If Only I Could Tell You About Last Night, Punk

I slept with (s)Ex again. The sex was largely unremarkable. But the oral sex was wonderful. 


Not long after I arrived he had my dress off over my head, and he pushed me onto my back he had two fingers deep inside me and was licking my clit.


I screamed with ecstasy, digging fingers into his shoulders. I was very wet, and very ready. I got on my knees and I sucked his cock hard. I wasn't patient like the times before. I wanted him to come. He was ready, and he came quickly with his cock deep in my throat.




I was hoping for extraordinary sex, but it wasn't unfortunately. I think perhaps the second blow job might have teased him too far. Things fizzled within minutes with him on top. He came hard though.


I dressed quickly, not wanting to waste time. I hate to hang around afterwards. I pulled my dress and bra on, gathered my iPod, keys and phone. I kissed him on the cheek, tucking my panties into my handbag.


As I reached the front door I kissed him on the cheek good bye. My phone rang. I picked it up and recognised the number. The name wasn't saved in there, but I knew who it was.

My little Punk. Bless him. I love that boy. I really do. And after ten years, he's still my boy. 


Ahh Punk. This songs for him. This story needs a sound track.


I met a boy. Ten years ago. I was 14. And I challenged him to a drinking competition. I won. Nothing like a girl who can out drink an army man all night to capture a mans attention.


I remember the night vividly. I spent it being spanked and fucked in the back room by his good friend.  Hand around my throat on my knees... 


After being fucked I wrote my number on his bottle of bourbon, and I left. 


He called me. Every day. We went for drives and hung out. Eventually just after I turned fifteen, this young army man and I ended up in bed. It was an intense night. He picked me up and fucked me. I'd never been with anyone strong enough to just lift my (then 45kg) body up and fuck hard. He wasn't violent, but rough. He dragged me around, pushing me onto my knees, my back. He came over and over. I came so many times on my knees I passed out. After fucking me for hours, I waited till he fell asleep, then I snuck out his bedroom window, and left him there, holding his pillow. 


I ignored Punks calls. My boyfriend would have gone insane if he'd found out. After a couple of months, I eventually caught up with him again. My disinterest only made him crazier for me. He'd changed. His hair was green to match my beautiful dyed black hair. My heavy dark make up. He'd pierced his lip which went nicely with the half a dozen piercings I had. 


Poor Punk. I liked him better before he tried to be who he thought I wanted him to. 


The more he changed, the more I fucked him, the less I liked him. The more I fucked him, the more he liked me.


Culminating in an "I love you". Resulting in me bailing, not returning his calls for a year. 


Repeat. For nine years. 


And out of the blue he got in touch.


I silenced the music by answering as I heard (s)Exs door click closed behind me. "Hello?" I asked. Pretending I didn't know who's call I was answering. It makes him crazier when I ignore him. 


He misses me, he's sorry he let it go so long, He wants to see me.


He thinks he's toughened up. Wednesday next week he wants to see me and show me. He threatened to cable tie me to his headboard so I will actually have to be there when he wakes up this time. Then he chuckled. Then he whispered throatily "Plus I wouldn't want you to be able to squirm away while I'm seeing how many fingers I can fit in you. And I don't just mean in your pussy."


I was a little surprised. It was far more forward than he'd ever been with me.


He whispered "I want to fuck you until you literally can't take any more. I want you to scream and scream and scream. And remember all those times that when you passed out I stopped. I won't this time. I'm going to keep going. Because when you come to, I want you to shake awake with orgasms."


He said he'd spent 10 years being too afraid to do the things he'd always wanted. And since I hadn't seen him in a couple of years, he now had the balls. He said he was ready to step up. 


I told him I didn't believe him. 


He said I'd beg him to let me have a break, if I could manage to through a gag.


It was a conversation that lasted for almost two hours. By the end, I'd had to use my panties shoved in my bag from my one night stand to clean up a mixture of the mess (s)Ex had made, and how wet I'd got from listening to all the promises. 


Next Wednesday. Fingers crossed.