Satisfaction - An Ofs Story Pt. 01

Introductory note:

The following story features an ongoing character, OFS (Our Favorite Slut), who also appears in "Teamwork: A Gangbang Trilogy," "Tanya Krawczyk," "One Week," "Video Party," and "Jeet."

Reading those stories is not essential to understanding "Satisfaction," though Part 2 will refer back to "Teamwork." If you enjoy this one, you may enjoy the others as well. If you've read them already, thank you for continuing to follow my work.

- The Author

SATISFACTION - AN OFS STORY, PART 1: DANIELLE

Last night was the night of the [Rock Band redacted] concert at [Off-Campus Dive Bar redacted]. I had a rare night where I didn't have much to do, so I went.

Yes, I'm one of those dorky college professors who goes to events that are mostly for students. So what?

I got a little tipsy and started chatting up a junior in line for women's bathroom during the show. I was pretty sure I recognized her from one of my colleague's survey courses.

I don't think she recognized me, and I didn't say anything.

She was cute, blonde, short, luxuriously big-titted, and a little bit chubby. She wore a short skirt and a cropped band shirt that was a little too perfectly distressed.

I felt only a little out of place in my high-waisted jeans and non-distressed cropped band shirt.

I was pretty turned on-partly because she was hot, partly because sexual fantasies about her were tumbling through my head and I wasn't making any particular effort to stop them.

She was turned on, too, as it turned out. One thing led to another. We ended up in the lone bathroom stall together.

It didn't have a door. It had a curtain, which left no noise to the imagination.

We made out ferociously, our mouths quickly becoming saturated with commingled saliva. I squeezed her against my breasts like a rag doll. I could feel her small hands roaming over my big ass.

I greedily inhaled her scent through my nose while our tongues touched. She smelled like sickly sweet hair product and sweat. She was an aggressive kisser.

Our lips parted, briefly connected with a strand of spit.

She said, almost too quietly to hear, "What do we do?"

I said, "Get your foot up. On the toilet seat."

She did as she was told. With her leg up, her skirt rode up a little on her big hips, almost exposing herself.

I said, "I'm going to finger you."

She stared at me, looking expectant but not saying anything.

I said, "You'll have to tell me if it's okay or not."

She said, "Please. I want it."

I grabbed a glove out of my bag, put it on, smeared it with a little bit of lubricant, and reached under her skirt. She had no panties on. Nothing but the skirt between her and the world.

My nitrile-clad fingertips grazed her mound, finding sparse curls of hair.

Helpfully, she lifted her the front of her skirt. She bunched it up in both hands and held it up in front of her soft belly. Her thighs were milky white; her pubic hair almost black in the harsh bathroom light.

I slid a finger in between her labia, probing the outer vestibule of her vagina. She was hot and slick; the nitrile came away wetter than when it went in.

"Put your hands on me," I instructed her.

She put her hands over my shoulders in a sort of loose hug. I reached around with my ungloved hand, put it on her ass, and gently pulled her hips forward a little.

Holding her nice and steady, I slipped two fingers all the way into her vagina. She was wet and warm, impossibly soft. I wrapped my thumb over her mound, taking care to avoid her clitoris.

I didn't pound her like a piston-I shook her, in a short, staccato up-and-down that originated from my elbow, keeping my hand anchored to her. The sharp movements sent ripples through her fleshy legs.

Her head drooped. She was breathing heavily through her mouth. Her fingertips dug into my shoulders.

I wanted to inhale through my nose, to smell her hair and her breath and her delicious pussy smell that was no doubt wafting through the air.

But this was a dive bathroom. Smell at your own risk.

I kept up the pace, finger-fucking her hard and fast, my thumb making tiny movements closer to her clitoris. The closer it got, the more directly the vibrations hit her.

She was becoming unsteady on her feet. I held her more firmly with my hand on her ass. Her head remained down.

"Are you watching?" I breathed in her ear.

She nodded limply.

"Good," I said, and fucked her harder, curling my fingertips inward towards the inner front of her vagina. My hand was like a pincer, clamping her by her thickly padded pubic bone.

Her hips locked. Her ass was warm and sweating.

Then she lifted her head. Her eyes were closed and her lips were making a silent "ooh"-a literal "O" face.

She started moaning. Having no free hands, I kissed her, my mouth covering hers, muting the sound she made as she came. Her pussy gripped my fingers; her hips rocked in an instinctive rhythm.

After about a minute, when her orgasm had subsided enough for her to stand on her own two feet, I released her.

I looked down at my hand. My fingers were gooey with cum.

