He Showed Up Without Warning and We Ended Up Against the Hallway Wall

Hello again, my dears.

I know I’ve abandoned you, I admit it. Between work and exhaustion, routine eats away at creativity… though it never takes away the desire to keep feeding these passions that consume all of us around here.

Let me tell you why I’m back today of all days. My partner made a request that left me thinking. He wants a photo of me from behind, my entire ass bare, spread wide so everything can be seen. In his exact words: he wants to look at it when I’m not around, pull out his cock and jerk off thinking about how he fucked me the last time. And here I am, turning it over in my mind, wondering what you all think. Should I send it to him, or make him suffer a little longer with a hard cock he can’t touch?

Because the truth is, that part of my body drives him crazy. He says my ass squeezes his cock like nothing else, that when he puts it in my asshole he feels himself coming in two minutes and has to bite down to hold back. And I, being more inclined to take things slowly, have to confess that I like him putting it in there too. More than I’d like to admit out loud.

And so you can understand where that damned request came from, let me tell you what happened the last time. Because that last time was quick, urgent, with almost none of our clothes off, his cock out in the hallway and me biting my hand so I wouldn’t scream. One of those encounters that gets seared into your memory between your legs.

***

It was an ordinary weekday. I had just gotten home from work, melting. Summer in this city doesn’t let up, and all you want when you walk through the door is to get everything off as quickly as possible. Taking off my shoes, blouse, and pants while the air conditioner starts beating back the heat is one of the few glories I have left in July.

I stayed like that for a while, in my underwear and top, sprawled across the bed, letting the cold air dry the sweat on my back. I’m not talking about being horny yet, mind you. I’m talking about that pure relief of feeling your body cool down after a long day. To me, that’s one of the possible paradises.

Then I put on an old cotton T-shirt and a loose pair of house shorts, the kind with an elastic waistband that almost look like a little skirt. I ate whatever I could find standing up in front of the refrigerator, and since I was carrying the kind of heavy sleepiness that weighs you down, I decided to steal half an hour from the afternoon before dealing with my obligations.

I love sleeping. It’s never enough, never sufficient. So I take advantage of every little bit of time life gives me as if it were the last.

I don’t know how much time passed. What I do know is that pounding on the door pulled me out of sleep. I stayed still for a few seconds, confused. I almost never had visitors show up without warning, and I wasn’t expecting a package. Who the hell could that be at this hour? I thought, still with a pillow mark on my cheek.

I got up reluctantly, adjusted my shorts, and walked to the entrance, dragging my feet.

The last person I imagined was the one I found on the other side. And if I’m completely honest with you, my mouth went dry and my pussy got wet in the very same second. My God. It was exactly like those filthy scenes in the dirty novels I love reading in secret.

This man undoes me. Seeing him there, standing with that brown skin, his worn jeans outlining the bulge, a white T-shirt, and a cap turned backward. That crooked smile he wears when he already knows he’s going to fuck me. For an instant I wondered whether I was still asleep and it was all part of a dream that was too good to be true.

“Did I wake you?” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“A little,” I admitted, feeling the heat climb up my neck and run straight between my legs. “Come in.”

We greeted each other with a hug, one of those long embraces in which the body understands things before the mind does. I felt his hard cock against my stomach through his jeans, and he squeezed my ass with both hands as if it already belonged to him. The conversation was brief. Barely four disconnected sentences, questions with no real answers, because neither of us was there to talk.

I knew it the moment my eyes met his. He’d come with a very clear intention, written in his eyes. He’d come hungry, and I was dinner.

***

I have to confess something that embarrasses me a little. That strength men have drives me crazy, the ease with which a man can handle you, turn you, bend you, and fuck you if he sets his mind to it. And I’m not exactly a feather. I’m not thin; I’ve got plenty of me, and even so he moves me at will, as if it were nothing. That, I swear, soaks my panties in a way I can’t explain.

