The best fuck I never had

[Pure]

The best fuck I never had.

Writers, authors, aspiring talents. What you never see around here are narratives of desire.
Real life or fiction (I.e. 99.999% of stories posted).

There's always the fuck--satisfaction--and 20 synonyms for 'insert' and 'shove in.'

So let's stick to real life. Tell about the best fuck you never had**, and someone you did NOT have. Treat us. Put into words a real episode of flirtation, seduction, even fevered caresses, that did not consummate and sticks in your mind, years later. Try some synonyms for 'electricity' and 'desire', rather than for 'spasm' and 'copious.'

This should be fun!

PS: **for clarity, a fuck you did NOT have, that did NOT occur.

(I defer my submission for the time being.)

 

[TxRad]

Let's see here.

Are we talking about the tall buxom blond on the subway train that rubbed her ass against my raging hard-on for an hour and then walked off at her stop without so much as a backward glance.

Or maybe the gorgeous brunette at the nude beach that spent most of an afternoon laying on her stomach on a blanket with her legs spread. Her wet shiny pussy less than six feet from my drooling face. Ever so often, she would reach down under her belly and finger herself. Then to add insult to injury she would look over her shoulder and suck on the same finger .The whole time her idiot boyfriend sat next to her oblivious of the whole thing.

Shall I go on?

 

[sr71plt]

I'm not shy. I wrote it up and posted it--and it's part of a gussied up memoir I have in the market place and that is here in parts, Flying High. As I recall the title was "Ten Slash Two."

 

[Pure]

Party time

University party. The young wife of an older person, was striking, a brunette, with creamy skin. From Spain, with a wonderful accent that means sensuality to any anglo-irish person I've ever known.. Everyone including me was more than a little drunk. I asked her to dance, and during the slower songs, she pressed fully against me, with her shapely, apple size breasts and European perfume. I was shy about my soon aroused state, but she didn't seem to mind, indeed ground herself against me.

My body was raging in desire, and since it was a little dark, and most were drunk and hubby not in sight, I started to feel her breasts at the side. They were soft and she seemed to like it; she could sense my body running riot. There was fire in my blood. I soon just took one in each hand, a bit awkwardly, while staying close. my arms pressed between us. And I was trying to carry out the semblance of a dance. We came as close to a fuck as I knew how, leaving feet on the floor. The sweet torment continued, perhaps a hour. I knew pure desire, and felt her unabashed--fuck me here-- lust. My mind was carried off, incapable of rational thought

Others seemed not to pay us much attention, even though there were only 2-3 couples dancing. I managed to tear away from her towards the end and we agreed to talk the next day. I wanted her to come to my apartment, and she seemed ready to. Arrangements were made. Alas, she never showed up, and we hardly even spoke. I learned she acted that way, unabashed, licentious, with some others, and some had even managed to have sex with her, though not on the dance floor.

 

[CharleyH]

The best fuck I never had.

Writers, authors, aspiring talents. What you never see around here are narratives of desire.
Real life or fiction (I.e. 99.999% of stories posted).

There's always the fuck--satisfaction--and 20 synonyms for 'insert' and 'shove in.'

So let's stick to real life. Tell about the best fuck you never had, and someone you did NOT have. Treat us. Put into words a real episode of flirtation, seduction, even fevered caresses, that did not consummate and sticks in your mind, years later. Try some synonyms for 'electricity' and 'desire', rather than for 'spasm' and 'copious.'

This should be fun!

(I defer my submission for the time being.)

Hard to do, friend. My life has been described as a movie. The best fuck? Hard to say ... had many. I think the most frustrating experience I ever had was with this absolutely sexy Chinese girl. So gorgeous, so Haute. All she wanted to do was taste my pussy... all I wanted was to taste hers, but she wouldn't allow it ... she wanted to satisfy me each and every time we got together. It was frustrating ... and thats why I broke it off. I wanted, but she never let me taste her.

 

[sr71plt]

I thought the question was about the best fuck, not the best tease.

 

[Stella_Omega]

The night my partner brought home a beautiful, wonderful young woman and i left to see the woman i was obsessed with-- who was also some of the worst trouble i have ever had-- instead of staying put.

 

[R. Richard]

I met, under very unusual circumstances, a very pretty blonde girl. She had the kind of presence that a movie star has; when I would take her into a place, people would turn to look at her. (They weren't looking at me, I'm average at best.)

The girl was intelligent, but dumb and insane. She wouldn't fuck anyone who might be a husband candidate. She would fuck derelict boys, because no one would ever find out. (I told you she was dumb.)

I quickly tired of the game. However, I started to take her to places at the beach, where I then lived. The beach ladies began to wonder why an average looking guy could date 'the blonde bombshell.'

I took blondie home one night and there was a guy hiding back in her bedroom. I got the hell out and dumped blondie.

I was then able to make connections with some very hot beach babes. I was then able to catch up fuckingwise from my time with the best fuck I never had.

 

[harding]

I had a girlfriend a long time ago who was quite uptight, but kept talking about her best friend (female). Then one day she said, "Wouldn't it be fun to try a threesome? If I ask Jude around, what d'you think?"

So what do you think I said?

Regrets, I've had a few...

 

[CharleyH]

I thought the question was about the best fuck, not the best tease.

Best fuck? Well, fisting some one for the first time was a high.

Added ... it was a high, but making love to my man is a high every time.

 

[Verdad]

He was a contractor who did some stuff in my home. I spent three days alone with him, but nothing happened. No sex, and not even an open provocation.

