Today’s smut is dedicated to Confess Hannah, whose tweets about flirting and getting spanked the other day inspired me to write this post about a glorious garden fuck. I hope this lives up to her expectations for this delicious dirty story.
|This blog post is now available as audio porn, read by Lessons in Kate! Click here to play:||
Content note for throat-fucking and degradation.
The sunshine makes you want to flirt. Well, the sunshine, and the fact that you’re surrounded by girls in sundresses and boys with rolled up sleeves. The garden you are sitting in is beautiful, with green grass and blossoming trees and beautiful flowers. It’s so bright and sunny that it almost feels like a dream – or more accurately a fantasy.
Even the smallest actions on the part of your friends are turning you on. You watch one roll up his sleeves and imagine him doing so before telling you to bend over for a beating. You see another subtly adjust their crotch and can’t stop thinking about what their dick looks like. You try to flirt with the girl sitting next to you, because she is so gorgeous and her smile makes you melt a little, but you’re sure you are just coming across as a sweaty mess.
Of course, being a sweaty mess isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Between the warmth of the sun and the cold white wine, you’re brave enough to kick your shoes and put your feet up on his lap. The grin he flashes you is filthy and although the conversation continues around you, all you can focus on are his hands, which are slowly massaging your calves. His hands are strong and firm, and you can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like on other parts of your body. You don’t have to wait long.
“Come here,” he orders, and when you’re standing next to him he pushes you down in front of him. For a second you hope he’s going to make you suck his cock, but instead he just smirks and sticks a hand down the front of your lovely green dress to grope your tits. The humiliation of being objectified makes you squirm, but he gives you a stern look. Soon another friend – the one whose trousers are held up with a belt that looks very promising – tells him that he’s being selfish.
“Bend over and lift your skirt up,” he instructs you. “I want to see if being touched in front of all of us makes you wet.”
Of course it has, and his words make you more aroused still. He barks at you to stay still, using a dominant tone that makes you shiver and makes it so much harder to stand. They casually talk about your cunt and your arse and what a slut you are to expose yourself for them like this, and every one of the words they throw at you makes you more desperate to get fucked. Hard.
You almost breathe a sigh of relief when someone grabs you and pulls you upright, quickly stripping you of your dress and crushing your tits in their hands. They kiss you roughly, then looks over your shoulder at the rest of the group and asks a question that makes your cunt pulse.
“Does anyone mind if I use the little slut’s mouth first?”
He asks their permission, not yours, assuming your consent with an arrogance that makes you even more excited for him to use you. He pushes you to your knees, and gets his cock out. His hard, eager cock that you’re almost drooling for by the time he’s painted your lips with his pre-come and is using his fingers to force your mouth as far open as it can go.
They are careful to grab your hair in such a way that the daisy chain crown you’re wearing stays in place. Their hold on your hair means you have no control on how deeply they are throat-fucking you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. The sunshine feels good on your bare skin and you are choking on his cock, then being allowed to breath, then being face-fucked so ruthlessly that it’s hard to breathe…
You fall backwards on the green grass, panting. The sun is warm and you are lying naked on the lush grass with come on your tits. You can’t stop smiling. Soon you crawl over so you can sit on the grass at his feet. He hands you a fresh glass of wine, and you watch your friend – now also naked – getting spanked over the knee of the dominant guy wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up so you can see the muscles tensing in every inch of his strong arms. The boy you’re leaning against strokes your hair, whispering promises that you are going to get a much crueller beating later. Your wiggle your toes in the grass.
The gorgeous girl who is still wearing her dress, though? She lifts up her floaty skirt and beckons you towards her. Somehow, her demanding what she wants is far easier than trying to ask for what you would like. She is confident and stunningly pretty, and you forget your own gracelessness when she cups your cheek and brushes your hair back so she can tuck a delicate pink-edged daisy behind your ear. She bends down to kiss you before telling you – in a low voice that undoubtedly everyone else can hear – exactly what she expects of a good little slut. You blush deeply, but you have no desire to resist.
It’s a glorious day and there’s nowhere you’d rather be than in this beautiful garden, getting fucked by your friends.
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Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.