After much internal debate…I’ve decided to post a few of the stories that I once shared on reddit so that anybody new will have a chance to get a sense of what my writing is like.

The following sordid tale transpired last summer (2020) and was part of a very memorable week for me. Many exciting events happened but the most significant was my relationship status elevation from ‘girlfriend’ to ‘fiancée’. (The actual proposal episode is maybe worth sharing at some point as well. Not so much sexy as terrifying!).

Anyway! Without further adieu here is that story…


So last week was a particularly memorable and very, very special one for me! A number of things happened and while I won’t get into all of it, there is one sexy part that I’ll share.

To set the scene, there are a few things to mention…

One is the actual space me and my guy were in – a very small but very charming cottage near the beach owned by family friends. It’s a true cottage in that it lacks many modern amenities – including heat. The only source, other than plug-in electric heaters, is a wood burning fireplace in the main living/dining area. So we dragged a mattress from one of the bedrooms and set up our little love nest on the floor in front of the fireplace.

The second point to mention is that during the weeks and weeks and weeks of build up during our forced separation, there was lots of sexy conversations with some very explicit suggestions as to what might happen between us when we were finally back together. One such item was a certain promise/threat(?) he had made about going down on me ‘for an hour’.

The last thing relates to oral sex in general. Now my guy is a couple of years older than me but has had around the same pretty small number of past relationships (compared to most other friends I know anyway). In his case, none of his previous partners were much into oral sex…at all. Giving or receiving. Now I appreciate how receiving can be intimidating – I have had my own issues that way being caught up in paranoia about how I taste/smell and it can ruin the mood entirely. So I get it. And while giving doesn’t have to end with his goo in my mouth I also know some women are pretty squeamish about cum – so I get that too. However, I actually have never really minded the taste/texture so much, and when it’s from a partner I have deep feelings for (as now) then I fall to the other side where I very much enjoy it. And as for receiving…so long as I feel fresh and clean then I’m all in! Okay, so, all that to say he is very much enjoying my enthusiasm for both and he has a wonderful fascination for playing with my pussy in a way that he has never been able to before. Something I hope he never loses interest in doing! Haha.

Okay, so cut to the end of last week. Much had happened in the preceding days, and there had been a fairly ridiculous amount of sex. We were on our second to last night. It was after dinner and the sun was setting and we were lying on the mattress when he began to meander the kisses he was giving me away from my mouth. After trailing down my throat, and side trips to visit both my breasts, his lips continued on down over my stomach. He paused then to refill champagne glasses while I took advantage of the moment to start a new playlist.

When he resumed, he parted my legs with his hands, drawing my knees up on either side of me so that my hips tilted back. He gave all of me an extended look with a particularly long and lingering examination of my spread and exposed pussy. Then with a tongue still chilled from the champagne he gave me a long lick. Mmmmmmm.

He fell into a rhythm of sorts. Four minute loops give or take. He would spend the first minute just looking at my pussy from his close range view, not touching, just enjoying the visuals in a way that I never would have been comfortable with previously with anyone else doing. And then the next minute would pass where he would lightly touch me, typically just with his tongue. He would give a feather weight lick to one side or the other, or over my mound, or gently part my small folds. Then the next minute the licks would get more focused and begin involving a few visits to my clit. And last of all, spurred on my whispered encouragement, and often directed by my hands that would find their way to clasp his head, he would bring me with a final flourish to a writhing, gasping, panting, groaning, sometimes giggling, orgasm.

I didn’t appreciate initially that he was intending to give me his promised hour of attention, but then I’m not sure he was either. But he was in no hurry to stop. And I was certainly not going to discourage him from continuing! So after giving me that minute or so pause to regroup after each time I came, while he would sip champagne and continue to visually examine my increasingly wetter and very throbbing pussy…he would begin again.

That playlist is just over 100 minutes long. It was when the music had stopped and he had brought me to the very last (of that sessions) orgasms that my pussy caught fire. Almost literally.

He had on occasion brought in his fingers to join his mouth. Sometimes just on the outside, sometimes inside me. This time he had slid (two?) fingers inside me to give my g-spot that come-along-with-me gesture. That, combined with his tongue swirling over my clit (not to mention all the previous somewhat anticipatory previous orgasms) made for the most full-body, complete loss of muscle control orgasms of the night. I went through a huge number of aftershocks even after he’d withdrawn his fingers and mouth. My legs clamped together and I’d desperately grabbed his wrists to keep him from touching me as any stimulation was too much right then.

But then after a half minute or so I calmed down and I brought my knees up again as I craned my neck a bit to get my own visual to see if my lips and clit were as crazily engorged as they felt. Which was when I was treated to a mental picture I won’t soon forget.

Over the last hour and half or more the sun had fully set. It was now totally pitch dark aside from the light of the fire. Everywhere between my legs was soaked (just literally dripping wet) with a combination of his saliva and my own goo. The flames from the fire beyond reflected off of the gooey sheen. It was amazing! It totally made it seem like my pussy was on fire.

I had to share the memory which somehow involved spilled champagne and him accidentally kneeling on my hair before we figured out he needed to lie with his head on my chest to get the same angle. Somehow we went from the very peak of intense passion to giggling like idiots in the space of a minute. Mmmmmmm.