Lending A Hand, Part 1 [MF] [Long]

Lending a Hand, Part 1 [MF] [Long]

Long-time reader, first-time poster. Hoping to make this a regular thing so long as people enjoy! Standard “good stuff starts here: _______” disclaimer applies.

(Upfront admission: this happened long enough ago that some aspects—a.k.a. dialogue—have gotten a little fuzzy. As such, I’ve taken a few liberties to make things read a bit more naturally. But rest assured, the recollections themselves are all true.)

I was in my senior year of university, and my course load was light. Being the go-getter that I am, I decided to get a job—specifically, one that would look good on my CV. After turning over a few rocks and talking to a few friends, I wound up getting a gig with the students’ union. Good work, cool people, and decent pay. What more could a 22-year-old want?

At first, I was sweet on one of the execs—a tall drink of “please sit on my face” named Tessa. Beyond being cute and easy to talk to, she was also the one I worked with the most. But after a couple of weeks, I found myself getting on really well with one of the other VP’s: a curvy redhead named Janice who was as bubbly as she was cool. Played in a band, told funny jokes, and rocked a delightfully tight and faded Velvet Underground t-shirt like it was going out of style.

Since I’d started at the end of May, most of the summer was spent planning the frosh week festivities: booking talent, organizing sponsors, signing up volunteers… that sorta thing. And all throughout, I continued doing my gosh darn best to endear myself to Tessa and Janice. I mean, why not, right? Worst case, I get two stellar references; best case… well, the jury was still out on that one.

September finally rolled around and frosh week went off without a hitch. By the time we got to the final day, everybody involved was buzzing from the combination of success, booze and drugs that had permeated the festivities. A B-level performer (reasonably popular amongst college students at the time) was our Friday night headliner, and man, I’ll tell ya: while some celebrities might be oversized knobheads, he was not. Genuinely great guy who was as nice off the stage as he was talented on it. I can say this with certainty because, after his performance was done and he and his band had helped us tear the stage down, he invited me, Tessa, Janice, and the rest of the team out to one of the bars to celebrate with him and the band. Awesome!

Fast-forward a couple of hours and there we are, drinking and chilling with some seriously cool dudes. Everybody’s having a great time. Out of nowhere, Tessa comes up and wraps her arms around me.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “I hope you know there’s no way we could’ve pulled this off without you.”

“Awww,” I said, returning her hug with one of my own. “It was an absolute pleasure. Working with you guys has been amazingly fun.”

You know how sometimes, even if you weren’t intending for anything to happen, things do? And oftentimes it’s the littlest thing that ends up being the difference between a best-night-ever kinda night an otherwise forgettable one? Tessa’s perfume was that thing. One moment we were hugging as friends. Then I breathed in. Instant erection. Now, I know it’s cliched to say on /r/gonewildstories at this point, but I am bigger than your average bear. By a fair bit, actually. And it didn’t take long for Tessa to figure that out, because by the time I was red in the face and stammering out an apology, she was waving it off as though it wasn’t a thing. We laughed, got another drink, and tried making small talk before deciding to head back to our table where everyone else was. Except right as we were about to turn the corner into the room they were in, Tessa grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bathroom.

She was on a mission. By the time I had both of my feet inside the single-occupant room, she’d already locked the door, set both of our drinks down on the sink, and started undoing my pants.

“Holy shit,” I said, doing my best to sum up the situation.

“This is what being a good guy gets you,” she said as she sunk to her knees and traced by cock from root to tip with her tongue. Then she smiled at me—just long enough for her eyes to tell me that this was going to be one to remember—and took as much of me into her mouth as she could.

My head fell back and my fingers tangled themselves in her hair, and it took everything I had in me not to cum right then and there. She was that good. Up and down, swirling around the top, playing with my balls: she knew exactly what she was doing and when to do it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groaned. She responded with a moan of her own.

I looked down to see the lower half of her face covered in saliva and pre-cum, her left hand cradling my balls, and her right hand tucked into the crotch of her jeans.

