An Unexpected Late-Night Hookup

The "ping" of Facebook Messenger jolted me awake shortly before 1:00 on a Sunday morning. I mumbled groggily to myself as I reached for my phone, hoping that I wouldn't be hearing from certain members of my "fan club," a handful of male Facebook friends who were prone to sending me late-night alcohol-fueled sexually-charged messages that I ignored and they later regretted.

This time, fortunately, the message was from someone I actually didn't mind chatting with in the middle of the night: David, my close friend, my sometime pep-talker and ass-kicker, and—when geography and circumstances permit—my fuck buddy. David no longer lived in my small town, but he was visiting that weekend to attend the memorial service of a friend who'd recently passed away. I didn't expect to see him because I knew that, under the circumstances, he'd have many demands on his time and attention, but we ended up spending a few hours together on Saturday afternoon.

"Did I smell that bad?" he asked, referencing a message I'd sent him on Saturday evening about how good I thought he smelled when I'd given him a chaste goodbye hug.

"You smelled fuckable," I replied.

"I was so fucking horny at that point," he said.

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I sent him a sad-face emoji.

He continued, "I was thinking about you wrapping your lips around my shaft."

"We should have found a place to do that," I jokingly responded.

"I was trying to, but you weren't having it," he said.

This was news to me. "I wasn't?" I asked.

"Yes," came the reply.

I wouldn't have purposely turned down the opportunity to worship the most perfect cock I'd ever put in my mouth, but as an once-awkward geek who didn't truly embrace my sexuality until my early forties, I was still somewhat oblivious to men's flirtations and advances. "Why didn't you just tell me to suck your dick?" I typed furiously. "THAT I can understand."

David was silent for a couple of minutes, but then he said, "I'll drive out there right now."

"Really?" I asked. I certainly wasn't expecting that response.

"Yes," was his immediate reply.

"You have to stay outside," I typed. "My girls are here." My daughters often spent weekends with their dad, but they were home this weekend. Even though they were asleep, I didn't feel comfortable inviting David inside.

We spent the next couple of minutes working out the details, such as where David would park and when he'd arrive, and I got out of bed and hastily dressed myself in a white tank top and teal booty shorts. I sat in my dark living room waiting eagerly for him to arrive. About 30 minutes after we started chatting, I saw headlights shining down my lonely dead-end road.

My house sits atop a small hill, so I walked to the bottom of the driveway where I told David to park his car. It was a muggy July night, quiet except for the chirping of insects and the purring engines of the cars traveling on the highway about a mile from my house. We stood behind the car for a moment and then David reached down, gently removed my glasses, and laid them on the car's roof before wrapping his arms around me and kissing me.

We stayed like this for a few minutes—arms entwined, bodies pressed close—and I could feel his cock getting hard. He slid his hands down my breasts and belly, stopping to tweak both of my nipples fairly roughly before slipping a hand down the front of my shorts, no doubt feeling how wet I was. "No," I said, pushing his hand away. I wanted this night to be about him.

In hindsight, I might have welcomed some "war wounds" as a souvenir of the fun I had that night, but knowing that the concrete and gravel in my driveway would make kneeling painful, I squatted on the ground in front of David. I rubbed his cock lightly through the fabric of his shorts before I unbuttoned and unzipped the shorts, sliding them and his boxers down far enough to reach out and grab the hard shaft that was now right at face-level.

With my right hand still on the shaft, I kissed the tip lightly and then put the tip in my mouth, my tongue swirling slowly before I used my lips to apply just enough suction to make David react. "Mmmmmm," he moaned as he settled his hands in my hair. With my left hand now grabbing his ass, I ran my tongue down the underside of his shaft and gently licked his balls. With every touch, every lick, I could feel David's cock responding, growing harder, pulsing, throbbing. I could tell that he was anxious for me to take as much of his thick cock as I could take into my mouth, but he wasn't going to force the issue. Not yet, at any rate. I was in control at the moment.

For the next few minutes, I enjoyed teasing him. I alternated between licking and sucking the head while using my right hand (and occasionally my tongue) to work the shaft. But then it was time to go further. I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around his shaft, slowly pulling him toward me and savoring the feel of every vein and every bump against the inside of my mouth and my tongue. His cock, already rock-hard, swelled even more. David moaned his approval as his hands, still in my hair, gripped more tightly, pulling my hair hard enough that it hurt just a little. He started thrusting his hips back and forth slowly in a rhythm similar to the rhythm in which my head was moving.

Although David had patiently allowed me to work some magic with my lips, hands, and tongue, he was now starting to assert control. Still clutching fistfuls of my hair in his hands, he forced his cock deep into my mouth. I started to make choking noises as tears rolled down my cheeks. He occasionally gripped the back of my head with one hand and use the other hand to pull his cock out of my mouth and slap my lips, face, and tongue while drool streamed from my mouth, down my chin, and onto my tits. At that moment, I was David's dirty cumslut, my mouth just another hole for him to defile.

I could tell by the low, guttural grunting noises escaping his throat that David was very close to cumming. I grabbed his ass with both of my hands, clawing at him ever so slightly and pulling him closer even while he continued to fuck my face. As he choked me with his thick cock, I made some filthy grunting noises of my own. Finally I felt his cock pulse, the head swelling slightly as streams of thick, salty cum filled my mouth and throat.

After I was confident that I'd fully drained his balls, I let David's cock slide slowly out of my mouth. While he was pulling up his pants, I grabbed my glasses from the car's roof and put them back on, and I used my tank top to wipe the thick sheen of cum and drool off my chin. I usually didn't prefer the end results of my blow jobs to be so sloppy, but the whole experience was so unexpected and so intense that I didn't mind all that much.

With our arms thrown loosely around each other, we leaned against the back of his car, stargazed, and talked about nothing in particular. And then, because David would be traveling later and needed to get some sleep, he got into the car and drive back to his host's house.

After David left, I made my way carefully back to my house and back to bed. It was, at this point, about 2:30 in the morning, and I was exhausted yet exhilarated. Once again, I was drifting off to sleep when the "ping" of Facebook Messenger startled me.

"That was so fucking hot," the message read.