Not My Type

I bet he fucks like a wild animal.

He's not my type, not by far. I normally go for pretty boys who work in offices and wear suits.

This man... his cheeks are too angular, his nose too big for his face, his long hair is greasy and hangs lank around his collar. He is dressed in a pair of jeans that are dirty and torn, held up by a pair of braces -- braces, for God's sake! -- and he looks like he needs a good scrub before I'd let him anywhere near my sofa, let alone my bed with its crisp white pillowcases.

Despite all that though, and despite the fact that I don't fancy him, of course I don't, there is a sheer sexuality in the way he moves. I have been on this boat trip for the past twenty minutes and I can't stop watching him. His sinewy arms bulge against his t-shirt as he effortlessly ties knots that I couldn't begin to decipher, his jeans are ripped across the thigh showing off the most tempting glimpse of pale flesh, and his deep-set scowl and moody demeanour makes me think he would be explosive in the bedroom.

I am subtly watching now as he bends over doing something with a piece of rope, and I can't stop fantasising about what his arse would look like out of his jeans.

I am wondering if he has a girlfriend, a wife... or if he's single.

I bet he'd be the type of guy to totally dominate a girl in bed... and although I totally, 100%, definitely don't fancy him, I can't stop myself imagining how he would kiss me... aggressively, I bet, his tongue finding mine and possessing my mouth, making me his. His hands would twist into my hair as he pulled me closer, I'd taste the salt from the sea on his lips as I kissed him back, standing on my tiptoes to reach, my hands roaming greedily over his back and that delicious pert arse.

He would grab my wrists, pinning them to my sides as he pushed his lean torso against mine, immobilising me against the side of the boat, his pelvis crunching almost painfully against mine as we kissed.

We would kiss hungrily, urgently, pushing against each other, hands clawing at each other's clothes, hearing the clatter as I unfastened his braces and the clips dropped to the floor, and pulling apart momentarily as I pulled his t-shirt up and over his head. He would undo my bra under my top with ruthless efficiency. He would dispose of my top and bra in one movement, cupping my breasts with his rough hands, twisting my nipples between calloused fingers. I would feel his hard-on push against my clit through our jeans, I'd groan as he thrust against me, feeling my back grinding painfully against the rough hull of the boat as his kisses moved to my neck, his teeth scraping lightly across the soft skin there.

He would undo the button on my jeans and slide a hand down into my thong, expertly finding my slippery clit and starting to rub it, lightly at first then building up pressure as my body yields to him, my breath coming in short gasps and my knees starts to shake.

Finally, at the point I couldn't take any more teasing, he would roughly thrust his finger inside me, opening up my soaking cunt and moaning as he explored my sodden, slippery pussy.

I'd push my jeans down over my arse, stepping out of them and spreading my legs wide as he moved my thong to the side, dropping to his knees.

Then he would kiss my shaven pussy, surprisingly gentle for such a coarse, physical man, and I would cry out as his tongue delved inside me to taste my flowing juices.

He would use his tongue and fingers skilfully, I knew from watching him with the knots he would have incredible technique, and it wouldn't be long before I felt myself writhing on his face, crying out and grinding my clit against his nose as he continued to eat my sopping cunt as he brought me to a shuddering, shaking orgasm.

Then he would turn me around, throw me angrily face down over one of the tables in the boat, and I would hear the soft rustle of him stepping out of his jeans -- he wouldn't be wearing boxers underneath -- an d feel his hands on my arse, spreading my arse cheeks wide.

I'd feel his tongue once more, licking hungrily from my wet pussy to my arsehole, and then I'd gasp suddenly as his tongue was replaced by a hard, thick cock, sliding into my cunt easily and stretching me wide. I would cry out as his hands grabbed my tits, pulling me back onto his cock and fucking me roughly, relentlessly. I would feel his fingers burning into my skin and he'd pull my hair just hard enough to hurt, yanking my head back so my breath came in short gasps as he plunged deep and fast inside me.

His balls would slap my clit, over and over, making me shiver with the delicious sensation and making my legs wobble dangerously as I fought to keep my balance, my tits bouncing on the cool surface of the table.

Without warning, he would pull out of me, slap my arse hard and turn me over, the hot handprint on my sensitive skin immediately soothed as he slid me further onto the cool table, grabbing my legs and hoisting them up onto his shoulders, grabbing my wrists again and pinning them against my head so I couldn't escape even if I wanted to.

Then, he would fuck me ruthlessly again. I would be bouncing helplessly like a ragdoll on his thick cock, held in place by his strong hands, my arms twisting above my head as he used me to get himself off.

I'd feel his dick plunging my cunt, our sweat mingling together between our bodies, and the telltale tightening as I felt myself approach orgasm again, my nails digging into my palms as my pussy spasmed around his cock, and I'd feel him fuck me even faster before grunting loudly as he shot hot spunk deep into my sopping cunt.

I'm not sure what would happen afterwards, he doesn't look like he would be the type to cuddle, perhaps he would watch me, his face impassive as I lay back and fingered my pussy, lazily circling my clit and dipping them inside me, before sucking our combined cum from my fingers. Perhaps the sight would get him hard again and ready for round two...

But as I say, I totally don't fancy him. He's just not my type. Although if he catches my eye, who knows what could happen?