The things I never share: Part 1 - A Little Bit of a Lift
I've decided, since I never share this kind of thing with most people I know, why not share it here instead? After all, the whole site is devoted to kink, so where better to share the deepest, 'darkest' things that go through my mind?
I should start by saying I am not at all the kind of girl you might expect when looking at me. Short, round, glasses, 44DD chest and a waist I don't even dare measure, I look like someone you'd expect to be a librarian or maybe a teacher, or possibly that woman at the organic foods store that can take you straight to the lavender honey without you even needing to ask. Basically, wholesome and homey are two words that are frequently used to describe me.
Inside... not so much. I have a literary bent, so fantasies, for me, take on a whole new meaning. They become writing, or full on movies in my head. From the most simple to the most complex, bizarre, kinky or detailed you can imagine, I've probably thought of it and put it to 'paper' in my mind, but some tend to surface more often than not.
This is one of them.
As grey-ace, you may think 'she's probably not into much', but the truth is, while I haven't had many positive experiences with men, it doesn't change the fact that, for the right one (so far, he exists solely in my mind), I know I would be an absolute devoted cockslut. The mere thought of him unzipping his pants makes me want to get on my knees for him immediately. I don't care what he wants, my mouth is his to use. My throat is nothing but a sleeve for him to drive into as hard, fast, slow or gentle as he wants.
The thing is... I don't necessarily even know him. In my mind, I often envision a scene in which I'm simply at a hotel, on my way back to my room from the lobby, when I find myself entering an elevator whose sole occupant is a man who's clearly at the end of his rope. He's been fondling himself through his pants and is dying to get back to his own room so that he can empty his balls wherever happens to be a suitable target, and something in me snaps the moment I can see his problem. That little voice in the back of my mind tells me he needs help and I'm the one to provide it.
As soon as the doors close, I'm on my knees in front of him, shirt pulled down below my bra and watching as he unzips his pants, obviously aware of my willingness to be his canvas. He's already virtually on the edge, so it only takes a few strokes, but soon my chest is painted white, dripping down through the crevice as his hand slows and I replace it with my lips, licking and kissing away every trace until his cock is clean and balls emptied, not forgetting to give the latter a tender suck before helping him back into his pants. I massage the precious lotion into my skin as he watches before tugging my shirt up again and licking the last remnants from my fingers, giggling at the surprise on his face as I stand up just before the doors open to my floor and step out as though nothing happened, the couple entering giving me a quick, polite smile as they pass, seemingly unaware of any possible sheen on my skin. With a last, brief wave at the stranger, I hurry back to my room, washing my hands just in case of any stray risks before seeking my bed for my own relief, already almost dripping wet.
You see, for me, it's as simple as a mathematical equation. I see that meat or the indication that it's in need of relief, and I want to provide it. In my mouth, on it, on my chest, I don't care as long as I can be on my knees for him and making him proud and satisfied. The fact that a kink of mine is exhibitionism (I didn't even know what that was years ago when I was masturbating in the car at the supermarket while waiting for my parents to finish shopping, but I do now) only adds to it, and makes me want to seek out any chance to be of service, even if it means being in an empty aisle at the store, or behind the car at a layby. If it wasn't for the safety aspect (healthwise, that is), I'd already have found the nearest gloryhole and started making nightly visits to be a little toy for anything that comes through, not that I haven't already researched where the nearest might be.
I guess it's true what they say. You never can trust the quiet ones...
