Free Back Room Casting Couch - The Mature Anal Casting Diaries

This is going to be a long one, though I'll try to shorten it as much as possible. You can skip ahead to the sexy part if you want. I met Katy at work. I won't go into the details, but it was a low-paying job and she was a new manager. You've heard of love at first sight? We hated each other. She hated my aloof attitude and I hated her desperation to prove herself as a new boss. Looking back makes the rest of the story make sense, when you look at it that way. Katy and I didn't become fast friends. She was the closest thing I had to an enemy at the time, and we were forced to work together by happenstance. Grudgingly we grew to respect one another. She was a good leader, I had to admit, and never did anything to make me feel like she was just lording her power over me. I was a hard worker and a fast learner and she quickly learned to rely on me whenever she needed something done. A year after we started working together we were close friends. I'd learned a lot about her. I learned she was dating a woman, one of the worst kept secrets in the world, and that she was having problems with the relationship. I became a sounding board, someone to listen to her vent and offer advice. I started to feel something for her I hadn't thought possible. Of course I put it in the back of my mind. After all, I was just some nerdy guy that needed a job and she was this...amazing woman. She had traveled, and she was smart and she was witty and just made me feel so plain next to her. We were odd friends, nothing more. Why would a girl like her - someone who made my heart flutter and made my world feel utterly alive - want someone like me? Someone who hadn't done a great thing to date. I read once about how Julius Caesar saw a statue back room casting couch porn of Alexander the Great and began weeping at the fact he was Alexander's age when he'd conquered the world and yet hadn't near as much to show for it. That was my greatest fear. I had friends going to college and joining the military and doing all these amazing things and I was just barely keeping sane. Katy was like a sip of awe that filled my body with drive, motivation. Icould be great if I had a friend like her. But we weren't bollywood casting couch just friends. I'll save you the tear-filled admissions of love, the night spent up late together trying to figure out what to do when a lesbian in a committed relationship falls for a guy who was determined to do the moral thing at all costs. I won't talk about how I damned myself with every word, knowing that I was leading her to admit her feelings like the careful manipulator I am. I won't talk about how it feels for the woman you love to tell you she loves you back. I won't tell you about how hard it is to think of yourself as good and honorable and yet want so badly to do the wrong thing. We two odd friends slowly became an odd couple. We swore not to do anything while she was in a relationship, until she could fix it. I promised to step aside, to stay friends. We went to movies together, to dinners, to my home. It wasn't dating, of course. We were only friends. But every moment we spent together put us closer and closer to that edge, that sudden drop from "just friends" to lovers. We wrestled playfully, until that turned into touching but never kissing or nudity. No, it wasn't cheating if we didn't do that. It wasn't wrong. Even if she was feeling up my manhood through my pants, and grabbing me hungrily it wasn't cheating. Even when I kissed and licked and bit my way down her taught tummy it wasn't cheating. We were friends, or something like it. Until the night I couldn't take another moment. We returned from a just-friends walk in the park, tired and cold. We collapsed on my bed, huddled for warmth. My cock was already hard and straining against my jeans as I put my arms around her, hugging her close. We joked and chatted, each pretending that we here had our own world where the rest of life didn't matter. We didn't have to keep our budding relationship secret. We didn't have to toe the line between right and wrong. She wasn't betraying a woman she'd spent three years with and I wasn't betraying every ounce of pride I had in myself. She was so close I could smell free back room casting couch her. That tantalizing scent of a woman. She wasn't a perfume and makeup kind of girl, preferring the just the bare minimum of femininity. Her hair was shoulder length, but unstyled, her body covered in a grey sweatshirt, hands in the front pocket. I loved this woman beyond reckoning and for nearly six months I'd been a monk, not daring to touch her where I so wished to. Call it respect. Call it cowardice. It doesn't matter any more. She wiggled herself towards me, getting comfortable and pretending not to notice my swollen cock pushing against the small of her back. Feeling her body move, my hand just lightly tracing her curves, my manhood pressed against her. I couldn't take any more. I was trying to fight it but there was something in me demanding to be released. A monster chomping at the bit