Me and Taylor? We’ve been good friends since our undergrad days at NYU, navigating the chaos of frat parties and all-nighters in the Big Apple. Back then, she was head-over-heels for this finance bro, and I was casually dating a sorority girl, but our spark? It was undeniable, electric vibes that had us sharing secrets over late-night pizza slices in Greenwich Village. Taylor was a total smoke show – killer curves, radiant skin, and that effortless glow. She worked at this chic Sephora in SoHo, where guys would flock like moths to a flame, lingering outside the store just to catch her smile and chat her up about lip gloss.
Life kept rolling: she snagged a fab marketing gig in Midtown, while I shipped off for boot camp with the Marines down in Parris Island. But girl, our connection never faded – we’d FaceTime and text about everything from career highs to bedroom lows, no filter needed. One weekend on leave, we’re chilling with iced lattes at a cute café in Chelsea, and she dishes this wild tale about her and her guy sneaking off to a secluded spot in Central Park after dark. He pulls her behind some bushes, hikes up her skirt, and takes her right there on the soft grass, the city lights twinkling overhead. I lean in, my heart racing: “Was it a total rush?” She smirks, her eyes sparkling: “Super thrilling for him – he came in like, under five minutes, his hard cock throbbing inside me like crazy.” She admits she was buzzing with nerves, her pussy dripping wet but clenching tight, half-expecting joggers to spot them mid-thrust, adding that forbidden edge that made her whole body tingle.
Then things get steamier as we chat about blowjobs. She’s all intrigued by deep-throating, explaining how you’d tilt your head back just so, lips stretching wide to take every thick inch down your throat, feeling it pulse against your tongue. And honey, she demos it right there – arching her graceful neck, those plump, berry-stained lips parting invitingly. My cock springs to attention, swelling hard against my jeans, a rush of heat flooding me as I picture her warm, velvety mouth sliding down my shaft, sucking me deep.
On my way back to base, I shot her a text confessing how her little show left me throbbing and desperate. She calls, her voice a flirty giggle: “Whoops, didn’t mean to get you all worked up like that.” I tease back: “You’re my go-to fantasy queen, you know that.” She purrs low: “Bet your cock’s rock-hard right now, pulsing with need.” Me: “Next leave, you gonna help a Marine out?” Her laugh is pure temptation: “You bet, handsome.”
Flirty banter like that? It sprinkled our friendship with this irresistible spice, keeping the butterflies alive and the tension simmering.
Fresh out of the Corps and diving back into grad school at Columbia, the drama ramps up – she and her boyfriend are clashing like crazy over his late nights at the office. She crashes at my off-campus apartment one stormy night, curling up on my couch in yoga pants that hug her perfect ass. Lord, I was dying to run my hands over her smooth skin, to feel her shiver under my touch, but I played it cool like a gentleman. We even ended up sharing my queen bed after a movie marathon, my boxers barely containing my growing erection, yet I kept my hands to myself. She wakes up with a grateful hug, calling me her “hero” (if only she knew how my cock ached all night, leaking pre-cum at the fantasy of spreading her legs and diving into her sweet heat).
Then the ultimate betrayal: she walks in on him with his side chick. She shows up at my door in tears, clutching a bottle of rosé from Trader Joe’s, her mascara running but still looking fierce. We pop it open, the bubbly loosening our tongues as she vents about giving him her virginity back in freshman year – how her tight, innocent pussy had wrapped around his shaft for the first time, only for him to chase after some new co-ed. She’s glowing from the wine now, her cheeks flushed, body leaning into mine, her full breasts brushing my arm and sending sparks straight to my core. Our gazes lock, charged with years of unspoken want, and suddenly our lips meet in a whirlwind of passion – tongues dancing, hands roaming, her soft moans vibrating against me as her nipples pebble under my thumbs.
I undress her with trembling fingers, revealing her flawless body: perky C-cup breasts with dusky nipples begging to be licked, a toned tummy dipping to her neatly waxed pussy, lips already puffy and glistening with her arousal, a sweet nectar scent filling the air. I trace my throbbing cockhead along her slick folds, feeling her hot juices coat me, her clit swelling under the pressure. She wraps her manicured fingers around my veiny length, stroking firmly as she breathes: “You sure you want me like this?” I’m consumed by fire – no words, just a powerful surge forward, my thick shaft parting her velvety walls, stretching her deliciously as I sink into her molten depths with a wet, enveloping slide. Eight years of bottled-up desire unleashing in waves of ecstasy, her pussy fluttering around me like silk, gripping every ridge and vein as we move in perfect, primal rhythm.
We lose ourselves in the frenzy, her sultry whimpers driving me wild as my hips piston forward, slamming deep without holding back. Her creamy wetness floods us, making each thrust smoother, more intoxicating; I feel her inner muscles ripple and contract, her clit grinding against me in electric bursts. Bare and raw, no condom in sight – I bury myself to the hilt and explode, my cock spasming as thick ropes of hot cum surge into her womb, blending with her essence in a sticky, satisfying flood that leaves us both trembling.
Sunrise peeks through the blinds; she’s still dozing, her nude form a masterpiece – breasts softly rising, her pussy lips flushed and dewy from our passion, a pearl of our mixed fluids trailing down her thigh. My cock hardens anew, veins pulsing, tip slick with anticipation. I position myself between her thighs, rubbing my swollen head through her slippery slit, parting her folds and reveling in the warm, inviting pull. She stirs sleepily as I thrust in deep and rough, her eyes flying open, lips parting in a gasp of delight and surprise. My girth fills her completely, her walls hugging me with that perfect friction, every inch sending shivers through us both.
We linger this time, bodies glistening with sweat – starting missionary with her legs hooked around my waist, nails raking my back; flipping to cowgirl where she rides me slow and deep, her breasts bouncing hypnotically, pussy grinding down to take me fully. The build-up is exquisite, her moans crescendoing as her juices soak my balls. Once more, I unleash inside her, cum jetting in powerful pulses, her pussy milking me dry in waves of shuddering, shared bliss.
Leaping ahead from that unforgettable first night with Taylor (my irresistible temptress). Just two weeks later, she’s mending fences with her ex – talk about a plot twist. Then she hits me with the news: a three-day conference in Vegas together, sharing a luxe suite at the Bellagio. Nights tangled in king-sized sheets? They’re a couple, sure, but envisioning his hands on her curves, his cock sliding into her welcoming heat? It ignited a fierce, jealous fire in my belly, my own shaft twitching with possessive need.
A few days before they fly out, she sets boundaries: no texts or calls while they’re away. She reads my vibe like a book, tilting her head: “What’s got you brooding, stud?” I force a smile: “Go slay it, girl – have the time of your life!” A beat of silence… then: “I’ll buzz you when we’re back in the city.”
Those solo nights? My mind replayed him claiming her body – parting her thighs, pounding her senseless – as I stroked my aching cock furiously, cum erupting in frustrated release.
She FaceTimes me two days post-Vegas: “Miss your face – you good?” We banter lightly, then I probe: “So, did you two heat things up in Sin City?” Taylor: “Yeah… don’t hold it against me, okay?” Me: “Dish the deets, babe.”
“How many rounds of fun?” “Five scorching sessions.” “In just two nights?” “Hell yes!” “He cum deep in your pussy?” “Every time but the grand finale – that was a messy facial, his hot load dripping down my cheeks and lips.” We swap more juicy bits, her voice turning me on, my cock swelling with a mix of envy and arousal.
That weekend, we linked up for drinks. She’s serving looks: a flirty mini skirt that barely covers her toned thighs, fishnet stockings adding that naughty edge, strappy heels making her legs endless, makeup with smoky eyes and red lips that scream “kiss me.” My cock stirs instantly, begging for attention.
We hit this trendy rooftop bar in Brooklyn – fairy lights twinkling, cocktails flowing endlessly. Flirty chit-chat evolves into us pressed close in a corner booth, my hand grazing her knee, feeling the heat from her core radiate through the thin fabric. Tipsy and tantalized, I caress her cheek, tracing her jaw; she melts, eyes drifting shut. I pull her in for a deep kiss, our tongues entwining in a slow, sensual tango, her breath hitching as my fingers brush her inner thigh, inches from her dampening heat.
Pulling back, I whisper hot against her ear: “Wanna take this somewhere more… intimate?” She nods, a breathy “Yes, please.”
Arms linked, giggling like teens, we hail a cab to a sleek boutique hotel nearby with those vibe-y viewing lounges. We snag a private suite, pop on a rom-com for background noise. As the bubbly arrives, I eye her hungrily: Gonna make you mine tonight, every inch.
Volume up, lights low and moody – I pounce, devouring her mouth while my fingers slip between her legs, rubbing her swollen clit through soaked lace, feeling her pussy lips bloom and weep with desire. My other hand glides under her top, cupping her heaving breast, thumb teasing her rigid nipple until it throbs. She gasps into the kiss, her palm pressing my bulge, unzipping to wrap her soft fingers around my pulsing shaft, stroking with feather-light touches that make pre-cum bead and slick her grip.
Driven wild, I tear her fishnets at the crotch, the rip exposing her drenched thong; she moans in excitement, her pussy clenching visibly, juices glistening. I shove the lace aside, her pink folds parting eagerly, slick and ready. Aligning my throbbing cock, I plunge in with one fierce thrust, her tight heat swallowing me whole, walls rippling around my girth in a velvet embrace, her wetness making every slide pure heaven.
Her ensemble’s a sexy mess: top pushed up, breasts spilling out with nipples peaked; skirt rucked to her waist, framing her ass; torn fishnets highlighting her core, heels still on as she wraps her legs around me. Thrusting hard, I growl: “He fuck you this deep, making your pussy quiver like this?” She hesitates, lost in pleasure, then whimpers: “Yes… his cock pounds me just as relentlessly, stretching me wide.” It fuels my fire; I yank off her top, then snap her thong’s flimsy strap, the scrap dangling like a badge of conquest.
Her delicate necklace and hoop earrings – gifts from him – swing wildly with each powerful slam, catching the light as her body arches. “Who spoiled you with these, gorgeous?” “My boyfriend…” Oh, so wickedly hot: thong hooked on her heel, jewelry jingling while I dominate her, my balls drawing tight with impending release.
I aim to pull out and paint her pretty face, but her thighs lock around me like velvet steel, her pussy spasming in orgasmic waves. Surrendering to the pull, I erupt, my cock throbbing as I flood her depths with scorching cum, our essences mingling in a creamy, dripping symphony of utter satisfaction…
