"We are Asians. Use a rice cup,” I said.
“I’m thinking of spending my whole week cumming as much as I can. My roommate is leaving for Korea tomorrow,” S said. “I’m going to be naked and hard all day. Going to try and have more orgasms than you.”
“Omg. Streaking. I will be home alone too. Shall we do a vid call together?” I asked.
“Maybe,” S gave a smiley face. “Maybe I’ll start cumming into a cup and once I fill it up you have to meet me.”
Cheeky bugger. I’d been saying ‘no’ to him because he was a super sub.
“What type of cup?” I asked.
He was the third guy I met in my local quest to find a FWB in my city. We chatted on Bumble and he suddenly asked to meet. There wasn’t time to dress sexy or plan what to say. In ten minutes I was in my car and in five minutes I met him.
He checked some of the boxes. Korean. Yes. Young? 33 years old. Single? Divorced. We didn’t talk much about it but sounded like it wasn’t a fun experience and he was glad it was over.
When we met, we talked about everything except the one question I wanted to know — was he a pervert?
It was hard to tell. He was slightly taller than me, slim with glasses, dressed fashionably nice, not messily dressed in track pants, and with unwashed hair. Yes, I had those.
He bought me a hot chocolate and we skimmed talking about sex till the end when we got into his car because he didn’t want to leave until we had some personal time away from the others at the coffee shop.
“Can I touch your breast?” he asked daringly.
It was broad daylight, and his car was facing the path most people took to get to the coffee shop.
“Okay…quick,” I said. It was my second time having a guy touch my boobs in a car. The first was with V, the swinger guy.
He gave a good squeeze, and my phone rang. I had to leave. It was time for school pickup.
When I got home I was flooded with messages from him and he told me he had a ex-Domme who bought him a Penis cage and locked him up. He’d been pegged and loved being tied up by her.
“I don’t think we fit,” I texted him. “I’m not a Domme like that. I love playing with young men but I stop at pegging and definitely won’t use a Penis cage…”
He kept sending me vids of himself jerking off to my vids and pics I’d shared. Using his Fleshlight to jerk off, knowing how I loved watching that and cum.
The Fleshlight was a rubber tube similar to Tenga’s toys, and you could squeeze lubes into it. His favorite was a clear tube with an open end. I loved watching him shooting out from the other side.
Once a long time ago, I’d bought a Fleshlight for H and he was so upset he took the gift and tossed it in the trash.
“I don’t need a toy. I have my hands and I have you,” he said angrily.
He was right. He didn’t need a toy. I was more than happy to serve him.
“This is your job. You give blow jobs whenever I want.” He pulled my hair and dragged me down to his erection.
When I first heard this I was annoyed and a little pissed. Was my worth measured by my bj abilities?
Wife, mom, intellectual, sexy slut Hotwife. What I’d learnt. Love yourself.
So what if my kink was watching guys jerk off and cum. So what if this guy loves to jerk into a cup and use a Fleshlight?
We’re free to be who we want to be. That was the whole point of sex talking. Breaking all barriers. No judgement.
“So you’ll meet me if I fill a cup of cum?” he asked.
I couldn’t stop laughing. It was so ridiculous. “Sure, but dude you didn’t say what cup.”
He took pictures of all the different cups. Beer shot glass because Koreans like to drink their beer in one shot, soju, rice cups and a tiny sake cup. I watched him as he played with the cups, trying to fit his dick in them.
“Hahahaha…you’re gonna lose,” I said.
Sex shouldn’t be taboo. Talking a guy and being friends didn’t have to be so difficult.
I was changing. One more foot out from the bubble of my daily suburbia life. The cracks to the masks that I had to wear.
It wasn’t just me. H and I were metamorphosing.
“You look different,” many people have said. “You lost a lot of weight. You look happier now,” they added. It felt awesome.
“What’s happen with H?” his colleagues asked me.
“Why? He’s happier,” I replied.
“Is it mid-life crisis?” asked his secretary. They have been watching him from the windows of the office as he crossed the street below, wondering where he was going after lunch at work.
“Where is he going every day?” another asked.
I smirked. Probably to meet another new girl from a dating app I wanted to say but I didn’t. This was our secret. No one knew of our double life then.
Back to the cups. “The rice cup. Use that.” I chose the pic from the texts he sent me. “If you fill it up in a week, I’ll meet you.” I grinned.
“Alright. Deal,” he said, giving a smiling emoticon back.
Bets. Dares. Challenges. My blood sang. This was who I was becoming. Cheeky, naughty and damn right sexy. The jokes, roasting and funny mean. Not needing to be sensitive. I loved it to the core.
“Bad news!” S messaged the day after our talk.
“Why? You couldn’t do it?” I asked.
“No. I did. I cummed once into it, yesterday. But…Urgh. Had to trash the cup,” he said.
“Oh no…you didn’t put it in the fridge…”
“No…,” he said.
“Oh.my.god. Where did you put it?” I asked.
“I hid it on my shelf behind my books,” he said.
“But why? No one’s home. Dude. Sperm is biological. If you don’t fridge or freeze it, it’ll rot.”
“Oh…I didn’t think of it. Isn’t it gross to put that in your fridge?”
“You got to ziplock it.”
“Yuck,” he said. “It’s body liquids…”
“Dude, how do you think moms keep breast milk? Or labs keep blood and whatever.”
“Well…I eat from there,” he said.
“If you can’t handle that, you’re not ready. Guess fate is not yours. We’ll never meet.”
Yeah. One cup Randy was all talk — in a day, he was a cup out of luck.