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You asked me what I’d like for my birthday . . . I’ve given it a lot of thought.
I’d like to meet you somewhere that we couldn’t acknowledge one another . . . somewhere you were known, and I follow you, watching you before you can watch me, before you even know I’m there. It’s just you and a couple of guys and I watch you grab a table, order a few beers, settle back to watch the game, maybe eat some wings, bullshit . . . I find a seat at the bar where you can see me . . . there’s an empty seat next to mine, I stretch my legs out onto it, smooth down the short skirt over my thighs, cross my ankles and lean back . . . I can see you reflected in the mirror . . . someone says something and you look up at me and I can feel your eyes running up my legs in their black stockings . . . I order a martini and sip it from a stemmed glass, dipping my fingers in to pluck out an olive, suck it into my mouth and then lick my fingers . . . I get up slowly, walk past your table and over to the jukebox, standing on one foot in spiked heels and bending over display . . . pick out a few songs . . . walk back to my chair to the sounds of ‘Save The Last Dance For Me’ . . . sit back down and turn and look at you, tilt my head, smile . . . a smile that grows a little wicked as I see you recognize me.
A man sits next to me and engages me in conversation, his eyes very obviously on the neckline of my thin shirt or on my thighs, where I’ve let the skirt ride up nearly to the top of my stockings. From where you sit, you can see the lace and you watch as he buys me a drink and thinks about having me . . . I can tell that it’s killing you to have to sit there, watching, and I wonder if I should let him touch me. I catch your eyes in the mirror, glance towards the door, pay my bill and get up slowly, say a few words to the man next to me, and walk towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see you getting to your feet, muttering some excuse, following me discreetly.
I wait for you, leaning against the window of a closed store, breathing the night air. When you come out you move right to me, tension written through you, a touch of anger, surprise. I get no chance to speak before you take my arms and pull me towards you, back into the shadowed doorway, and your lips come down on mine.
I stiffen against you for an instant in surprise, then slowly melt against your mouth, more than a little dizzy from drinking, from teasing, from you. I can feel heat running through me like current, my nipples tingle and between my legs a stab of heat that makes me moan.
One of your hands slides up into my hair, pulling my head back, you release my mouth and look down into my face . . . your other hand cupping my breast, the nipple an aching hardness against your fingers.
‘Surprise,’ I manage to whisper, but my heart is pounding and it’s hard to catch my breath . . . I’m drowning in the scent of you, the heat of bahçelievler escort your skin and the look in your eyes . . .
You don’t say anything for a moment, just move against me so that I can feel the hard swell of your cock against the mound of my pussy. Then . . . ‘Where can we go?’ you ask in a hoarse voice.
‘I’ve got a room . . . just down the street’ I manage, not moving, just watching you. You take my hand and pull me onto the sidewalk, and we walk quickly, not speaking, not touching out where anyone can see us. It’s as if my fingers itch, I find them reaching towards you and I’m forced to pull my hand back . . . then at the door to my room, no longer moving, tense as I locate the key and open the door, like the very air has drawn tight about my skin. . . step through the door first, take only a few steps before I feel your hand on my shoulder, turning me and the door slams closed.
Your hands are tight on my flesh, almost painful, but mine are over you as well, and not gently. We do not speak; I kiss you, you kiss me; we kiss and our bodies strain against one another . . . your knee between my legs, pressing them apart, and then your hand on me, rough, beneath my skirt, over the margin of bare thigh between stocking and . . . nothing.
I can hear you groan as your fingers slide up unimpeded into the damp curls, into the soft hot folds of my pussy . . . I shudder when the tips rub slowly across the hard nub of my clitoris, arch hard against your hand.
My fingers are undoing your shirt buttons, desperate to slide across your bare skin. We are moving across the room together until I fall back upon the bed, pulling you with me until we roll to rest at the center of the bed and I’m atop you. I can feel the rub of your cock as your hips grind against mine, and I meet you. I can feel your hands up across my bare ass, squeezing, and your mouth hard on my neck, bruising the tender skin, making me gasp.
Your hands on my hips now, pulling me up so that my dripping pussy is poised above your mouth . . . and I cry out, pushing my palms hard against the wall, when I feel the lash of your tongue over me. You take me close and then closer, probing, pressing, licking, sucking and I’m taut in expectation when you push my hips back . . . and I can see the wickedness in your eyes . . . ‘Tease me, will you?’ your voice is rough, and your hands are in my hair again, pressing my face down against the length of your cock, outlined so hard against the fabric of your pants . . . ‘Girls who tease have to pay,’ I can hear you say above me . . .
I’m gasping slightly, my face flushed, my body still throbbing with frustrated tension . . . my breath is hot through the cloth, and you moan briefly as I press my mouth against you. I raise my face and look at you while my fingers undo your buttons and zippers . . . and you raise your hips as I slide your pants down, easing balgat escort them from your legs.
I catch my breath as I see how hard you are, touch you lightly with a fingertip . . . but you slap my hand away.
