have dropped to where your head rests in my lap. He sees the movement. The subtle bobbing. The way your throat works.

He freezes mid-sentence.

I watch his face. The confusion first, then the realization. His eyes widen. His jaw tightens. His breathing changes shallow, quick. He doesn't look away.

"Is she..." He trails off.

I don't answer. I just watch him watch you.

Your mouth is full of me now, your head moving in slow, deliberate strokes. You know he's looking. Your back arches slightly, your ass pushing out, your swimsuit riding up. You want him to see.

"Jesus Christ," the friend breathes. His hand is pressed against his cock now, not quite touching, not quite ignoring. His face is flushed. "I should I..."

"Stay," I say.

I let you continue for another minute, your mouth warm and eager around my cock the soft gag you give when it reaches far enough. Then I reach down and stroke your hair, gentle but firm.

"Sit up," I tell you.

You do. Your lips are swollen warmed up, slick with spit. Your eyes are hazy with lust but I see something else there too. Hesitation. Your fingers twist together in your lap, and you glance at the friend, then quickly away.

"Take your cock out," I tell him. He hesitates for half a second. Then his hands move to his belt. I turn to you. "Spread your legs for him."

Your breath catches. Your thighs press together not opening, not yet. You look up at me, your brown eyes wide, uncertain.

"I don't..." You swallow hard. "SC, I've never"

"Never what?"

Your cheeks flush darker. Your voice drops to barely a whisper. "Never had someone watch. Never had... two."

The friend has his cock out now, hard and flushed, standing straight up from his body. He's watching you, waiting, his hand wrapped around himself.

"Do you want to stop?" I ask you quietly but honest. I would haved if you said to.

You hesitate. Your eyes drift to the friend to his cock then back to me. Your teeth sink into your lower lip.

"No," you breathe. "I don't want to stop."

"Then spread your legs."

Slowly, trembling, you do. Your thighs fall open, your back against my chest. The friend can see the wet spot on your swimsuit now, the fabric dark and clinging to your pussy.

"Good Puppy," I murmur against your ear. "Now show him."

Your fingers shake full of fear but excitment as they move to the fabric between your legs. You pull it aside just enough. The friend groans.

"Come here," I tell him. "She wants you to."

He crosses the space between the armchair and the couch, his cock hard and flushed. He kneels between your spread thighs, looking up at me for permission.

But you're still tense. Still uncertain. I feel your body rigid against mine.

"Hey," I say softly against your ear. "What is it?" You're quiet for a moment. Then, barely audible: "I don't know if I should want this." "Why not?"

"Because it's" You swallow hard. "Because I am your girlfriend exclusive"

"You are still my girlfriend and we are still exclusive? A boyfriend can share you if you want. "

Your voice cracks. "But I shouldnt want to let people use me. I should want want to be... shared."

I hold you tighter. "Is that what you want? To be used?"

Your breath shudders out of you. Your eyes close.

"I don't know," you whisper. "Maybe. I've thought about it. I've.." You stop, embarrassed.

"Tell me."

"I've thought about it," you admit, your voice small. "When I touch myself. Being watched. Being... told what to do. Having someone else there while you" You break off, your face burning.

The friend is perfectly still, waiting, his cock twitching against his stomach. Being surprisingly patient as we talk.

"Tell me what you've imagined," I say against your ear.

You're silent for a long moment. Then: "Being on my knees. Both of you standing over me. Your cocks in my face. Not being asked being told." Your voice is barely a whisper now. "Being used. Being filled. Having cum on me, in me, everywhere. Not having a choice."

"You always have a choice," I say. "But if you want to give that choice to me to us say it."

Your eyes open. You look at the friend's cock, hard and waiting. You look at me.

"I want to be used," you say, louder now. "Both of you. Please." I nod to the friend.

He grips your thighs, spreading you wider. You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance, slick and ready. "Tell him," I say against your ear. "Tell him what you want." "Fuck me," you whisper. "Please.."

He pushes inside you.

You gasp, your head falling back against my shoulder. I hold you steady, my hands on your hips, my cock pressed against your lower back. The friend starts to move, thrusting in a slow rhythm, his eyes half-closed.

"That's it," I say. "Take his cock. You're doing so well."

Your body rocks with each thrust. The swimsuit is pulled taut across your chest, your nipples visible through the wet fabric. I reach up and palm one breast, squeezing, rolling the nipple between my fingers.

"Oh god" you moan. "Oh fuck"

The friend's pace quickens. His hands dig into your thighs, his breathing ragged. He's close. "Pull out," I tell him. "Cum on her."

He groans, slamming into you once, twice more then pulls free. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking fast, and then he's cumming, thick white ropes splattering across your stomach, your chest, the psychedelic flowers of your swimsuit.

You whimper, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Good," I say. "Now turn around." You shift, your knees on the couch, your hands braced against the back. Your ass is in the air, the swimsuit still pulled aside. I position myself behind you, my cock pressing against your tightest hole.

"Relax," I murmur. "Let me in." You breathe out, and I push forward, slow and steady. The head pops past the ring of muscle, and you cry out, your fingers clenching against the fabric of the couch.

"That's it," I say. "Take all of me in your ass."

I sink deeper, inch by inch, until I'm fully inside you. I pause, letting you adjust, feeling your body relax around me. Then I start to move.

The friend is watching, his cock softening but his eyes still hungry. He starts to work has cock he meets my gaze and I nod.

"Get under her," I say. "Let her ride you."

He moves quickly, sliding beneath you, his cock hardening again as you lower yourself onto him. Your pussy swallows him, your ass still full of me.

"Oh god" you moan. "Both.... both of you.. I can feel..."

I set the pace. Slow at first, then faster, my hands gripping your hips. The friend matches my rhythm, thrusting up into you as I drive down. You're trembling, overwhelmed, your body filled completely.

"Please" you gasp. "Please, I need"

"You need what?" I ask, my voice low against your ear. "Tell me."

"Cum," you moan. "I need you to cum inside me.... fill me up... please..."

I thrust harder, deeper. The friend groans beneath you, his hands on your breasts, squeezing through the wet fabric. I feel your body tighten, your orgasm building.

"Cum with me," I tell you. "Now."

You break. Your whole body convulses, your pussy and ass clenching around us, and I follow you over the edge, my cock pulsing deep inside you, filling your ass with cum. The friend groans beneath you, thrusting up once more and then he's pulling out, stroking himself, cumming across your lower back, hot and thick.

We stay like that for a moment, breathing hard. Then I pull out slowly, watching my cum drip from your body. The friend slides out from under you, his chest heaving.

You collapse against the couch, your swimsuit ruined, your skin covered in cum, your eyes half-closed.

"Good Puppy," I murmur, stroking your hair.

You smile, tired and satisfied. "I liked that," you whisper. "Being used."

"I know," I say smiling. "I could tell."