Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Random Encounters part 1 James WF Roberts

True erotic short story that occurred last Monday night.
Random Encounters part 1
James WF Roberts

Another lonely night and my thoughts are only of you, of her.  What do I call you now?
The tidal wave that had swallowed me up and left of me on the siren’s shore—that had thrown me to the all the devils and angels of life—what happens when the tidal wave recedes?  Met her at a bar. She kissed me shad pills on her tongue. I went wild.

Two MDMA pills, fucken awesome. She pulls out my dick in a dark area of the bar and then goes down on me. MDMA makes you very aggressive and very horny. She blew me and was playing with my balls and kissing them and running her tongue all of my shaft and my bag. In the dark I thought it was you again. No-one could see us in the darkness of the bar. I was on a high sold a few books did a good set on stage. Random strangers approached me and were fascinated by my words. My new words. Word they had never heard before. This was the first time in such a long time I was at this gig, this bar of poets and wanna-be stand up comedians, drag queens, male burlesque wrestlers, wanna-be poetry slammers and white boy-middle aged-wanna-be rappers.  But, was so lonely and miserable still thinking of her, not her anymore. It is just you.  So I let it happen. I noticed she had a wedding ring on—that made it all the more fantastic. I blew and she swallowed me. She drank of all of my cum down.

Still not so used to that sensation of being milked by a tongue and a jaw.   She kissed my ear and blew upon my lips like she used to do—and told me let’s get out of here my place aint’ too far. Apparently she has a thing for white orange men like me. We got in the cab and fooled around in the backseat, haven’t do ne for a while. Cab driver was an Indian woman. It was only a few blocks away. But the driver kept on driving around and around in circles. I noticed in between this girl straddling me and shoving her nipples in my mouth, that the driver had turned the meter off.  I didn’t think anything of it at the time.

 Fuck what was her name the girl taking me back to her place. Had we even spoken a word or two before she devoured my tongue?  The cab pulls up finally into the empty car park of the apartment building. We haven’t stopped fucking around. The girl is sitting on top of me her skirt is hiked up over hips. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.  The heat and moisture from her cunt was moving through my thigh and up to my groin. It didn’t take long for me to be inside her. We didn’t care we were in a cab all that mattered was the here and now. She wanted me to take her anally. I hadn’t down anal in  a car in a very, very long time, since a random married guy used to pick me up sometimes at the middle of the night and we would go to cemeteries, cross-roads, truck stops, building sites etc. and fuck each other raw. 

We would cum all over each other’s face and over our cocks positioning ourselves like one of has had cunt. Heady days back then. She had changed position. She was doing reverse cowgirl and I was in her arse.  Holding tight. Squeezing tight onto her tits as she bounced up and down. Her eyes were closed and all I could see was the back of her long flowing dark hair moving from side to side. All of a sudden she stiffened and squealed and I looked over her shoulder and there was the Indian female cab driver with two fingers inside the woman on top of me.  fuck I wish I knew their names. ‘ I don’t like girls. I just like cock”.  

The Driver didn’t care. “this is my cab. My rules. You wanna fuck. I join in or I call the cops”.  I had already tuned out of the conversation. I was about to blow again. I was about to spray all of myself inside her arse.  And watching the Indian woman’s head moving up and down from behind, looking at her reflection in the rear view mirror, then watching her tongue licking the Chinese woman’s thighs, and slowly biting her skin every inch or so, then finally impaling her tongue into the Chinese woman’s cunt fuck it was bliss. I was about to blow….I couldn’t hold it anymore. I told them I was about to cum and the Indian woman took charge. She order the Chinese woman off my cock and told her to keep milking me as she took of her blue trousers, she already  I had them half undone, and I guess she was rubbing herself while driving and watching us through the mirror I told the girls to both suck and nibble on my ear.

 The gateway to my brain. I was facing the Indian woman and she would switch off between my ear and my neck and then my mouth. Her glorious breasts were before my face now, her shirt open her bra around her midriff. And without word of order or command the Chinese woman started sucking and licking on the Indian woman’s’ tits. It was getting so close before I blew my load.  I couldn’t stop it and I told them I was about to blow  and the Indian woman slowly got off me and then they both kneeled before me in benediction and worship of my cock and were sucking and licking my cock and my balls alternatively.  I couldn’t resist any more they kept on saying cum on us cum on us cum on us cum on us and I did came over their faces and their tits and they licked it off each other.  It was just fucking. It was fucking awesome. But nothing compares to you in bed.  They take me to their home. Wow! What a fool I was. Some elaborate thrill seeking ride. Can’t remember what time it all was. We keep drinking at their house. And fuck and fool around some more.  I have to buy pills off them though. “pussy’s for free. Pills pay the rent’ how did I get into this situation. You always protected me from things like this. I watch the Chinese girl shoot up. She is puzzled how the ritual doesn't bother me or shock me. I am still masturbating her roommate and drinking a really cheap vodka at the same time.  Most drug dens never look like drug dens. And you were always right the women dealers can always keep under the radar. Especially the pretty ones. 

Or the Asian ones. Or the pretty Asian ones.  I light a cigarette. I buy some pills and swallow them. They don’t make me feel up anymore.  They make me feel so low. My phone battery’s almost dead. I take the Indian woman from behind while she dines out on her naked housemate. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Condition. Then dry.  It’s been hours now together—I don’t ask their names. They don’t ask mine. First time in a month been able to talk to women without your name coming up. Ce’st le vie. I guess. Ce’st le vie.  They told me of their scam. How they liked playing roles. How they liked trapping white men. I guess psychological bondage and forced sexuality on a male by two women is almost the same as a gang/pack rape physically of a woman. Where does one draw the line?  They don’t want my name. I really don’t want theirs. I can barely remember the address, all I know it’s in South Yarra. Funny how a suburb you go through, or have to been, only on their high street or main entertainment strips, seem so foreign, so indecipherable in their laneways and design when you’re trying to work out your escape at about four in the morning.

  Lunch only a few hours ago, random encounter with a man I barely know. Blow job and circle jerk in the men’s room of the Young and Jackson pub opposite Flinder’s Street, do you remember when you devoured my tongue in the lush leather seats. But fuck that seems like a lifetime ago—when we became one, though we are not the same.  I light a cigarette and watch these two girls, these two women playing on the bed. Why do I find this so fucking boring?  Maybe because I am high and this novelty barely registers on my list of accomplishments anymore. I know what they want out of me. I know they want a customer or a courier. They fall asleep and I walk out the door. They won’t miss me. Back in the city. It’s Monday night,  Tuesday morning and I can’t seem to find solace anywhere.  Laptop in its bag across my back, I am top heavy as I stand on Queen’s bridge…no-one knows I am hear….maybe I should just jump.  But who would miss me in the end. Is life just a series of random encounters? Why doesn’t anyone, why does nothing compare to you? What made me so depressed at the end of this glorious, glorious night. Oh yes…I heard the Chinese girl’s name, it is your name. Every fucking woman I meet, I have met for the last two months has your name. God hates me, I know it now. But, why don’t I jump? 

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