Wondrous with Xochitl Gomez

[TheLW]

Wondrous
With Xochitl Gomez
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Anal, Blowjob
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

I spotted her the instant she stepped onto the red carpet that night.

The custom Rosie Assoulin dress was a vivid, heart-stopping crimson, structured shoulders flaring into dramatic puff sleeves, a sharp square neckline carving perfect frames around her collarbones. The fabric molded to every curve before flaring into a subtle mermaid hem that swayed with each step. Gold hoops caught the light against her throat, a tiny clutch dangled from manicured fingers. She posed for the photographers, playful peace signs, blown kisses to the crowd, radiant, utterly in command.

Then our eyes locked.

The moment stretched two seconds too long. She bit her lower lip, tilted her head toward the quieter end of the carpet near the velvet ropes. I followed without a word.

She leaned against a tall planter when I reached her, one hip cocked, red heel crossed over the opposite ankle. Up close, her perfume enveloped me, warm amber laced with a dirty, intimate edge. She raked her gaze over me slowly, then spoke first, voice low and teasing.

“You’re staring like you’ve never seen a girl in a dress before.”

“I’ve seen dresses,” I replied.

“Want to know something no one else here knows?”

I nodded.

She leaned in until her lips grazed my ear. “Under this dress? Just the tiniest black thong… and a butt plug I slipped in back at the hotel. I’ve been clenching around it all night, thinking the filthiest thoughts. You going to do something about it, or just stand there gawking?”

“Five minutes. Somewhere private. Now.”

She studied my face, eyes darkening with something serious, then gave one sharp nod. “Only if you promise to make it messy. I want my lipstick ruined. I want to look like I’ve been properly used when I walk back out there.”

We slipped behind a heavy black curtain into a dim service hallway, scented with hairspray and faint champagne, otherwise empty. The moment the fabric swung shut, she was on me. Full, natural lips crashed into mine, tongue seeking, wet and demanding. I backed her against the wall, hands gliding up those structured shoulders, thumbs brushing bare skin just above the neckline while she rolled her hips against me.

Xochitl broke the kiss, before she sank down slowly, the red dress pooling around her like spilled wine on the floor. Those eyes stayed locked on mine as she worked my belt open with eager fingers, tugged the zipper down, and freed me. She licked her lips once, then wrapped those full, glossy lips around the head of my cock.

The first slide of her tongue was exquisite, warm and wet. She started shallow, tongue swirling around the tip, sucking gently while her hand stroked the base. Spit already glistened on her chin.

Then she went deeper.

Lips stretched wide, cheeks hollowing as she pushed forward until I hit the back of her throat. A soft gag, once, then she relaxed, taking me further. Tears welled instantly, smudging her perfect liner, but she didn’t retreat. Instead she gripped my thighs, nails digging in, and began to bob, slow, deliberate drags at first, then faster, wetter, louder.

Slurping echoes filled the hallway. Thick strands of spit bridged her lips to my shaft each time she pulled back for air. She looked up through wet lashes, mascara streaking in dark rivers down her cheeks, lipstick smeared across her mouth and onto me in glossy red streaks. She was a beautiful, glorious wreck, and she reveled in it.

“Fuck my face,” she gasped between breaths, voice hoarse. “Please. Use me.”

I slid my fingers into her sleek up-do, pins popping free, and took control.

I guided Xochitl's head forward, thrusting deep, feeling her throat flutter and tighten each time I bottomed out. She moaned around me, muffled and desperate, hands sliding up to grip my ass and pull me harder. Drool spilled down her chin, dripping onto the crimson fabric bunched at her knees. Her breathing turned ragged, wet, choking sounds punctuating every few thrusts, but her eyes never left mine, begging for more.

I fucked her mouth with a steady pace, deep, slow strokes that made her gag and drool, then sharper snaps that drew whimpers and had her grinding her thighs together beneath the dress. Tears streamed freely now, mascara ruined in black tracks down both cheeks. Lipstick smeared everywhere, from ear to ear, coating me, streaking her face like erotic war paint. She looked devastated, euphoric, utterly surrendered.

When I finally pulled out, she gasped for air, strands of spit still connecting us. She grinned up, wild, filthy, proud, then dove back in unprompted, sucking hard, tongue frantic until I warned her I was close.

Xochitl pulled off just long enough to rasp, “In my mouth. All of it.”

I didn’t.

