Literotica – Confessions of a Dirty Girl

Here at the Warlock we love to hear from women with real-life erotic adventures. We chose this one to kick off this regular feature.  Hang on!

“Heathen, n. A benighted creature who has the folly to worship something he can see and feel.” (Ambrose Bierce, The Unabridged Devil’s Dictionary)

My work takes me to strange fringe conventions.  Most of the time I gather my photos and interviews by dinnertime. I really try not to stick around after the sun goes down.  This convention was subdued compared to most.  No costumes.  No half naked cosplay women.  Comprised of mostly deeply intellectual men talking about an obscure passion for characters in nineteenth century literature.  I stuck around a bit to get one more interview.  I had noticed a man by himself intently looking through the vendors’ dusty books.  It was usually my practice to interview those that were alone and concentrated in their chosen subject.  The best interviews were from people that had an intense view of their side of life. 

I calmly approached him. His back towards me as he thumbed through a shoddy green book. “May I ask you a couple of questions?”

No response.

“Excuse me Sir, May I speak with you.”


  My last attempt proved to get his attention.  I swung my head into his peripheral.  I smiled.  “Hi!  May I ask you something?”

  He nodded yes.  It was a start at least.  “What brings you to this gathering?”  He looked, he smiled.  He mouthed some words.  I couldn’t really hear him.  Oh, he couldn’t hear me.  I managed to focus on his mouth the second time around.  I am deaf, he said.  There was some sound but it was negligible.  Feeling a little foolish I think I blushed.  Very slowly and very animated (like a complete ass) I mouthed the words of my question.  “May I interview you?”  He smiled and almost chuckled in a nervous way.  Then a word I loved to see…yes.

We walked over to a room that had been used for small workshops relating to the convention.  The room wasn’t going to be used again until the next day, so I didn’t think anyone would mind.  The door slammed very loudly behind him.  I jumped a bit.  He inquired if I was ok.  Did he think I was nervous interviewing him?  This session may not be amazing…we shall see I thought.  I asked him to get comfortable.  It was obvious he was very proficient at reading lips.  I hurried to get out my pen and pad.  He looked around the empty room.  There was only one chair, a comfy one but still just one.  He motioned that I should sit on it.  I sat hesitantly, wondering if he was going to stand the whole time.  As I looked for my glasses and readied myself for my questions, I saw a shadow drop.  He quickly went to his knees in front of me.  I started to say that he should be comfortable but before I could get out the succession of words he put his hand on my mouth.  His mouth then said, “It’s ok, I want to interview you.”

To say I was a combination of shocked and aroused would definitely be an understatement.  I nodded my head.  He took my skirt off my hips with purpose.  Then I was freed of my panties.  As I started to take off my shirt, he stopped me.  His finger pointing to himself, I should not help him disrobe me.  I complied.  My blouse was then only unbuttoned but left on me.  I had a problem.  I was unbelievably hot but my talents would not all be known.  In my moments of passion my moans would not be heard, my screams won’t be appreciated.  Part of connecting with someone during orgasm is having him or her feed off of my pleasure.  When I moan my partner gets hotter.  When I scream my partner goes deeper.  How will I tell him to thrust into me harder?  He could absolutely sense I was a bit harried.  He lad my upper half down and touched in between my chest.  At the same time he inserted two fingers into me.  I moaned.  He felt it.  I could tell.  Fingering me and watching me he knew exactly when to put more fingers inside of me.  Feeling the vibrations in my chest of the sounds coming out of my mouth, he could tell when I needed more.  He communicated with me in a way I could just feel.

Slowly, he turned his hand down and circled his thumb around my asshole.  He made circles forever.  He knew I wanted him to go in.  He could see me writhing.  Pushing my hips down to him did not seem to yield any results.  He took his hand off my chest and fingered me once again with only one finger.  I started to get to a different place.  There is a realm after foreplay, before orgasm but after the initial phase of being comfortable and free.  Within that realm there always seems to be a suspended reality.  Time elongates but doesn’t pass.  That is where I was.  I was almost in a tantric state.  I let him lead my body.

My body was moving in rhythmic motions.  Gradually he had four fingers inside of me.  Two fingers from his other hand now inside my asshole.  His hands played with each other while deep inside me.  He wasn’t fucking me with his hands.  He was manipulating my insides.  Pulling strings deep inside me.  My legs kept getting wider and wider.  My breathing was now at a controlled animal pant.  I was focused on nothing but what he was showing me to pay attention to.  Each cue that my body exhibited he I understood immediately.

I was pulling at my bra.  The straps had fallen down and I wanted to be totally exposed.  Sensing I was crawling out of my skin he changed his way.  I had left that realm and was approaching orgasm.  I could feel my wetness overflowing.  I could feel my pussy clenching his hand.  My asshole sucking his fingers.

Suddenly, I put my head him to look at him.  He stared at me and fucked my holes so skillfully that I came almost instantly.  His face when I unleashed my juices into his hand was exquisite.  I have never seen someone be in such an erotic state without orgasming themselves.  After I released into him I had the heaviest breathing I could ever imagine.  I attempted to search for my clothes.   His hand then once again touched the middle of my chest.  Feeling me breathe he laid me down.  Closing my eyes with his dim soaked hand I could smell my nectar all over him.  Slowly touching my nose and the brushing his fingers over my mouth.  I could not see but I could smell and taste.  A soft kiss.  I then felt an absence.  Still under his magic I did nothing too quickly.  I opened my eyes.  He was gone.  No sound.  Just gone.

I lay there decompressing and taking in the scent of the room that was full of the thick perfume of the dusty books and my sweat.  I looked around the room and knew I would remember the color of the walls.  The upholstery of the chair was textured and was scratching my bare legs.  On my lips I could still taste his and my sweet cum.  I heard nothing.