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I looked up shyly wanting to confide the thing I wanted the most – afraid of what you might think. "Just tell me," you looked at me with those dark brown eyes full of question and lust. The pause was truly pregnant, the air between us so sexually charged and yet simultaneously contained. My hesitation hovered in the air. "No one’s ever eaten me out," I said quietly, looking down, my cheeks flaring with shame. Silence which made me look up. "That’s it?" The look on his face was incredulous and he stifled a laugh. "I love doing that." "Yeah, that’s it. That’s what I want." I sounded defensive. And then he did laugh. "I thought you were going to share something crazy with me." And then he could see how crestfallen I was at his casual laughter, how in my moment of honest vulnerability he needed to reassure me that I wasn’t some freak. It had taken us days to finally get around to this conversation. Weeks really. A few days prior he had brought up a throwaway comment I had made to him on an earlier business trip when I said: "Well, you’ve never been with someone like me." And apparently he couldn’t get those words out of his head. And here we were, weeks later, on another business trip, several drinks deep, and he brings up that comment, one I didn’t even remember making. "What did you mean by that?" he said. His velvety eyes narrowed as if he were trying to peer into the inner recesses of my hinted sexual history. Only I knew that my words were simply me doing what I do well – teasing. The reality was I had no great experience. I had a shitty sex life with a vanilla man who had almost no sex drive himself, but I had a fire deep inside that was beginning to burn hot. I wanted more, I knew there was more, and the connection between us was so magnetic my words were a brazen taunt. And here we were, stranded hundreds of miles from home due to bad weather along the east coast, stuck in a lovely downtown Charlotte hotel on a day with blue skies and balmy temperatures. We had wandered the streets, lunched, laughed, flirted, and finally – against both our better judgement – landed in my hotel room where the dirty talk began. The conversation meandered from how we cum, to what excites us, to what we fantasize about. At one point, you looked up shyly but with pride in your voice and said: "You know I’m really big." "Oh are you now?" My turn to mock. My experience was so limited, I didn’t even know exactly what he was implying, but I knew I wanted to see for myself. Finally he told me what you had wanted to share all along, that his sexual interests ranged beyond the standard vanilla variety and extended into the world of BDSM. His current partner wasn’t interested in that. She tolerated it but didn’t love it, and she would cry when he wouldn’t cum right away, which created a great deal of anxiety for both of them in the bedroom. My exposure to BDSM was strictly limited to an ill-advised reading of Shades on a business flight back from San Diego. Did it get me going? Hell yeah. But it was written so poorly I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the books. I knew how much I cared for him and how much I wanted to possess his body. Our emotions were so far gone at this point, and we had held out for months trying to casting couch tubes fight our physical desire. But here we were – under the most bizarre set of travel circumstances I’ve ever experienced – stranded in a faraway city. It all felt so unreal. I lay on the bed as we continued to talk dirty and fantasize together about public sex and voyeurism and cosplay. And then at some point you got up and lay down next to me and I asked you to take your shirt off. Your chest was covered with thick, dark hair, and I ran my fingers through it, feeling the rapid beat of your heart. And then it happened – a moment I will never forget for as long as I live – you leaned over and passionately kissed me. I wish I could say [empty] it was magic. It was not. We had both been with other people so long that our mouths were unused to each other. But we were searching for what we knew was ours and I have never felt such electricity and relief as I did the moment our lips locked. You pulled at my skinny jeans and lifted my top over my head, unhooking my bra, and then you removed my panties. You looked me straight in the eye and said: "I want to do this for you." And the next second I had this glorious sensation of movement and warmth radiating from my pussy and lower abdomen as your tongue licked my clit and played with my lips. My breathing went from rapid to hyperventilation. Even to this day I don’t know how long you ate me out. It could’ve been a few minutes. It could’ve been an hour. And then you crawled back up to kiss me and I could taste all my sweet juices on your mouth and smell my musk in your beard. You had given me something I had always wanted, and to this day I will be forever grateful for that gift. You rolled onto your back and held me close in the crook of your right arm, my naked casting Couch body pressed videos porno amateur up against yours. I pulled your shorts down and your engorged cock sprung free. "Are we doing this?" I asked with my words and my eyes, and I mean are we fucking. "No!" you said firmly but guided my hand to your throbbing, warm cock. I grasped it with my right hand and began jerking you. "Harder," you said, and I complied and proceeded to give what is probably the best handjob I’ve ever given. I stroked you up and down faster and faster. Periodically you would smack my juicy ass with your free hand, and I could see how aroused it made you and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. No one had ever hit me during sex before. And then you came, hard, cum shooting feet into the air past your head hitting the headboard behind you porn casting couch, shot after shot. I was so fascinated by the whole thing. My one and only sexual partner had only ever cum in my pussy. I had never seen anything like it before and to experience it with someone I felt so emotionally connected to, it was a truly beautiful experience. You held me that night as we slept, or I tried to sleep. My head was racing with thoughts. What does this mean? Where do we go from here? How can I live without this? You held my hand in the cab, and while we were in line at Starbucks at the airport to grab some coffee you leaned in and whispered in my ear: "Do you think you could cum just from being spanked?" "I don’t know," I said wide-eyed, "but I’m totally open to trying." The plane ride home was surreal. As we floated tens of thousands of feet above the ground, it was as if we were living in a parallel universe where the love we had for one another was enough and the complications of our circumstances back home didn’t matter, my head on your shoulder, your hand on my knee. I remember our parting hug in the parking garage at the airport. Your phone buzzed. It was your mom texting about your grandmother’s health, a reality check that our beautiful few days was over. At least for now. Neither of us knew what this would mean. Little did I know it was just the beginning of our adventures and certainly my very first taste of my kinky side, which I have only continued to explore more deeply. Don’t worry. If you like, there are many more stories to come. thechurchgirl