By now, my pussy was glowing with heat.

I thought to myself, god, I could fuck every last person in this bar.

We exited, sweaty and frizzy, to a long line of rocker chicks with cheap beers and cocktails in their hands. Some tipped their drinks in mock-salute.

Mostly, they just stared as we passed by. Ostentatiously, I removed the glove with a snap and chucked it in the overflowing waste bin.

I had wanted to take her out to the parking lot and really get down to business, or at least get her number. But I lost her at some point and I couldn't find her again.

Okay, Plan B.

I found someone else to chat up: a queerish-looking guy with swooped hair and a lip ring. I was hitting on him, none too subtly, and he seemed to be into it.

He'd drained his drink. He told me he'd be right back and disappeared into the crowd.

After he'd been gone long enough for me to lose the slight buzz I had going, I forgot about him. I struck up a conversation with the tall, thin enby bartender instead. They were about grad student age.

"When do you get off?" I said, shouting conversationally over the music.

"Five minutes," they shouted back.

I nodded, grateful that they hadn't noticed my terrible joke.

Five minutes later, we were in the rear parking lot. I noticed Swoop Hair Guy in a van nearby, getting high with his friends. I paid him no mind.

The bartender said, "I'm Danielle."

"I'm [OFS's Name Redacted]," I said.

We chatted casually, I don't remember what about. Danielle had me mesmerized.

They were maybe six feet tall, wearing thigh-high boots that made them even taller. Black denim shorts cut off obscenely high, suspenders, striped black and white t-shirt cropped to the bottoms of their tits.

Danielle's hair was undercut. They wore the top long, combed over one side.

Their style was my kryptonite.

I badly wanted to fuck them.

As we chatted, I speculated that they had a whole closet full of clothes that were cropped short enough to break the law in most cities.

I imagined Danielle giving me an all-cropped fashion show, complete with robing and disrobing.

I took Danielle home in my car-an all-wheel drive station wagon, naturally. We chatted amiably about I don't know what.

When we got to my place, we shut up and went straight to my bed.

They sat on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to them. I sat down and they fell into my arms.

Their kissing style was insistent, almost bitey, their tongue strong and battle-hardened.

We made out for a while. I got them out of their shirt and suspenders, down to their padded purple bra. I got my fingers into the back of the bra, poised to work the hooks loose.

"May I?" I whispered.

They nodded.

With the slightest pinch, I sprung the bra open like a trap. They let it slide off their arms to the floor, revealing cute little tits with almost invisible areolas.

(When you get around enough, you learn the most efficient ways to remove people's clothing. Not to mention, the coolest. I feel pretty slick every time I do this.)

They hooked their long, slender fingers under the unhemmed edge of my cropped t-shirt.

"May I?" they said, grinning as they mimicked me.

"You'd better," I said, raising my arms.

They lifted the shirt, hooking my sports bra along the way. In one smooth motion, they rendered me topless. My tits tumbled out, one after the other, as if confused by their sudden exposure to open air.

Damn. Danielle's got skills, too.

They unzipped their big boots and their little shorts and lied back on the bed. I availed myself of their offer-sliding the boots loose, then the shorts and the heather gray men's boxer-briefs.

Their body was long and slender, with a small pouch of fat at the base of their tummy. I savored the experience, taking my time as I slid garment after garment down their legs to the floor.

They had naturally hairless labia, but their pubis was thick with ringlets of strawberry blonde hair. It matched the roots of the much blonder hair on their head.

They watched avidly as I shucked my jeans and my panties as quickly as I could. Then I crawled onto the bed on top of them, my dangling tits and belly brushing theirs.

We kissed some more. Their mouth raided my mouth, neck, and earlobes so aggressively, it was almost like they were topping me from the bottom with their tongue.

When we both paused to breathe, they asked, "Can I ask you for something?"

"Anything," I said.

"Do you have any nipple toys?"

I bristled, and sat upright, astride her hips. "I do, but they're not really for me."

"Just for me," they said.

I climbed over them, leaned over the other edge of the bed, getting into my sex toy drawer.

I rattled off the choices. "I have weights, heavy clamps, light clamps, clothes pins, a few different sizes of bulb suckers, some corkscrew suckers..."

From behind, I heard them laugh and say, "The light clamps."

I retrieved the light clamps-little rubber-coated gator mouth assemblies, decorated with colorful feathers-and returned to my pale, tall beauty, who was half-reclining on an elbow.

I knelt above them.

"Shall I?" I said, holding the clamps half-open in my hands.

"Yes," they say.