Game on.

I hauled her up off the floor and planted my lips on hers. Our first kiss was as sloppy as the blowjob had been, but easily twice as passionate. Our tongues slithered around one another and tied themselves into knots, and while they did, our hands did everything they could to keep me hard and her wet. After 20 or 30 seconds of the most intense kissing I’d experienced at that point in my life, she pulled back, looked me square in the eye and said, “Fuck me.”

The sink had just enough counter space for me to hoist her up and seat her on it. And as luck would have it, it was the absolute perfect height for fucking. So perfect that I didn’t even have to bend my knees as I eased myself into her for the first time.

“Oh fuck,” she said, grasping my head and pulling me into her neck as I went deeper. “Oh Jesus fuck. Go slow, go slow.”

I’m a big fan of purposeful thrusts. You feel more, they’re more sensual, and every amazing moment seems to last forever. So when Tessa begged me to go slow, I grabbed the back of her head, pulled her forehead into mine, and did just that. Innnnnnnnnnnnn and ooooooooooout. Innnnnnnnnnnn and ooooooooooout. After a couple of minutes of this, her pussy cream was all over my cock and all I could see were the whites of her eyes.

“Uh uh,” I said. “Look at me.”

Once she refocused her gaze, the biggest smile I’d ever seen immediately spread across her face.

“This is so fucking good,” she said. “I can’t believe how fucking good this feels.”

Innnnnnnnnnnnn and oooooooooout.

“I know,” I replied. “You have the most amazing pussy.”

“Oh my God. You’re so deep. I can't—oh God.”

“No, no. Look at me. Look me in the eye.”

“You are so fucking hot. This is so fucking hot. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“We are. You and me, fucking in a bathroom. My big cock sliding in and out of your tight, wet pussy. We’re fucking doing it, Tess. And it feels amazing.”

“Yeeesssss,” she moaned.

Despite being lost in the moment, I had the sense to realize that we’d been in there long enough for a decent line to have likely formed on the other side of the door. So I started thrusting faster.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

In and out in and out in and out in and out in and out.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she squealed. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Yes, baby. Yes,” I said. “I’m close, too.”

“Don’t you dare pull out.”

I didn’t. A few more strokes and she was squirming all over my rod, biting my shoulder and letting out the hottest, most adorable staccato squeals. That’s what put me over the edge. After a couple more strokes, I thrust into her as hard and deep as I could, bear hugged her with all my might, and came. Oh man, did I ever cum. I don’t recall how long my orgasm lasted, but I do remember that after we regained our senses, kissed a little and laughed a bit more, a stready stream of cum waterfalled out of Tessa’s red pussy as I pulled out.

“Well that was fun,” I said, pulling my pants up.

“Fun? That was fucking amazing!” she responded.

We spent a minute or two tidying ourselves and cleaning our puddle of fluids off the floor (what? We’re Canadian). When we were done, we agreed that she’d leave first, and that I’d follow a few seconds later, mile-high-club-style. Another quick kiss and she was out the door.

I looked myself in the mirror and smiled like an idiot before opening the door and stepping out. Luckily, there wasn’t a single person waiting to use the loo. Bonus.

Beer in hand, I rounded the corner and made my way toward our companions. Apparently we’d been in the bathroom longer than I thought, because despite having arrived with 15 or so people, there only appeared to be five or six left: our celebrity matchmaker/musician friend, a couple of his bandmates, Tessa, and Janice.

I took a seat opposite the girls and smiled at them before turning to the guest of honour. As much as I wanted to cozy up to Tessa and convince her to make round two a reality, I knew well enough to play it cool. For now. So instead, I fawned over Mr. Rockster. Now normally, I’d be hella excited to shoot the shit with the guy. I owned most of his albums and considered myself a genuine fan. But the more we talked, the more I felt eyes boring into me from the other side of the table. So the next time I took a sip of my pint, I casually looked across to see what was up.

Tessa, still wearing her biggest-ever smile, was chatting up the bass player. But Janice… was staring right at me.

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