to be let loose on this woman in my bed. ~~~~~~~~ I tried to sate it with small gestures. I nuzzled her neck and cheek, nipped at her skin, breathed her in. She let out a small sigh, content. There was no controlling it anymore. I lifted myself up on one arm, rolled her towards me with the other. I put a hand to her cheek, traced full pink lips with my thumb and my whole body was shaking with desire. She knew it. There was conflict in her beautiful green eyes, those eyes I so loved. My hand was at her sweatshirt, urging it over her head. She complied, and her V neck T-shirt showed me a chest rapidly flushing, with the barest hint of cleavage from her B cup breasts. I don't why I did it. Every muscle screamed at me not to but I just didn't care. I let everything else that mattered fade away. This was who I am; this monster of lust and passion with not an ounce of logic to it. That was me. I embraced it. I pulled her shirt down, revealing a pink nipple beginning to stiffen. She reached up and covered herself, trying to pull her shirt up. I moved her hand away, lightly in case she wanted to stop. She relented and her arm fell above her head. I kissed her breast, ran my tongue in a circle around her nipple before finally sucking it into my mouth. I thought she would surely stop me any second so I abused this opportunity for everything I could get away with. I sucked her nipple, bit it, flicked it with my tongue. I pulled away, almost ashamed. I expected her to cover herself and for her to tell me no. I thought I had done the unthinkable and would surely face every consequence I had coming. Instead I saw that her nipple had become an angry red, hardened, and there was a deep flush spreading across her breasts and up her neck. She was breathing in sighs and her lips were pursed to hold back - what? A moan? A scream? She didn't move. She lay there, one arm above her head and the other hand gripping my arm tightly. I moved, going to her next breath, tugging her shirt down, and taking her breast into my mouth and sucking. It was then I realized she had been gasping, and she was breathing hard. "Am I hurting you?" I asked, not knowing what else to say. It seemed so juvenile, I realized. Something a teenager would ask and not a grown man sucking on a woman's tits. "No," she said. "You're breathing hard." "It feels good." "They look excited." "They are excited." The moment hung there, heavy. I didn't know how far to go, what to do. She lay there, staring at me, and I watched her breasts heave up and down with every deep breath. I pulled on her shirt harder, wanting to see both of her breasts in full relief. "You're going to stretch my shirt," she said. "Then take it off," I replied. She hesitated, clearly trying to decide what she was going to do. Quietly she relented and slipped out of her shirt, saying only, "The bra stays on." I nodded in agreement. And I started to kiss my way down her chest, to her stomach, pulling her tight jeans down as far as they would go without unbuttoning them. She jumped when I kissed her just above her panties. "You should stop," she whispered. I stopped but asked, "Do you want me to?" I could feel the heat radiating from beneath her pants, where she was fidgeting and shifting under me. "You need to stop," she said in non-reply. "Do youwant me to stop?" She finally decided to play my game and said, "No." "I won't." And her pants were suddenly unbuttoned and sliding over her wide hips. Her thick thighs were over my shoulders and I didn't give her a chance to object before pulling her panties aside and slid my tongue over her folds. She shuddered and I got my first taste of her. It was everything I had imagined it could be in my fever dreams of her. Any minute she would regain her senses, I knew, and so I would use every second to please her and make her want me as badly as I wanted her. I licked and lapped, I forced my tongue inside of her. She writhed and let out a moan, black casting couch grabbed the back of my head and grinded me against her. She gave in to her desires just as I had. I stood up on my knees, pulled her panties off and without another word returned to her sex. I flicked her clit with my tongue and made her back arch. I sucked it, and she let out her loudest moan yet. I stopped to remove my shirt and her hands were on my belt, pulling my pants open and fishing out my cock. She wasn't a fan of dick, she'd told me. She liked women and she liked being eaten. I expected when we finally did the deed it would be uncomfortable and not something we would cherish. I didn't expect her to stroke my bare penis, the first she'd seen since high school, and look up at me with fuck-me-eyes and say, "Do you have a condom?" I'd bought a pack the night she told me she loved me, just in case. I wanted to be prepared. I grabbed one from the bedside and ripped the wrapper off. By now she was the wettest woman I'd ever known and I couldn't wait to plunge inside her. I so badly wanted her I would have done anything. I wrapped my dick and lowered myself to her. I kissed her cheek and down her neck. I grabbed her gracious ass