Johnny the Cheesemonger is literally a cheesemonger. He mongs cheese. He’s also a cheesemonger in the sort of 1980’s way of saying that someone is not performing according to expectations, in other words, lame. But here’s a free dirty story about him anyway.
I meet him on a dating site. He’s a small town East Coast guy that dropped out of high school to work in a factory, and did that for many years before up and moving to Colorado to be with his dream natural environment, bushcraft, DJ, and have a place to shoot the guns he owns.
He spends a while making dates with me and breaking them, and then tries to get me to come to some event he’s DJing on the side. None of that happens, and eventually I simply stop by the cheese shop with a friend and force him to make me a custom board. It’s delicious and his fingers brush mine as he serves it to me, and despite his dorkiness I feel a little zing.
I wonder if it’s him or the cheese though, because I do really like fine cheese.
I agonize a bit over the difficulty in getting with him, but he reassures me that it’s him and not me. And it is.
And so, finally, on a night he’s feeling less socially anxious, I come over to his place to create a free dirty story.
It’s a shitty studio apartment the likes of which I lived in when I was half his age, only one window and half of it is below the line of the street. He shares walls and ceilings with other apartments, and the muted sounds of USAmerican TV news and kids playing makes it through even though he puts on records mid-90’s house music on his good old fashioned Technics setup. I enjoy hearing the vinyl. Our mutual love of 1998 as the peak of electronic music brings us together.
Johnny the cheesemonger tries to impress me by telling me about his vintage guns, and I remark that his bushcraft axes on the wall are definitely not making me concerned about him being an axe murderer. He retorts that he wouldn’t want to fuck up the hand-wrapped leather grips, they took him forever.
Then Johnny asks if I want some cheese.
Knowing that he has the best cheese available in Colorado, I of course accept. He makes me a little plate of three different kinds, with a few grapes on the side. His fridge is half size, and all it has in it is beer and cheese. Johnny the cheesemonger.
After polite conversation he asks if I want to get in bed, and, I note, I do. There’s something earnest, boyish, and charming about him and he looks generous. His bed is raised, and I hoist myself up onto it. He follows me up.
He’s a skinny guy, just a bit taller than I am, with reddish-brown hair and a handsome, weathered face. Johnny removes his shirt to reveal freckles and beauty marks and pale skin. He shows sun damage on his neck and arms, the telltale sign of a guy that has worked under the hot sun.
Johnny is rough, and I like it. I am a sensitive flower and have to ask him to be more gentle with my body repeatedly, and any time I do he backs off immediately.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s hard for me, I’m trying.” he explains, but then quickly learns how to be rough in energy but gentle with my body.
We’re kissing naked and he explains away his lack of wood with the alcohol. And then dives down into me, slurping my pussy like he’s trying to get the last sip out of a small-necked bottle.
“You taste fucking amazing” he says, with his mouth half full. “Damn you’re healthy.”
I am. He isn’t.
I’m sucking his cock and my nose wrinkles. He’s not clean. I almost wonder if he’s not showered since he fucked someone else, but believe him that it’s been a while since he’s had another free dirty story.
His rough, working class hands grab me and throw me over his knee. I’m giggling.
“Stop laughing.” he says, sternly, smacking me on the ass. We both freeze. He puts out feelers to see if I want more. I give my ass a little wiggle. It’s been a while since I had a good spanking. My skin tingles, the heat from his palms and the strikes radiating out and around and I am dripping wet. “What’s so funny?”
“You, you’re surprised that your dick is hard.” I reply, sassily. “And you’re a cheesemonger.”
And it is, it’s digging into my hip deliciously as he smacks me a few more times and then spreads my lips and sticks his little finger into me up to the knuckle and smacks me again with the other hand. I moan and wiggle against him.
“Fucking princess.” he says, and all the power dynamics drip out of his hand into my ass as he spanks me hard and fast, with abandon, for all the privilege I have had and he has not.
Holding me still and upside down over his lap he starts slowly circling my clit with his first two fingers. I want it to stay slow and soft, but he soon goes hard and fast again.
“Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you to be gentle.” I snarl. It gets through. He smiles when I give him orders. He obeys.
Johnny strokes me in rhythm with the house music we both so love. I find myself thrusting to the beat, but he keeps his pinky inside me only just a hair, not letting me get it further into me no matter how much I move. As I start to bear down into a thunderous orgasm he presses it towards my clit.
“Yesssssss” I can’t help but say.
I lie there staring at the tapestries on his ceiling, and the axes on his wall for a moment. We kiss, deep and wet.
I dress and lazily climb down off the cheesemonger’s bed and stand in front of it. It’s waist height, and I bend over it and rest my torso on the bed while standing, reaching my arms out and stretching. He comes in from behind and grabs my hips.
“I bet you just want me to shove my dick inside you.” he thrusts into me, but I’m dressed and he’s soft, so it’s pantomime, but still incredibly hot. “Yeah, like this, is that what you want?” he says, pounding me.
I don’t want that, really, because I am delicate and it will hurt, and I don’t want a UTI from his dirty cock. But this is fantasy, it’s not happening now, and in fantasy world I do want it. I want Johnny the cheesemonger to fuck me rough and hard. I want him to hit me. I’ll show him how tough a princess I can be.
“Yes. I want you to fuck me rough and hard and pull my hair and destroy my cunt. And feed me cheese.” I feel the heat rising in his body as I talk, and the slap of his hips on my ass.
“Next time, girl, next time.”
Other Free Dirty Stories: