Can I come on your face?

A true story.

“Natasha, you’re about to make me cum”, he explains.

She let out a long, exaggerated moan. One that the hotel neighbors, fellow coworkers, could hear if they were paying attention. She’ll take her chances.

“Can I cum on your face?”, he asks, in a gentle French accent. She stares back at his innocent, eager eyes.

His right hand has a grip around her neck, light enough so she can still breathe, but tight enough to make the words muffled as they come out.

“Why?”, she whispers.

He looks down at her untamed curly dark brown hair spread across the sheets, spread like her legs are resting on his lean shoulders.

Not expecting her response, his expression changes. A look he might have made when he heard his mom coming up the stairs towards his room as he was masturbating to ménage à trois porn when he was 16.

She’s a little dizzy from the vodka sodas with extra vodka she’s downed tonight. And she’s ready to get off…to bed.

The uncertainty in his eyes tells her the answer, “No, but you can cum on my tits,” she replies.

He looks both disappointed and relieved as he hasn’t yet learned to trust his aim. If only he know what her 7 additional years around the sun have taught her….he’s only 25, he still has time to leave his mark.

He thrusts one more time inside her and lets out a groan, squirting across her small round breasts and silk pillow, with a droplet of two resting where his hand was around her neck.

“Sorry”, he says.

She’s not sure why he’s apologizing. That he asked to cum on her face? That he left evidence on the pillow for the hotel maid? That she had to fake an orgasm? She’s pretty sure he couldn’t tell the difference.

She rolls over on her side, dizzy and thirsty for sleep. For a bath to rinse off his sweat. For another drop of vodka if it helps stop her splitting headache. Or the guilt she feels for sleeping with a junior employee.

She glances at the only glowing red light in the room, it read 5 A.M. He notices and springs up, “I should go before I get caught”. he says as he kisses her sloppily across her visage and scrambles to get dressed.

Although she enjoyed his naive enthusiasm and the thrill of the forbidden encounter, it wasn’t enough to titillate her. She was looking for a more assertive man — A Don Draper type — she thought to herself.

No more amateurs, she decides.

 

Three weeks later,

“Natasha, your pussy is so fucking tight. I really want to cum on your face. Can I?”, he asks as he stares back at her green eyes, with the same reflection of his own.

She grabs onto his naturally tan, muscular arms that have been holding her up for what feels like hours as he’s mechanically thrust in and out of her, putting the energizer bunny to shame.

He notices her hesitation and rests her back on the edge of the bed, while he remains standing. His momentum speeds up, as he’s trying to race to the finish line before she can let out another word.

“Why do you want to cum on my face?” she asks even though she knows this isn’t the time for Q&A.

He laughs, almost condescendingly, while trying his damndest to make it rain. He notices her pierced lips, her inquisitive eyes, and realizes she’s seriously waiting for a response.

“I don’t know…it’s just hot,” he replies.

She’s well aware this isn’t his first pilgrimage. His twelve years her senior barely shows, for he’s blessed with Peruvian ancestors, who knew how to take a trail, lay down the groundwork, and sow what they reap.

At this point, she’s already come. She doesn’t care if he comes on her face or not but with the lack of substance in his words get to her.

She answers defiantly, “No, but you can cum on my stomach”. She looks into his eyes, the ones debating if they should obey.

“You’re no fun” he laughs while ripping off the condom. His hands around his shaft, one pump, two pumps, three, as he builds a small mini pool on her abs, that fills up her belly button, and stream down her sides.

He looks down satisfied with his masterpiece. As if he just created wine out of holy water. At that point, she would love a glass. “Do you need a towel?” he asks?

She nods and walks off the bathroom to clean up the hot sticky mess now falling down her leg. It’s their third rendez-vous together, and she knows it will be the last.

She doesn’t like the way his sweat tickles her nose. Or the feeling of emptiness that juxtaposed the flood she just witnessed.

She can’t avoid the reality of the situation, she wants something more. Ambition, direction, passion. Someone who knew what they were after and why — A Batman anti-hero she thought to herself.

No more dating app hook-ups, she decides.

 

The following morning,

Natasha jumps on the phone with her best friend, Anna.

“Hey, I’m curious, have you ever been asked by a guy to cum on your face? Recently, it’s come up twice. Pun intended.”

“Maybe once, a while ago…you must just have a very cumable face”, Anna responds. They both laugh.

Natasha ponders this a moment longer, looking in the mirror for a clue. Her skin is flawless, porcelain but not pale, with a feminine jawline, and arched eyebrows shaping her blueish-green translucent eyes that bring to life her dichotomy. She oozes innocence, while her eyes beg for foul play.

Must be coincidence, she decides.

 

Three months later,

“Wait for me here. On your hands and knees”, he directs, as he disappears into the other room.

She obeys while her mind turns to the inescapable stir between her legs. She takes a finger and touches herself, a gentle graze across her pussy up to her clit as a trail of her anticipation trickles down her inner thigh.

Three minutes later, he returns wearing only his jeans resting dangerously low across his perfectly muscular abdomen. His belt is undone, his hair is disheveled. He’s holding a glass of bourbon, neat.

He’s much taller than her. Much darker as well. His intelligent sharp, dark brown eyes inform her he’s thirsty — the same gaze that intoxicated her the night they met at that seedy bar on the Lower East Side.

He kneels down to her level and puts a finger beneath her jaw, and tilts her head back, kissing her passionately. His tongue dancing at the edge of her mouth, as he gently bites her lower lip. Her muscles tighten foreshadowing his next move.

He pulls away and moves behind her. She can feel his hand gently caress her ass as he goes in to survey the damage. His fingers come up glistening.

She turns her head back towards him as she feels a large hand slap her right ass cheek. While it’s still stinging he goes in for another one. He bites his lower lip, as his hands move to her hips.

Subconsciously, she lifts her ass up a little higher, inching to make contact with the head of his hard cock. Reading her mind, he asserts, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you in a moment.”

He reaches an arm around her waist and tickles her clit. She lets out a moan, and he stops while taking the tip of his cock and teasing her pleading pussy.

He grabs her thin ankles, and slowly eases his cock into her. Shallow thrusts, building into deeper ones. She can barely move as he’s got a firm grip on her torso, but the rhythm of his movements pulse her with pleasure. Her tight pussy accommodates. She screams out in ecstasy as he grabs a handful of her luscious curls and beats faster.

As she feels he too is about to cum he surprises her by pulling out and flipping her around so her elbows are leaning up against the cold marble floors of his living room.

“I’m going to cum on you”, he declares.

She doesn’t negotiate with his certainty. He slips his thumb into her mouth and strokes his cock once as he lets out a deep grunt while showering down on her doll-like face, only sparing her hair.

She opens her mouth and wraps it around him, to savor the last of it. She feels the warm liquid fill her mouth. The sweet indecent smell of her atoms and his titillating her nostrils.

Third times the charm. Though she knows it’s more than that. His eyes filled her up with his intent, not the emptiness of a borrowed fantasy.

He had his money shot but the real victory was hers. She felt rich waiting for the right moment in the face of all the beggars before him.

This is what she was looking for, she decides. Someone who owns their reasons why, in and out of the bedroom.

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