Truth or Dare
- 3 years ago
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Truth Or Dare? free porn video
“Truth or Dare?”
"Truth."
“What’s the worst sex you ever had?”
“Oh god,” I laugh, my face burning scarlet with my hands covering my face. I look up and remember.
Back at the turn of the millennium, when MSN chatrooms were hotbeds of lust and cybering, I had fallen for a smooth-talking, witty, funny American. There was something free about talking to someone half-way around the world. I found I could talk more easily to someone I’d never met than with people face to face.
And then the bombshell dropped.
“Hey, Susie... Guess what? I’m going to be in the UK for a few weeks with work and I should be able to make it up to Edinburgh for a day or two.”
“That’s great. Maybe I could show you around?”
The offer was out of my mouth and typed on screen before my brain caught up with me.
“Mmmmmm, I know exactly where I’d like to be shown around, you naughty girl.”
Fuck, I’d seen his picture and he was cute looking but cybersex was one thing. Meeting up with a random stranger who could be a serial killer for all I knew was a slightly different matter. He’ll never make it, I reasoned. He won’t have time. He won’t realise Scotland isn’t a suburb of London.
But a couple of months later, I had somehow agreed to meet him. He’d messaged me that he was staying in one of Edinburgh's innumerable hotels and it had a pub downstairs. I’d seen a picture of him, but I’d still insisted he met me outside. I was not going to trawl the bar like a hooker searching for him.
And then my period started. Fuck!
I messaged him, telling him I’d got my period but his reply was so nice, I felt I couldn’t cancel on him.
“That’s ok. We can still meet for a drink. I have to head to Newcastle tomorrow so won’t be back again.”
I put on a green velvet dress over a pair of black bra and knickers along with a pair of black woolly tights. I was just glad that the first day of my period was a light one, but I knew I’d have the stomach cramps from hell tomorrow.
I clomped down the cobbled street in my boots, turned the corner and there he was, smoking a cigarette and searching both sides of the street at once, waiting for me.
It was the clumsiest meeting. I walked up to say hello and he tried to shake my hand and kiss me on the cheek at the same time, while I was going for a quick peck on the lips. The resulting face mangle left us both blushing and looking a bit uncomfortable.
“You grab a table and I’ll get a drink. What would you like?”
He came over to the corner table with a bottle of beer and a glass of white wine and sat down, grinning. The conversation flowed, it was like we were back online. The nervousness was forgotten as we talked about music. We had a shared appreciation of The Clash, the Dead Kennedys and The Pixies. We talked about movies, how Almost Famous was the perfect movie and the first time I’d actually liked an Elton John song. The wine flowed. When he casually mentioned he had a bottle of champagne in his room if I fancied coming up, no strings attached, well, I giggled and agreed.
In the room, while he fiddled with the champagne cork, I turned on the tv and found the MTV channel. I almost turned it off again as Shania Twain told us she felt like a woman but turned, distracted as I heard the pop of the champagne cork.
We clinked glasses and I knocked most of the bubbles back.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I giggled and slipped into the ensuite bathroom. I was feeling a bit tipsy and reckless and slipped off my dress and the rest of my clothes. Wearing just my bra and knickers, I stepped back into the room.
He stood there, sort of gormless looking, holding the bottle in one hand. I walked up to him, took the bottle and put it on the bedside unit and pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top. I wasn’t sure if it was the champagne, the wine before it, or the knowledge this was a one-off but I never felt more flirtatious. I unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it open and sending a button flying off. We kissed, his hand pawing at my breast through the bra while I ran my hands over a smooth hairless chest.
I reached for the bottle and poured some champagne over his chest, bending my head down to slurp and lick it off. His hands reached behind and unfastened my bra and suddenly I found myself on my back. He grabbed the bottle and poured it over my boobs. The feel of the champagne bubbles on my nipples was so cold it felt like a shock. He mimicked me, sucking the champagne from my breasts, tugging the nipples with his lips, greedily moving from one to the other.
