The Guy Who Loved Squirting
Why are some guys obsessed with squirting?
There’s nothing like a new cock to forget about the previous cock. Three weeks on, I was slowly getting over the whole sad affair with R but knew I needed a good solid fucking to truly move on. While my heart did ache over what should have been, it was admittedly more my ego that took a battering from the rejection. I’d had penises fail on me before, but not in the way R’s did. His explanation was fair and his assurances comforting, but it still made me feel… unattractive.
What I wanted was to feel desired again. Of course my husband always makes me feel sexy and attractive but I can’t deny that another man wanting me is a massive boost to the ego. And that’s exactly what I needed: to be completely consumed by a man’s primal lust. I wanted to be devoured as though fucking me was putting end to an agonisingly long famine. I wanted no say in the matter: a hard cock would enter me again and again to remind me I was subject to his will.
L was one of a few guys I got to know via The Site in the last few weeks. I rarely engage in online chat but L and I built rapport quickly. It helped that he was intelligent and skilled in his profession. I always admire men who are a master in their field. In my experience, being highly-skilled out of the bedroom is often reflected in how well they fuck. I’m rarely disappointed if I base my choice in men on this criterion so I had a good feeling about L. We set up a meet.
The three of us did the preliminary chat over drinks at a local bar but wasted no time in getting back to our house to fuck. L was clearly excited at the prospect of having me and didn’t need any encouragement to get the night moving along. Soon we were naked on the bed and left to our own devices while my husband drifted in and out of the bedroom. Mindful of what happened with R, my husband was happy to let L have his fill of me before joining in.
L promised that he was skilled with oral sex and he didn’t disappoint. His mouth explored every part of my pussy, letting his tongue run all along my lips before flicking his tongue over my hard clit. I was sufficiently satisfied with the tonguing but happily welcomed a couple of his fingers sliding into me. Before I could contract my pussy to enjoy the penetration, L began to apply pressure against the front wall of my vagina. As he increased the pressure, I realised what he was doing.
Our chats did involved talk of ‘gushing’ orgasms but I had no idea how much L was into squirting. His fingers rapidly pumped me until I felt that pleasurable yet odd release. I had only experienced it mildly once before but this was the real deal. As his fingers came out, so too did a lot of liquid. L took great glee in this while I found it a little horrifying. I came, but it wasn’t particularly arousing. Truth be told, I was more concerned about what the fluid was (some of it is indeed urine apparently) and if I had to wash our bedding.
L performed this on me once more before I suggested that it was perhaps time to actually fuck me. I really didn’t need to wade in my own bodily fluids all night. My husband certainly didn’t gain the same sort of excitement out of squirting that L did so eventually we hinted strongly that I plain just needed cock inside me. I later tactfully told L that the first time was genuinely good but the effect was diminished after the fifth or so time.
Thankfully, L was also adept at fucking. He had a nice shaped cock of average size and certainly knew how to use it. We had discussed that we both liked sex on the rough side so there was hair-pulling and almost brutal thrusting while I resisted a little beneath L’s weight. I had forgotten to let my husband know that the roughness was encouraged so he had to tell L to be gentle when left on our own again. I assured L that I loved it though and told him to force me to want his cock.
The next day, I found it hard to walk as I did the washing.