Not that I wished to be subtle; by the time he was finished, I had just enough of subtlety left in me not to sit in his lap. I'd rehearsed an entire list of sleazy seductions, hunky repairman and lusty lady of the house style.

The trouble was, he wasn’t just a repairman to me. He was someone I hadn’t met in person before but who, due to certain connections, belonged high on my forbidden list. It would have been just as bad if I’d been caught brushing against him as if I’d simply invited him to the bedroom. There just was that jolt of pleasure that occurred the moment we shook hands—he had such a different vibe from what I’d imagined—and I could no more leave it unprobed than physicists could have left the atom unsplit, mass destruction be damned.

Thus the game of plausible deniability began, in which the answer to every question had to be no.

Was she flirty? No. Did she touch you? No. Make lots of eye contact? Nuh-huh. Doll up, wear revealing clothes? Of course not. By the end of the first day, I developed a veritable art of suggesting these things without doing them, and to my delight, he caught on fast. His fingers would not brush mine over a screwdriver, but they'd miss by a narrow margin, diverted visibly by an act of will. The man knew how to play—I began seriously to crave him.

The second day was worse. I had no doubt left he knew exactly what we were not doing. Any place I occupied—in the chair, on the table, against the wall—meant a position in which we could but would not fuck. The air became wet mortar and pheromone bath. Hours of work moved past in sexual reverie. I put on music, to give our minds somewhere to run away. Slow fucking beats exchanged with hard fucking beats; saxes cried desire. Because I’d avoided staring, his face hadn’t properly assembled in my mind—imperfectly handsome, light eye color?—yet I knew at all times the distance of his body, hard and lean in his dusty workman’s coveralls. His hands, long- and knotty-fingered, with too big, too square nails, appeared almost obscene as I watched them handle the tools. I learned the shape of those hands so well I could pick them out of any hand line-up, just as I learned the amount of deliberation it could take not to rub a shoulder or grab a butt and squeeze. It got so I thought of locking up in the bathroom and getting off just to clear my mind.

On the last day, he slipped up and touched me. A long, sensuous caress on my palm; heat followed in its wake. My fingers returned the touch, clinging to his as if reluctant to part; ridiculously, I’d reached the edge of orgasm. I busied myself instead, and he escaped to the other room. Excitement reverberated in the silence that set between us as the vocals drifted in from the radio: I’m So In-to You!

Later, we took a coffee break together and I felt him watch me across the table. I lifted the cup to my lips and returned his gaze at last. He didn’t flinch. His gaze roamed my face freely and I let mine do the same on his.

I found nothing on that face to put me off. No dullness, no smug calculation. We talked about money, and redecorating, and the bloody recession, and the sound of my voice came to me reassuringly unchanged, yet I felt myself slipping away. The conversation subroutine detached from me even as it rattled on. His eyes were green. I sat there naked-faced and stared in them.

A funny thing happened, then. We began smirking, then laughing. The secret out, it was either laugh or tear each other’s clothes off, and so we laughed. We laughed in defeat, in embarrassment, in admission of being caught, and because it was all just too funny.

The tension receded to bearable levels and he returned to work, but I knew with brilliant clarity I didn’t have sufficient will power to be alone with him and not cross the line. While my mind still functioned in the higher mode, I picked up the phone and called in some company.

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

In high school. My sweethearts mom. She had the hots for me, was always dropping hints, and pawing me. But totally unavailable.

After the mom died I called my old flame who told me, MY MOM SURE LIKED YOU.

At our high school graduation my dad and uncles got a look at mom and said, JIMBO! DROP THE DAUGHTER AND GO FOR MOMMA!

 

[TE999]

When I was in college I dated a girl who loved dry humping anytime and anywhere including the movies, dark corners, stairwells and the like. I even fingered her once or twice but we never bumped uglies and I never even got a hand job. She was a gorgeous blonde and seductive as hell which is why I put up with that crap until I got tired of her being the only one who ever got off.

So much for the 'never had'.


I then began dating a rather plain girl in my Geology class who was very sweet and, as it turned out, was a veritable volcano of barely suppressed lust. We had an infinitely more satisfying relationship that lasted over two years until she flunked out and went back home.

 

[The_Fool]

No matter what my sig says, I'm still a virgin...

 

[TxRad]

No matter what my sig says, I'm still a virgin...

The wife and kids will be surprised by that.

 

[The_Fool]

The wife and kids will be surprised by that.

C'mon. work with me here. surely someone will be convinced. hopefully female.

 

[kimbalee]

C'mon. work with me here. surely someone will be convinced. hopefully female.

ummm... well... if I'm not convinced... what are the odds anyone else will be? have to admit I can be gullible, but, I'm pretty sure you're fibbing about that one.

 

[The_Fool]

ummm... well... if I'm not convinced... what are the odds anyone else will be? have to admit I can be gullible, but, I'm pretty sure you're fibbing about that one.

*heavy sigh*

 

[kimbalee]

*heavy sigh*

it was a good "story" though, even if succinct. and totally false.

 

[The_Fool]

it was a good "story" though, even if succinct. and totally false.

Okay so I have to rebound.


She came to my room wearing a silk shirt and stockings under her raincoat. Wait, that one is true. She woke me with the paper, fresh coffee and her mouth upon my sex. No, that one true as well. I held her modesty in my hand upon that beach. Wait...I held her sex upon that beach with fingers sliding inside. *sigh* Okay, I have lots of ideas for lovers I've never had. I'll have to work work on it.