I know, I know – more of the same. You’ve heard it all before. But still….
You are dressed as I requested.
A tiny black dress.
A black bra.
Your pussy is wet.
You don’t see me.
As you walk in, I text you: “Order yourself a drink. I see you.”
You look around. The place is crowded, busy. But you don’t see me.
You sit at the bar. Order a drink.
Where am I?
Am I there?
Are you, really, missing me?
Your eyes wander the bar. You still don’t see me.
“Stop looking for me,” I text. “Focus on your drink.”
You do. You’re a good girl. You focus on your drink.
As you stare, straight ahead, you feel my hand on your waist. I whisper in your ear: “Are you ready to be fucked?”
You start to answer.
“Shhhhh,” I say. “Please don’t speak.”
Yes, you nod. You’re ready to be fucked.
I take your hand, lay a twenty on the bar, and we walk out.
Fortunately, it’s not far. We’re in an elevator, alone. My hand is under your dress, feeling just how hot your pussy is through those black boyshorts. I’m not pressing my hand into you, I’m just feeling your warmth. Your wetness.
You are breathing heavily. You want to talk. I can sense it.
“Please don’t speak,” I say.
The elevator doors open. I lead you to the room. I open the door, and guide you through it.
I close the door, secure the latch.
I spin you around, kiss you, deeply. I throw you back on the bed. You let out a little yelp at the force with which I throw you down.
My hand is stroking my cock, hard, under my jeans.
“Touch yourself for me,” I say.
You slide a hand up your thigh, under your dress. You slide it under the boyshorts I’d asked you to wear. Your finger finds your clit….
I walk around to the side of the bed and grab your head, hard. “Do you want my cock?” I ask.
“Where do you want it?” I ask.
You say, “My mouth.”
I say, “I thought I said not to speak.”
You start to apologize. But you catch yourself. You open your mouth, lick your lips, bend your neck toward my cock.
I grab you by the hair, and pull your head back.
“You want my cock in your mouth?”
To be continued.