“Please,” she moans.
I don’t need to hear it twice. I slide her jeans down past her hips and she wriggles them down the rest of the way, baring her toned ass to me. I pull out a condom as I spin her around and guide her back onto the hood of the car, making sure she’ll have a nice view of the city while I’m pumping inside her. As I hoist her up, she winces a little at the coolness of the metal on her ass, then smiles with delight. She takes the condom from me and tears it out of the package as I do the same with my cock. Her tongue flicks between her teeth as she slowly rolls the latex over my dick with the restrained anticipation of a carefully unwrapped birthday present. Once it’s on I lean over her and she hooks herself onto me, arms around my back, legs pulling my center towards hers.
Her moan is sweet, warm, inviting, just like I know her *’s gonna be. Her body’s slender, especially under my wide shoulders and tensed torso, but as I push inside of her I feel engulfed by her. Trapped between her fine legs, pulled by her clawing nails, squeezed by her hot, wet *.
I unbutton her shirt and push her bra up over her chest, her soft breasts slipping out of it and bouncing mesmerizingly, the brown nipples hard and beckoning. When I take one between my lips and suck, she freezes for a second with the burst of new pleasure before succumbing once again to the pounding rhythm of my cock inside her.
I’m just getting into it when her gasps start to stutter, and her hands start to slip against my back. Her head thuds against the metal of the car, and I take the hint. However much I want this moment to last, I’m not going to get left behind. I let myself gorge on the sight of her ripened lips, run my hands once again along the delicate lines of her open thighs, suck and bite at the shuddering perfection of her breast.
I come seconds after her body goes limp and soft, its last dregs of energy used up in the effort it took her to scream into the sky. I raise my head from between her breasts and smile at how wonderful the sight of a woman satisfied looks.
After I pull myself away, she stares up at me, still stretched out on the hood of the car. She’s smiling at me with a new kind of disbelieving admiration. Little does she know I’m already planning a future vlog – on the pleasures of outdoor fucking, with some tips and tricks to help out the novice.
Laughing softly, she says, “I guess this is why women like bad boys.”
If she only knew…
1
Nate
I start taking off my clothes as soon as I’m through the door of my apartment. Shirt on the floor, kicking my shoes off, down to my underwear. I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, glaring at myself in the mirror.
There’s a rush that happens when I’m about to make a video. Not the cock-stiffening hotness of seducing a woman, not quite the intellectual satisfaction of closing a six-figure deal for work that I had no right to – it’s something else. Something I still can’t figure out. It’s a catharsis and a comfort, a deep feeling of fulfillment I’ve never quite gotten from anything else.
I boot up my laptop and sit on the edge of the bed while I wait, taking out the candles my female fans love and lighting them so they cast an incandescent hue over my body, the lines of my chest coming alive in the flickering black shadows.
I’ve asked myself a million times why I carry on making these videos. I don’t need the money, and all it would take is for a girl to recognize me, or for a slip to happen, and I’d be discovered. If that ever happened I’d probably enter a world of problems. Work would suck – if I could even keep my job – and I’m still not sure if it would help or ruin my sex life.
But something brings me back, something deep inside of me. It’s not quite the ego-boost – I’m self-aware enough to admit that - and it’s not even the idea of helping people – I’m not that altruistic. Again and again though, whatever it is still compels me to sit here, stare into that lens, and talk. And it’s not the kind of bullshit I roll with at work-it’s the truth. Maybe that’s the part I’m addicted to. The part where there are no boundaries, no rules. Where I can tap into the deepest, darkest part of what it means to be a man, to lust and to hunt and to conquer. All amid the liberating joy of anonymity.
I set the angle right with focused precision, just below my mouth, nothing visible in the frame but my chiseled torso, the waistband of my Calvin Kleins, and the blank wall behind me, and then I press record.
Confessions of a Bad Boy #234: The best one-night stand I’ve ever had