That difference in strength turns me on, feeling control give way without anyone being forced. And let me make this clear, because it’s important: I’m talking about something between two consenting adults who desire each other and said yes. The rest doesn’t interest me.

He sat down in one of the dining-room chairs, legs spread and his bulge unmistakable beneath his jeans. I stayed standing beside him, and from down there he raised his head to look at me. He took my hips in both hands and pulled me toward him, without hurry but without asking permission. He buried his face right at the apex of my thighs, against the fabric of my shorts, and breathed deeply over my pussy as if he wanted to take my scent inside himself.

“You’re already horny, aren’t you?” he murmured, and I felt the vibration of his voice directly against my clitoris.

I didn’t answer him. There was no need. The damp stain in the cotton spoke for me.

Then he lifted his gaze to my eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one hand down and lowered one side of my shorts. The elastic gave way without resistance, almost as if it had been made for that moment. Then he pressed his mouth to the skin he had just uncovered, slowly biting the curve where my ass begins.

I instinctively jerked backward. I hadn’t showered yet; I had the whole day on me, summer sweat clinging between my legs, and I told him so haltingly, embarrassed. But today he didn’t care about any of that. Quite the opposite.

“I like you better this way,” he murmured against my skin. “All sweaty, with your pussy already smelling like you were waiting for me.”

He pulled my shorts all the way down to my ankles and left me standing in front of him in soaking panties. He ran two fingers over the fabric, pressing my slit, and felt how the cotton was dripping. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them slowly, staring straight at me. Then he made me spread my legs, moved my panties aside, and put his tongue right there, seated in the chair, his hands squeezing my buttocks so I couldn’t escape.

I grabbed his cap, his shoulders, whatever I could. His tongue traveled over me from bottom to top, going in, coming out, pausing on my clitoris with firm pressure, never rushing. He licked me as if he’d been thirsty for months. I felt him moan against my pussy, and that vibration sent a tremor through my legs that nearly made me collapse onto him.

His hands began moving slowly up my body, taking in everything. When they reached my breasts and he discovered that I wasn’t wearing a thing beneath my shirt, I saw his eyes light up. As if he’d just found a half-wrapped gift and couldn’t wait to open it.

He yanked my shirt up, leaving my tits bare. He smiled. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucked it hard, nibbled it, and with his other hand squeezed my other tit until I moaned out loud. Feeling his tongue there while two of his fingers slowly entered my soaking pussy undid me completely. I felt myself dripping even more down below, that warm wetness between my legs that always gives me away, no matter how much I try to hide it.

“You’re such a filthy whore,” he whispered against my nipple, his fingers moving in and out with wet sounds. “Look at how you’re soaking my hand.”

All I could do was nod, biting my lip, my hips moving on their own over his fingers.

***

He stood up without letting go of me, his jeans already unbuttoned and his cock poking out, thick and red at the tip, glistening from all the fluid it was leaking. He guided me toward the hallway, that narrow stretch between the living room and the bedrooms. I tried to slow him down a little, I confess. I wasn’t supposed to have sex vaginally those days, for my own reasons, and I tried to make him understand between kisses.

“Wait, we can’t… not the usual way,” I managed to say, my hand wrapped around his cock over his underwear.

But he and I had already explored other paths. He turned me around with gentle firmness, putting my back to him, and leaned close to my ear. I felt his breath before his words, and the tip of his naked cock resting right in the crack of my ass.

“What about your ass?” he whispered. “Let me put it in there. I’ll slide it in slowly, all the way.”

The entire back of my neck prickled. I closed my eyes for a second, thought about it for half a second longer than I should have, and said yes. I said it in a hoarse voice, pushing my ass backward so he could feel that I wanted it.