and pulled her close to my cock. With one hand I gripped myself by the shaft and balls and placed myself at her entrance. I hesitated, scared to be the first man she'd slept with in years. She put her hands on my ass and pulled me into her. I fucked her like an animal. I left bits all over her neck and breasts, and I thrust hard enough to rock the bed against the wall. She let out a small scream with the first thrust and I slowed down a bit, still forceful but more measured. She moaned into my ear and gasped, her breath coming short. She felt amazing. Her body pulled me to her and I obliged. I picked up the pace as her hands roamed across my back and shoulders. I fucked her like I had nothing left. She grunted and moaned with every slap of skin, every squelch of her sodden gash. I rolled and pulled her onto me, expecting her to look at me with confusion and fear like she had every time our friendship verged towards the sexual. Instead she rode me for everything she had. She rocked her hips and ground against me. She let out loud moans and reached up from my shoulders to grab her hair and breasts. "Squeeze these," she said with a laugh as she pulled my hands to her tits. I did as I was asked. Sitting up, I grabbed her shoulders to force her into me and to bite and suck her bare nipples. "Oh, my god," she whispered and her mouth dropped open and she orgasmed silently on top of me. I felt her body quake and a held her to me. I wasn't finished yet and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. I put her on her back again and gripped the edge of the bed, burying my face in her strawberry blonde hair and this time I well and truly fucked her. I wanted to be sure that if after this moment we only remained friends she would always remember the way I felt inside her and the way I made her cum. The bed rocked so hard I thought it might break. I pulled and pushed off the mattress for leverage and slammed myself into her with every bit of force I could muster. She fucked me back, moaning and verging on shouting. "Oh fuck!" she said into my chest and started to shudder again. We casting couch-x.com fucked like we never would again. "I'm going to cum," I whispered and she nodded, still riding through her second orgasm. I decided to focus on myself and build to my own climax. I deserved this. She pressed her cheek against mine and held me while I pumped, trying to make my pleasure last as long as I could before filling the condom with months of pent up frustration. She let out another gasp and this time I felt her cum on my cock and I lost it. We collapsed into each other, gasping and breathing hard, me throbbing within her. The rebound I expected never came. Instead we spent a long time basking in each other, enjoying one another. We laughed and commented on each other's performance and talked about what we wanted next. The night grew long and she told me she had to leave. She thanked me, touching the sweat that had beaded on my forehead, telling me how sexy it was. I'd like to end the story there. I'd like to have a happily-ever-after ending or the promise that we're alright or even that things just ran a natural course like all things do. But I want you to know why I wrote this, and why years later I still think about it with a mixture of fondness and heartache. Months after we had both gotten different jobs. We saw each other less, though we still texted each other every day. We still made plans and tried to see each other. She broke up with her girlfriend and asked only for a little time before we became official. We talked about how much we loved each other and what our ideal wedding would be. And one day she stopped answering my texts. She started breaking plans. I knew the inevitable was coming and tried to hold on all the harder. Until the day she told me she met someone else, and that she didn't want to date me. "He's just so different," she said of her new boyfriend. I was filled with rage and sorrow. I thought back to all the times I sacrificed my principles for her. All the times I traded honor for a few moments near her. I thought about the heartache and longing I'd already suffered in her name. She was dumping me like I was nothing, like I hadn't been in love with her and she with me. "But," I could only say, pitifully. "I love you." I look back at that and cringe in shame of my own stupidity. "I know." She looked sad, almost like she knew what she had done. I still think of her. Every day, all these years later. I still hate her and love her in equal measures. I don't think I can ever just get over her, despite what others might say to me. She was the woman I loved. The woman I had been willing to give up everything about myself I valued to be with. And I hadn't mattered to her at all. I hate her. I love her. I'm ashamed to say that what happened between us unleashed a monster. I was going to get revenge, prove that I didn't need her. Of course this meant fucking my way through every girl I could get my hands on, and maybe I'll share those stories another day. For now I just wanted you to know why my heart is broken. WritingOut