This fabulous true story about fucking his hand is written by Charlotte Bayes and read as audio by Sherryl Blu. This is part 2, so catch up on part 1 – primed to fuck – if you want them in order. Note that this story contains consensual choking and rough sex.
Last week I missed my writing appointment. I rarely feel guilty about missing a commitment as I have very few morals and no conscience. But I did genuinely feel bad about it as I have come to really love spilling my guts to you about all my Dick Appointments, and going into detail about how I used to shove mascara wands up my fanny.
The reason for the lack of a post was that Shoegaze Dude and me were due a date (catch up with the first ShoeGaze Dude date here). Much like everyone I meet or speak to there is always a weird living situation from at least one party. Things I have encountered have been: Living with your ex, living with your parents, living in an abandoned office, living between 3 different flats like musical chairs, ‘I only have a bunk bed’ and – somehow the worst – ‘I only have a mattress on the floor and no duvet’. Shoegaze Dude was unable to have me at his and I was unable to have him at mine for legitimate reasons, but we needed to see each other again.
I am an enthusiastic texter. I like to message people a lot and there wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm from Shoegaze Dude since our first meet. I thought that maybe I had been too much for him. Or maybe an ill-advised tongue-in-cheek message about ice lollies and my vagina had been lost in text tone translation. So I asked him outright what was up. He was the person I messaged the least in my non archived WhatsApp list. I actively withheld from telling him the banal shit about my day. He told me that he wasn’t expecting as much chat from me as he was receiving. AS MUCH! I told him that this was me holding back and that he was the person I genuinely messaged the least. He told me I was the person he messaged the most. This seemed to resolve the expectations we had.
I am now very zen with knowing that some men simply do not like to message and this has no bearing on how much they like or dislike you. Not that into you? Absolutely fucking not, they just don’t think about things like messaging constantly. Same as the way some men don’t see little of piles of shit we leave them to take up on the stairs, or dust. Their minds are somewhere else and as soon as that clicked for me, neurosis got somewhat easier. Somewhat.
Shoegaze Dude was in fact so insistent on meeting up for a shag that he booked us a swanky hotel in Covent Garden and promised me takeout Mexican (my favourite). It might shock you to know that I love to be extremely anxious at all times of the day, especially travelling somewhere unknown, carrying heavy luggage. Shoegaze Dude knows this and is so perfect at mitigating my concerns that when I messaged about having a meltdown, he simply solved everything.
Feeling about 5% more relaxed and cursing the fact that the second round of botox in my forehead to stop the sweating still hadn’t kicked in, I burst into the hotel reception past the bloke with the temperature gun and just yelled out the room number. Behaving like a person who had never been in a hotel, or in fact public before. Because it was so swanky, the receptionist said ‘Ah we have been expecting you!’ although I highly doubt that she was expecting a large towering sweaty woman with pink hair and matching pink mask screeching room numbers with a voice like an Eastenders extra at her.
The room was nice, but I didn’t really get to notice it as Shoegaze Dude was already there, on the bed. In my opinion after the first meet and you get on, fuck polite pretences. So I flopped down on to the bed and just nuzzled into him, and he cuddled me back, no awkwardness, no miscommunication, just familiarity. He reminded me that the Mexican closed soon so I sighed and went to get up, but he told me to stay where I was and he would get me everything I wanted plus snacks. There is something to be said for dating someone who doesn’t sleep on a mattress on the floor.
He wasn’t gone long and all I could think about was the fucking burrito. He put the bag down and I practically leapt towards it, but he pushed me back against the wall and told me that I had to cum first. Not much gets in the way of me and food. I was furious. I was also concerned at how cold it was going to be. I was also wearing fake fat Yucy & Lak dungarees and my Fenty sports bra and nothing else, so it would be faff to take them off and on again. I held all this inside my head and just protested in my bratty voice about the burrito.