He ripped my panties off in one pull. He spat twice into his hand and coated his entire cock, then spat on me, right onto my asshole, and spread the saliva around with his thumb, pressing it against the opening. I was trembling all over. He put one finger in first, up to the knuckle, and moved it in circles to relax me. Then two. He pulled them out and pushed them back in while, with his other hand, he pinched one of my nipples and whispered filthy things into my ear.

“What a tight ass you have, my love. Your pussy’s going to start dripping when I put my cock in you.”

There, holding me against the corner of the wall, with desire getting the better of both of us, we spent the most delicious minutes I can remember in a long time. Between kisses on the nape of my neck, quick caresses, and my ragged breathing, he entered me little by little. I was soaked, my pussy literally dripping down my thighs, but even so it was difficult at first. My body resisted and surrendered at the same time, the ring of my ass tightening around the tip of his cock as if it had a life of its own.

He pushed it in patiently, just the tip at first, sinking it in and pulling it out barely an inch, gaining ground millimeter by millimeter. I felt that strange, exquisite tingling that appears only when someone fucks you in the ass. A mixture of pressure, embarrassment, warm burning, and pure pleasure that resembles nothing else. Every time he pushed a little farther, a sharper moan escaped me, and he covered my mouth with his hand, telling me in my ear to hold on, that he was going in, that he was almost there.

I adjusted my hips, searched for the angle, arched my back, offered him my open ass, and let him move forward. When he finally entered all the way, when I felt his balls slap against my pussy, I could no longer hold back my moans. I leaned forward, pressing my forehead and palms against the wall, lifted my ass toward him, silently begging him not to hold back. And he didn’t.

He drove into me eagerly, each thrust deeper, each one faster. I pressed one palm against the wall so I wouldn’t lose my balance, and with the other hand I slipped two fingers into my pussy to rub my clitoris in time with his thrusts. I was so wet that I made sounds, an obscene sloshing mixed with the dull smack of his hips against my ass. My moans mingled with his, hoarse against my back.

“Like that, like that, harder,” I begged, not recognizing my own voice. “Break my ass, fuck me hard.”

“What a whore you are,” he panted, gripping my hair with one hand and my hip with the other. “Look how your little ass is squeezing my cock.”

There was no bed, no romance, no lengthy foreplay. Just the two of us standing in a hallway, desperate, fucking like animals, unable to wait. He pounded into me without restraint while I rubbed my pussy with three fingers, feeling everything build below my belly, ready to explode.

I came first. A long, filthy orgasm that made me squeeze his cock with my ass so hard he let out a muffled moan and sank his teeth into my shoulder. I felt my own pussy gush over my fingers, soaking my hand and thighs. Then he lost control. Two, three more thrusts, incredibly deep, and he came inside me. I love feeling him reach his climax, that moment when his whole body tenses, and I felt every pulse of his cock emptying his hot come deep inside my ass.

We stayed like that for a while, him still inside me, holding me around the waist, his fingers idly playing with my hard nipples, both of us trying to catch our breath against the wall. When he finally pulled his cock out, I felt a warm trickle run down my thigh, his semen escaping from me, and I couldn’t tell whether I was embarrassed or even more turned on.

***

When we finally parted and went to clean ourselves up, we realized there had been a little blood mixed with his come. And here’s the strange part: I never felt him hurt me. No pain, no discomfort, nothing. I don’t know whether it was the excitement, the urgency, or both together, but I swear it didn’t hurt at all. Just pleasure, the good kind, the kind that leaves your legs trembling for half an hour afterward.

I would gladly repeat an encounter like that, without a second thought. In fact, just remembering it while I write this to you, with my hand inside my pants, I can feel that treacherous little tingle in my clitoris again.

And that’s exactly where the damned photo request came from. He wants to keep a memento of the ass that squeezed his cock so deliciously in that hallway, something to look at and jerk off to when I’m not around.

So there you have it, my dears. The question is still hanging in the air. Should I send him the ass photo, or make him wait a little longer with his cock hard?

You tell me. A huge kiss, and I’ll see you soon.