‘Just your mouth’ you say hoarsely, pinning my wrists at either side of your hips and straining up towards my mouth. I can see a glistening drop of fluid at the tip of you, and I touch it with my tongue and slowly spiral down, making you wet . . . and you moan again.
And you press upwards and I feel the head of your cock slide past my lips and then you thrust deep, all of a sudden into my mouth. . . I’m choking slightly, twisting in your hands as you fill me, not letting me pull back . . . I can feel the lazy pressure of your hips against my face, and then your hands relaxing slightly, letting me breathe.
You can feel my mouth hot and tight around you, and you’re so ready, so aroused, and you start moving in and out, faster, and I can hear you panting and gasping and your fingers pull at my hair and you drive deep, against the back of my throat and pin me against you, and I hear you cry out as you start to fill my mouth with your cum. And I swallow desperately, dizzy with the hot taste of it.
Your legs are shaking as you pull me up over your body and press me to you, my lips on yours, my tongue in your mouth, tasting my cum on your tongue as you do yours in mine . . .
And then you roll me to my side, so that we are face to face, and I look into your eyes and your hand moves from my hip down across my thighs and you tease one finger over me, watching me shiver. A slow smile steals across your face, and you press me down onto my back, your hand moving harder against me as you lean down.
‘Oh . . . am I going to make you beg,’ you promise me, and your teeth close gently around one hard nipple outlined against the thin fabric of my shirt. I give a choked cry at the sensation that shoots through me, and grow suddenly wetter against your slowly stroking hand. You tongue my nipples, suck them, twist them suddenly hard between your teeth all through the fabric, it clings wet against my skin. And I cry out again when one of your fingers thrusts slowly into me. I whimper, both of my hands against your shoulders, trying to push you back, but you pin my wrists above my head and return to teasing my nipples, until I am torn between pain and exquisite pleasure and you can feel the heat thrumming through me.
My hips are churning against your hand, your fingers and my breathing so fast and I’m so close and my body arches, straining . . . and you pull your hand away from my cunt and reach up to tear open my shirt, the buttons flying. I hear you laugh at the sound that I make . . . a hiss of frustration joined to a moan that’s pure heat . . .
And you keep my wrists pinned still above my head, but with your other hand you turn me onto my stomach, pull my skirt ankara escort off and lie on top of me, brushing the hair away from my neck so that you can explore it with your mouth. Beneath you my heart is thundering against my ribs and I am shaking, my hips trying to grind against the mattress.
Your voice is amused . . . ‘So you don’t like being teased, darlin?’ and I feel you trail a finger down my spine, I shiver.
‘Oh god you’re cruel,’ I manage finally, and you laugh and slide down my body until you are straddling my legs. I feel your fingers on my ass, stroking. ‘Such a nice little ass,’ I hear you say thoughtfully, ‘Just needs – ‘ and I jump when your bare hand cracks against the pale skin.
I twist, try to wriggle away from you, my skin tingling, on fire where your hand strikes. You reach up with your free hand and pin my wrists behind my back . . . my eyes grow wet, I bite hard against my lower lip to keep from crying out . . . five strokes and then you stop, I can hear you panting behind me.
‘You ever going to tease me like that again?’ you ask roughly, bending down to hear my answer. I shake my head ‘no’. ”Say it,’ and your voice is tight, and your fingers clasp my prisoned wrists harder, pulling me up from the bed.
My eyes closed, swallowing hard, I manage to whisper ‘No.’ I can feel your cock hard again, pressing against me. ‘So tell me what you want, you little tease,’ you demand, and I feel your fingers across my stinging ass . . . and I stammer slightly when I answer you . . .
‘Please , , , you know what I want . . . ‘ and you can feel my ass rising up from the bed, pressing against your hand, straining towards your thick cock . . . ‘please – take me ‘
And your hands are suddenly on my hips, pulling me up and I can feel you behind me, rising to your knees ‘Spread yourself open for me,’ you demand, and I reach down with my hands and pull my ass cheeks apart, my face buried against the mattress. . . open for you, wet and glistening and hot . .
You take your cock in your hands and press forward, I can feel you, and my breath catches in sharp anticipation . . . as you slowly thrust into me, you can hear me gasp, see my fingers tighten against the scarlet skin of my ass . . . and I feel you bury yourself in me, all the way, and I’m impaled, dizzy
Raising myself, grinding back against you, liquid heat through my bones, along my skin, drunk with the heavy scent of our bodies, the rub of your slick skin, the sound of us joining so wetly . . . my cunt grows tight around you, and you can feel the tremors through me, shaking me until I scream.
Soft gasp as you pull from me and turn me over, and then I reach for you, pull you down against me, feel you slide into me again, joined. Raising myself from the bed, kissing you deeply, my hands down your back, my legs twining around yours. The relentless heat of you into me, so hard, so deep, until the edges begin to dissolve once again and I can feel the explosion building in you. Holding myself back, wanting to fall with you, and then you groan and impale me, grinding into me, filling me and I let go and fall too . . .
I’d like something like that, I think . . .
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32