He shoved me harder and kept me against the wall with one hand, then pulled up the material of the legs with the other and finger fucked me. I knew I had to cum hard and fast here, he found my G Spot with ease and I could feel my legs start to go beneath me so I leaned my head into his shoulder and fucked his hand back. I was so wet and I knew if I concentrated hard enough I would be able to have a low level G Spot orgasm, the kind where he would feel my pussy clench around his fingers and release after the rumbly waves went through my legs and up my stomach. I wanted to lie down but I couldn’t speak properly so I just moaned into him, fucking his hand back harder, building it up. My clit throbbed but I just concentrated on climaxing. I managed to mumble out ‘I am cumming’, but he felt it. Then wiped all my cum on my dungarees. I realised they were the only thing I had packed. FFS.
We sat down and ate the burrito and I was still in that post-orgasm silence. Shoegaze Dude asked if there was something wrong. I think people don’t or can’t believe that I am ever quiet, but I am probably silent about 85% of the day. I like peace and solitude, simply because people are fucking irritating. I like messaging people instead of voice noting or calling for this very reason. However it only took me 10 minutes to slide back into myself and start talking in depth about burritos and that the snacks he had bought did not include any chocolate.
I went to lay down on the bed again, but he told me to take off my clothes and bend over the bed. I did as I was told. My feet were on the floor and the rest of me was face down in the bed, hands over my head. There was a wall behind us and my feet slid against the wall, wedging me in position as he fucked me. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep still enough for him, but he held on to me so tight and I pushed back with my feet that he went even deeper inside of me. I was so loud because it felt so raw and spontaneous. I hadn’t even got on the bed properly. I was wedged in, being fucked and used and it didn’t really matter if I was hanging on or not.
When he finished I slid off the bed and onto the floor in a heap, pleased that I had done my job and absolutely fucked from keeping still the entire time. He ordered me back on to the bed. I protested as I was quite comfy but he ordered me again. I always find it a strange juxtaposition when someone isn’t an arsehole Dom all the time but in fact a very reassuring and caring person. He told me to stay there again and that he would be back with chocolate. He asked me what would happen if there wasn’t White Chocolate Kinder Buenos and Maltesers. We made a backup plan of buttons and milky bars, but he made good on the Buenos and even came back with my favourite fizzy water from Tesco.
He rolled me over on to my front and told me to close my eyes. I fucking hate surprises. But a man who has bought me a burrito and Buenos deserves a less bratty sub so I did it. I felt cold oil on my back and then – can you believe it? – he gave me a massage. Not a pussy, fumbling one by a boyfriend who is more likely to pinch your sciatic nerve, but an honest to god pro one. I made noises that you are not allowed to make when having a professional massage. I let myself get turned on and wet, so when he flipped me over to make me cum again I was ready.
He teased my hole again, not putting his fingers inside me, but I wanted it so badly this time I begged, then he played with my clit and I held his hand there and fucked his hand back as I was so desperate to cum, and without any warning I squirted. I lay there a fucking mess.
I let Shoegaze Dude put a film on and within ten minutes he was playing with me again. I didn’t protest. This time was more intense, felt different, I kept asking him what he was doing that was different and he denied anything! I kept coming up and down, the build up was so intense it felt like one long second orgasm, so close to the edge. I asked him again what he was doing different and he just said that he was just responding to my body. I couldn’t cum it was too much. I begged him to fuck me again. He pushed me over on my side in a spoon position, and bent my arm up behind my back and fucked me deep. He used his other hand around my throat and I squeezed around his dick the harder he choked me. I knew he wouldn’t take long to finish because the intensity that he was fucking me was so hard, I felt him twitch inside me. I cannot explain how much I get off on feeling someone finish inside me, and when they make noises too. Smug.
It was 11.30pm. We both fell asleep quickly, absolutely fucked. When I woke up I begged for more sex but he was gone by 8am with strict instructions that I should write my new Dick Appointment ASAP.
So here you go, better late than never.
If you enjoyed this, check out more of Charlotte Bayes’ work at DickAppointments.Substack.com, find more of Sherryl at SherrylsWorld.com, and head to the free audio porn hub for more hot stories read aloud.