Raw Barn Anal: My No-Strings First Night with a Shy Virgin

Days of non-stop chatting on the app, his shy messages turning filthy. ‘Can’t stop thinking about your ass,’ he types. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I pedal hard behind him, heart racing. We hit the old barn on the edge of town, that abandoned spot we pinned on the map. No time for bullshit small talk. I suggest it this time—’Back to the barn?’ He grins, obsessed. We chain the bikes, slam the creaky door shut, lock it tight. Hands everywhere, ripping clothes off feverishly. Shirts fly, jeans yanked down. Naked in seconds, skin prickling in the dusty air. His scent hits me—sweat mixed with cheap cologne, finally real after screens. I feel his arms scoop me up, rough hands kneading my ass cheeks. Fuck, the urgency. I wriggle free, climb the ladder to the hayloft, knowing he’s staring at my bare ass swaying. Up top, I flop into the soft hay, spread my thighs wide. ‘Come here,’ I purr, pussy already throbbing, wet from the ride and his stares.

He kneels between my legs, yanks my hips to him, my ass on his thighs. His hard cock presses against my slit, hot and leaking. He grinds slow, hands roaming—face, shoulders, tits, belly. ‘Turn over,’ he growls. I flip to my stomach, cheek on folded arms, smiling. He straddles my thighs, massages my neck, back, down to my crack. Fingers tease my cheeks apart, brush my tight hole. His dick nestles in my ass cleft, warm and pulsing. ‘Spread wider,’ he demands. I do, thighs parting max. ‘Lift that ass.’ I arch up, doggy style, knees spread, head down—cunt and asshole on full shameless display. He devours it with his eyes. ‘Anyone ever tell you your ass is fucking perfect?’ ‘All the time,’ I tease back. Arms wrap around, grabbing my swinging tits. I shiver. He pulls back, kisses my pussy lips, then zeroed on my hole. Tongue flicks soft at first, tasting, circling. Then laps hard, sloppy, owning it. Finger presses, wet from my dripping cunt. Slides in easy, new friction making me gasp. Pumps slow. Adds spit, then a second finger—stretching me, burning sweet. ‘Fuck, yes,’ I moan. His cockhead nudges my pussy for lube, slick and ready. Back to my ass. ‘Come on,’ I breathe, pushing back.

The Approach

Gland pops in, tight ring gripping. I yelp—pain-pleasure mix exploding. He freezes. I rock my hips, urging. He grabs my waist, thrusts deep. Slow at first, then machine-guns it. Harder, faster. ‘Fuck my ass!’ I scream, pain ripping but so goddamn good. Hands everywhere—mauling tits, slapping hips, yanking hair. I brace on a hay bale, bucking wild, rubbing my clit furious. Cock hurts him too, but he pounds relentless. I cry out, ‘More! Harder!’ Body shakes, convulsing. He roars, slams brutal final thrusts, floods my ass hot. Collapses on me. We roll sideways, his dick slips free, cum leaking. Panting heavy. ‘And I’m still a fucking virgin,’ I laugh, wrecked.

Hay sticks to sweat-slick skin. Phone buzzes downstairs—probably some other dude. We dress quick, no cuddles. Bike back silent, adrenaline crash. At the fork, quick nod. Block him on the app. Back to hunting. Ass sore for days, but that raw high? Addictive.