He reached down and tugged my knickers down while I lifted my hips to help him. He slid his trousers down, khaki chinos I recall with a shudder, and I saw his cock swell in his boxer shorts. He was enthusiastic and got between my legs, pouring more champagne over my curls and licking and lapping at my pussy. He was more like an enthusiastic puppy than a lover, but it felt good. It’d been a while since anyone has gone down on me and I was starting to enjoy it.
“I want you to suck my cock, baby.”
'Fuck’s sake,' I thought. Can’t he keep his mind on one thing?
“You make me cum,” I agreed, “and I’ll suck you dry.”
I lay back again. I was starting to feel a little light-headed. As he pushed a wet, covered-in-champagne finger inside me and started to roughly finger me, my stomach began to roll and heave.
He was lapping his tongue at my pussy but managing to miss my clit with every lick. He poured more champagne over me. He now had two fingers inside me, which were stretching me and beginning to hurt rather than excite.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned, “I’m going to be sick.”
I pushed him off me and rolled over to get off the bed. It was now I realised that I was actually quite pissed. I had no control over my legs and crashed into a chair, managed to knock a champagne glass of the dresser and staggered and bounced off the wall before making it into the bathroom.
After throwing up, as I knelt clutching the bowl with both hands, I remembered that I always get drunk really quickly when I have my period. I managed to get up and rinsed my mouth under the tap and staggered back into the bedroom.
He was sitting on the bed, looking concerned. I remember him asking, “Are you ok?” as I crawled onto the bed and slumped.
------
I woke up and it was dark. A thousand thoughts ran through my head. ‘Where was I?’ was quickly replaced by, ‘What happened?’ He was lying sleeping beside me. I was lying naked in bed. A cold knot gripped my stomach. 'Fuck, did we have sex and I can't remember?' I felt between my legs. 'If we did, please have used a condom,' I silently prayed.
I moved my arm and he stirred beside me. “Hi,” he whispered. “Are you ok?”
“Did we have sex?” I asked, bluntly.
“No,” He replied, sounding pissed off. “No blowjob, no sex, no nothing. You passed out so I put the covers over you.”
"Oh, thank fuck," I silently cheered. I actually felt fine now I’d thrown up and had a quick sleep. The fact that I was still probably still drunk explained the lack of hangover.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “We could do it now if you want?”
He was up instantly like an excited puppy. He had a box of condoms already on the bedside cabinet and without even any foreplay he had the condom rolled on and was kneeling between my legs.
I lay there in a kind of daze, not really believing he was just going to fuck me but he got into position, kissed me and pushed inside. I think they must have been lubricated condoms because it didn’t hurt too much. He started to move, thrusting away, his hands either side of my head like he was about to do a press-up. Suddenly his face contorted and he made a kind of strangled whine and he came.
He pulled out and I had to ask. “Did you cum already?”
He was really sheepish and said, “Yeah, been waiting all night. Sorry.”
“Can you get hard again?” I reached my hand out to stroke his cock, but he just pulled away and said I needed to give it a while before it got hard again.
He lay back down on the bed and rolled over and went back to sleep.
I lay there, feeling like shit. I guessed he was fucked off I’d passed out on him but the way he’d just fucked me and didn’t touch me or hold me, either before or afterwards just made me feel like a whore.
I looked at the time. 5:15 am. I knew the buses would be running. I quietly slipped out of bed and gathered my bra and knickers and got dressed in the bathroom. I walked back into the bedroom to get my boots and he stirred.
“I need to go,” I told him. “I’ve got work in the morning.”
I bent down and gave him a quick kiss and he did nothing, he just lay there, looking up at me.
I got home, having stopped at the corner shop on the way to pick up my hangover cure; a can of diet coke, a packet of crisps and a double-decker chocolate bar and curled up on the sofa ready for a day of watching Dawson’s Creek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Friends.
And the final kick in the teeth…
The next day, when I opened my Hotmail account. There was an email from him, titled “Too drunk to fuck.” Now I know he’s trying to be funny and quoting the Dead Kennedys but, 'fuck you,' I think.
I sent him back a one-liner.
“I thought we did fuck. Maybe you blinked and missed it.”
Cayleigh
- 03.12.2021
- 15
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