A friend of mine, Ryan, took me to Corpus Christi last weekend. It was a lot of fun, even if it was super duper ridiculously cold.
Okay, it wasn’t that cold. I’m just a huge wuss when it comes to unideal weather…and I’m terrible at appropriate packing, evidently.
As some of you know, I write down lots of my adventures. Here’s a little snippet from what I wrote about the beach.
Ryan picks me up when he’s done with work. I’m helping my roommate with her website as he comes in. He’s wearing jeans and a gringo shirt, and red Chucks. Hipster. He can pull it off.
We pack up, and we’re on the road.
I’m quiet. It’s weird, I can feel myself slip away from talkative-me, into my head. I’m nervous, feeling very shy…part of me just wants him to acknowledge that so I can maybe release.
He doesn’t. It’s not his style…I’m learning his style, and he’s not exactly super talkative and expressive himself.
I barely pay attention to what we chat about. Rather, I don’t pay attention to what he talks about, since I’m too busy zooming along in my brain. After about an hour, I calm a little as the conversation moves to science and philosophy. He recommends a book—The Science of Fear. It sounds good, so I make a note to buy it later.
He puts his hand around my neck and I relax a little. It reminds me of LA. The driving, the waiting, the insecurities surrounded by the security of no control…
When he pushes me down into his lap and says, “Take it out,” I happily suck his cock. I’m glad to have something to do with myself–it’s far better than sitting and thinking.
I like giving him head. I’ve never given road-head before, so that’s fun. It’s a little awkward, but fun. He pulls me up for a break, holding my neck again. Then he grasps my thigh, moves close to my pussy, slapping me hard before grabbing my hair and pulling me down again…
I’m turned on as fuck when he stops me once more. He urges my thighs apart and yanks down my leggings, putting his hand near my cunt.
Jesus. If I was one to call the shots, I’d demand he pull over and fuck me immediately.
But Ryan’s slow, in control. Teasing.
When he slips his finger inside, I gasp in pleasure. He tells me to thank him.
“Thank you,” I whisper, trying to keep myself from thrusting up against his hand.
“Thank you, what?”
“Thank you, sir.”
Sir. Fucking lifestyle vernacular. It’s a necessity for some. I can go with it.
He pulls out, holding his hand against my pussy again. Teasing me. When he slides back in, I groan in pleasure. Quickly, too fast, he pulls out and slaps my thigh.
“Thank you, sir!” I gasp, realizing my mistake.
He’s really good at this. Some guys fumble around, their lacking knowledge of female anatomy embarrassingly obvious…not Ryan. He knows what he’s doing, and I start to respect him even more.
Feeling for my clit, he pinches it. Pain. I crave it…I gasp, wiggle, but I don’t want to get away.
For the rest of our ride, he does this, working me, turning me on. By the time we get to Corpus Christi, I’m insanely wet. We stop for dinner. I’m famished, but Maslow’s hierarchy is way off, here. I’d go without food for a few days if I could just get fucked…
We talk a little about where we’re going to camp, and I look it up on my phone. It’s supposed to be really remote.
“Is it safe?” I ask, thinking about some of the remote places I’ve visited in Mexico and wondering if I should’ve left my laptop at home.
“Is it safe?” He laughs. “Define: safe. You’re going there with me. Of course you’re not safe.”
I smile. Good.
We have another hour or so before getting to camp, and he teases me for part of the way. By the time we get there, I’m so goddamn wet that he has me put a towel under myself to keep my juices off the seat.
We drive on the beach to a spot that’s far from other campers. It’s freezing.
Not literally. It’s probably seventy degrees. But it’s windy, and I’m cold. If I had my way, we’d set up the tent and get on with things under some wind protection.
Ryan has other ideas. He has me kneel and blow him for a bit before telling me to get up and take my clothes off. I do, getting colder by the second. He goes to the car and brings back a blanket.
Rather than throwing it around me, he puts it on the sand. “Kneel.”
I obey. He holds my hair.
“You need to be grateful.”
I attempt a nod. It’s the spiel…be grateful to the dominant for being oh-so-kind, etc, etc. It throws me off.
I thank him. I suck his cock. He tells me to get up and we get close to the water.
We step into the water.
It is so fucking cold.
“Kneel,” he says.
I do. I’m shivering.
I suck his cock some more and he tells me I need to obey him this weekend. I nod. Agreed.
He pulls me up and puts the blanket around me.
“Oh my god this feels so good—“ I begin, but I’m interrupted as he yanks it off, grabs ahold of my waist, and spanks me a few times, hard and fast.
“Ow! Fuck! Owww!” I gasp, hopping.
“What did you forget?”
“Please, sir…? Thank you, sir!” I manage.
He smiles, and wraps the blanket around me again.
He takes me up shore, puts the blanket on the ground, and tells me to lie down. I do, cold, and wait for him. When he comes back, he has me turn over and he spanks me.
He’s good at spanking. I love it.
He lays on top of me, and I love that, too. The pressure. The welcome warmth.
“Thank you, sir…” I say, relaxing against the ground. “That feels so fucking good.”
There’s another blanket, and he puts it over me. He’s watching headlights in the distance. They’re getting closer, and he pulls the blanket off my ass, holding me by the neck so I can’t watch the car.
“Do you think I should let them see you here, naked?”
A moment passes. I struggle to move my head, to hear if the car is approaching or not. Then I see it, it’s gone by us, and I squirm.
“You totally let them see me—“ I begin, protesting.
He holds me tight and spanks me hard. I stop struggling.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I whisper when he stops.
“Turn over. Lay on your back.”
I do, and he slips on a condom before getting between my legs. I tilt my pelvis up toward him—I want his cock inside me so fucking bad.
He’s slow, though. Teasing me. I’m squirming, relentlessly horny and needy…
He smiles. I know he’s enjoying my need, my desperation. When he slides inside me I groan, thrilled to have his cock…
“Thank you, sir.”
He’s fantastic. Some guys work, others don’t. Ryan? He knows how to fuck. He thrusts hard, giving me what I want, then goes back to slow, teasing, merciless…then beginning again…it feels so goddamn good.
I come hard, my moans muffled by the crashing waves behind us, my legs wrapped around him. I never want this to stop, I want more, just more…more fucking…my legs shaking, my words stumbling…
“Thank you…oh! Fuck! Thank you, sir!”
When he comes it’s beautiful, it’s controlled. He’s still orchestrating the show…Usually, an orgasm is where I get a glimpse of a man out of control. Not with Ryan. I can see his satisfaction, I can feel it, my pussy trembling around his cock, but not once does he seem beside himself with pleasure.
He rolls off me. Instinctually, I want to cuddle up to him, post orgasmic bliss. But he has a hand on my thigh and I recall that some guys don’t want that sort of thing. I keep my distance, he keeps his, and we lay under the cloudy sky.
I curl up under the blanket. It’s chilly, but I’m still in the heat of the moment. I doze off, awake, and doze off again. I wouldn’t mind sleeping outside tonight.