They pinched and tweaked their nipples with their thumb and forefinger, getting them to stand out from their areolas. I carefully affixed a feathered clamp to each one. They quickly began to darken.

"Oh," they breathed softly, their eyes half-lidded.

"You like nipple play?" I asked.

They nodded. "It's not that it makes me come or anything, but it's an enhancement. It makes everything a little bit better."

I nodded in return. "I freak the fuck out if anyone touches my nipples. At least, until we've been at it for a while and my tits can finally do their job properly."

Sensing the lull, I went with my tried-and-true method of just bluntly telling them what I wanted.

"I'd like to eat your pussy. Why don't you lie back and spread your legs?"

They nodded gratefully and did as I suggested, spreading their knees before me, their pale pink inner labia peeking out. The feathers atop their nipples pointed slightly askew towards the ceiling.

I reached over the side of the bed, grabbed a dental dam out of my sex toy kit, and returned to Danielle on all fours. I leaned in, my back arched downward in a cat stretch.

I placed the dam on their vulva and teased their labia apart through the nitrile, feeling a pleasant warmth just on the other side.

I'd been daydreaming of Danielle's pussy ever since I first saw them, standing behind the bar-daydreaming of doing this to them.

I took my first few tentative licks, up and down their labia. From way at the other end of their long torso, I heard them sigh.

Danielle was a puzzle. I used all my typical strategies, applying different rhythms and pressures, varying degrees of closeness to their clitoral hood.

At one point, they took the clamps off their nipples, which by now were hard and red and beautiful, and beckoned me to touch them. I did, gladly, reaching up and battering them gently with my fingertips.

On and off, I'd reckon I ate their pussy for over an hour, pausing only to lavish kisses, do a little finger-stroking, and generally give my tongue a break.

My chin was soaked in saliva, my tongue was sore, and Danielle didn't seem to be any closer to orgasm.

But they seemed to be enjoying it, They cooed and squirmed and sighed with gratitude.

I lifted my head. "How are we doing?" I asked.

They sighed with contentment and said, "We're doing great."

I suppressed an exasperated sigh and started lowering my head, ready to stop at nothing to bring this beautiful conundrum to orgasm.

But they stopped me.

"Want me to return the favor?" they whispered, their voice low and husky.

I answered by grabbing a dam and passing it to them.

I rearranged my body, lying on my back and opening my legs. They laid their slender body on top of mine, their hips between my knees, their belly on my bush. They embraced me, looking into my eyes.

I don't normally get romantic, but they made me feel all sweet inside.

Which, to be fair, came in the form of my pussy getting oozing wet. The smell was palpable, immediately intoxicating, filling my head like thick cotton.

Danielle kissed me on the mouth, hot, wet, and spitty. Leaving a trail down my chin, they moved away from my face, down to my chest, not breaking eye contact.

They were eye level with my tits.

"I've so been wanting to play with these," they murmured, as if talking to my tits more than myself.

"I think I can take it by now," I said, not quite believing it.

They got eye-to-eye with my left breast and took the big hard nipple into their mouth, initially just putting their lips around it and letting it get wet. I gasped sharply.

It was a lot. But it wasn't too much.

They cupped my right breast in one hand, avoiding the nipple, just stroking the fat brown flesh. More for their pleasure than mine, I reckoned, but that's okay.

Sex is so sensory, sometimes you just want to touch something soft.

Once my nipple was thoroughly wet and warm and about twice as hard as before, they began suckling it, very gently, sending waves of intense pleasure through my breast.

I kept waiting for it to be too much, to get to the point where I had to pull their head away and take a break.

But it never got to that point. Danielle monitored their attentions to me expertly, suckling, pulling, even lightly biting a few times.

When I was cruising on a cloud of nipple stimulation, they switched to the other one. Their fingers played with my newly fortified left nipple as they methodically suckled the right one.

It was delicious. It was awesome. It was torture.

I knew Danielle was taking a pit stop on their inevitable journey to my sopping, aching pussy, but I was starting to worry that I might spontaneously combust before they got there.

Both my tits, my fingers, my toes, the hot place at the core of my belly, all of it hummed and thrummed and tingled, my whole system activated like a tongue coated in spices.

By the time Danielle relinquished my tits and moved downward, I was sweating profusely. The climate in my crotch was positively tropical.

At least my nipples were cool. Slathered in evaporating saliva, they picked up a cold chill from the air. It contrasted with Danielles hot mouth covering my belly in wet, sucking kisses.

They paused above my pussy, letting me marinate in suspense. Looking up, locking eyes with me again.

They laid the dam across me.

"Watch," they said.

TO BE CONCLUDED