She took me deep one final time, throat working as I came, hard, throbbing, flooding her. She swallowed greedily, moaning through every spurt of cum, milking me until I was empty. Only then did she ease back, lips swollen and glossy, a thin trail of cum and spit clinging to the corner of her mouth.

She swiped it with her thumb, sucked it clean, then rose on unsteady heels. The dress was hopelessly wrinkled, makeup obliterated, hair tumbling in dark strands from its ruined updo. She looked like pure, unapologetic sin.

Xochitl smoothed the dress as best she could, tucked a stray lock behind her ear, flashed one last wicked smile, and stepped back toward the heavy black curtain like the star she was.

Except she didn’t make it far.

I caught her wrist just as the fabric brushed her shoulder, pulling her back into the shadowed hallway with a firm tug. She spun toward me with a surprised look that turned into a hungry grin when she saw the look on my face.

“Not yet,” I said, voice low. “We’re not done here.”

Her eyes flared, dark, delighted. “Good. Because I’m still throbbing around that plug, and it’s been teasing me the whole time I stood there pretending to be composed.”

I spun her little body around in one smooth motion, pressing her forward until her palms braced flat against the cool concrete wall. The red dress, still impossibly vivid even in the dim light, stretched taut across her back. I gathered the mermaid hem in both hands and dragged it upward, slow enough to savor the reveal, smooth thighs, the delicate black thong bisecting her ass, the thin strip disappearing between cheeks already flushed from earlier arousal.

She arched instinctively, pushing back toward me, heels clicking once as she widened her stance. The structured puff sleeves framed her shoulders like scarlet wings, the square neckline dipped low enough that I could see the rapid rise and fall of her collarbones.

I hooked two fingers under the thong’s waistband and yanked it aside, not off, just enough to expose her completely. The jeweled base of the plug glinted faintly in the low light, nestled deep, her body clenching visibly around it as she felt the sudden air.

“Fuck,” she breathed, head tipping back, dark strands spilling loose.

I pressed my body to hers from behind, one hand sliding up to grip the base of her throat, not really choking her, just possessive, while the other worked the plug free in a slow pull. She whimpered at the stretch, then moaned outright when it popped past the ring of muscle, leaving her empty and fluttering.

I lined up and thrust in hard, straight to the ass, no preamble, burying myself to the hilt in one forceful stroke.

She cried out, sharp and ecstatic. The dress bunched higher around her waist like crimson wreckage, the fabric caught between us, rustling with every snap of my hips. Her heels forced her ass up at the perfect angle, legs trembling but holding steady as I fucked her deep and relentless.

“Harder,” Xochitl gasped, voice breaking on the word. “Ruin me in this fucking dress.”

I obliged.

One hand fisted the gathered fabric at her lower back, using it like a handle to yank her back onto me with every thrust. The other slid around to find her clit and circled fast, merciless. She bucked between my cock and my fingers, caught in the dual assault, thong twisted to the side and soaked.

The hallway echoed with wet slaps, her choked moans, the scrape of her heels on concrete as she fought to stay upright. Mascara tracks still streaked her cheeks, fresh sweat beaded along her spine, darkening the red silk in patches. Lipstick remnants smeared across her mouth from before, now joined by the sheen of spit and exertion.

She clenched around me frantically, greedy, desperate, each contraction pulling me deeper. “I’m... fuck... I’m gonna cum like this,” she panted. “Don’t stop. Fill me up. Mark me inside this dress so I feel it dripping when I walk back out.”

I drove harder, faster, short, punishing thrusts that made her whole body jolt. Her knees buckled once, I caught her hips, held her pinned against the wall, and slammed home again and again until she shattered.

Her orgasm hit like a wave, back arching violently, throat opening on a silent scream that finally broke into a keening moan. She throbbed around me, milking hard, thighs shaking in those red heels. I followed seconds later, burying deep and coming with a low groan, hot, thick spurts of spunk flooding her ass, claiming every inch.

We stayed locked like that for long moments, her forehead pressed to the wall, chest heaving, my hands still gripping her hips through the crumpled dress. Slowly I eased out, watching my cum trickle down her inner thigh, mingling with her own wetness before the thong snapped back partially into place.

She turned in my arms, legs unsteady, face flushed and gloriously wrecked, hair wild, makeup obliterated, dress hopelessly creased and hiked, heels scuffed. Yet her eyes burned with satisfaction.

The End