This is a short fiction story. I may well write a part two.
My blog is: http://singlesexysecrets.blogspot.com.au/
I’m a lawyer. A successful one. I dress like one too. I played college football, and I’m built like I did. Even now in my early 30’s my hair is still a perfect shade of hazelnut. My brown eyes are sharp and strong. I stand at a masculine 6”. I have a nice big thick cock too.
It was Friday, after a long week I like to sit in the bar, have a cognac and wait. Sooner or later there will be a skank. Satin dress, tall heels. Hair straightened and then curls put through the ends. Perfect make up. Usually 22, not so bright. All I have to do is sit at the bar. I’m good looking enough one will find me.
Girls are never subtle when they want you. They’re always blatant. They’ll sit next to you, their strong perfume will waft towards me, they’ll touch their neck and face and cleavage. As long as you ignore them, make them buy their own drinks and treat them like you’re barely interested, I’ll take them home and fuck them.
Every Friday at 3am I escort the same cardboard cut out to my front door, her heels in her hands. Every Friday I offer the girl whose name I invariably will have forgotten by morning a 50 as she leaves.
Every Friday, from midnight till 3am, I’ll fuck them, spank them, shove a finger or my big hard cock in their asshole. If they’re drunk and slutty I’ll have them lick my cock clean. I use their worthless little bodies for those three hours. I don’t take their numbers – there’s always another slutty little skank who’ll let me use her.
I was sitting alone at the bar, eased into the high backed leather chair. Same one I preferred each week. The girls I’d fucked before never wanted to talk to me. Too humiliated that I’d walked them to the door and shut it in their faces without so much as a kiss goodbye. I was bored and irritable tonight. Dumb sluts weren’t impressing me. I’d seen a few girls come through, stand next to me, and look at me expecting me to talk to them. They thought they were sexy in their cheap shoes and tacky dresses. They all do. I wasn’t interested. It was nearing 11, and I’d seen a few I could have taken home. I’d seen a few girls I was sure would come as a package deal.
Usually the thought of two or three girls stretched out naked in their lace panties on my bed would please me. Tonight I was bored. I wanted a challenge.
I saw a girl on the other side of the bar. Her hair was tied into a bun. Less make up than the other girls. I saw her lean forward to order her drink, her tits bounced a little in her dress. Big tits. Real ones. Better than the plastic shit I’d played with the night before. I watched her move. She was natural, easy smile. Alone too. Skanks always hunt in packs, they can sniff a heavy wallet, as if enough green notes will get them wet.
This one looked different.
Her hair was immaculate in that perfect loose bun. From the size of her bun I could tell it was long. Her thin rimmed black glasses told me she cared enough to buy designer label glasses, but wasn’t vain enough to suffer contacts to look “sexy” in a bar.
Her dress wasn’t the flashy red satin or tacky sequined of the other sluts. From the way it hung it was silk. It was black strapless knee length silk. It was classy with a little sex appeal. I was struggling to decide if the dress or her hair was a more pure black. Her skin was tanned lightly, and her lips had a little shine. Natural, I guessed. I watched a tall attractive man approach her at the bar. He’d cracked a joke he thought was funny. I could see the smile tugging at his lips. She looked bored. I could tell she had told him to move along with his night from the way he looked. The look on his face was like a cat had swiped it’s sharp claws along his cheek.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were dark too. We held eye contact for a moment. She looked away. She seemed underwhelmed. She stretched and sipped the last of her drink, reaching for her black little purse. I knew I had a moment to strike, or I’d lose this beautiful creature get away.
I followed her towards the door. I reached out to touch her on the shoulder but she turned on her heel and looked at me before I could. She stepped towards me. Ran a finger down my chest. “You’ll do.” This huntress of a creature was making me nervous. A feeling I hadn’t experienced in at least ten years. I felt my cock twitch a little. She snapped eye contact and turned quickly striding towards the car. She was tall for a woman, slender though. Instead of looking flimsy, she looked razor sharp.
She stepped out into the cool night air, walking briskly towards a waiting black towncar. She opened the door and ushered me in. I felt a little emasculated as I sat there waiting for her. She climbed in next to me. I reached over to kiss her. She held up a single finger, her sharp unpainted nail looked perfect.
“Harris, home please.” She said sternly.
“Yes Miss.” He answered. His voice was strong, but he it was evident that he was devoted.
We drove for a few minutes into the middle of the city. Harris pulled the car up in front of an expensive office building. We stepped out of the vehicle, and Harris pulled away. His orders implied. She didn’t look back to see if I followed. I was started to feel irritated. I was the man and she needed to respect that. I followed her, intending to make my discontent known. Whilst she was clearly a strong woman, when she was on her knees, begging for my cock she’d just be a whore like the rest. She walked up to the door, swiped her purse against a magnetic strip and the glass doors opened. We walked across a large marble foyer, empty at this time of day, and took the lift to the 50th floor. I wasn’t sure what to expect but when the doors opened a classic black and white apartment was inside. It was picture perfect. Not a thing out of place, clean lines. It looked similar to my expensive home, except hers was more luxurious. My apartment was spectacular. Hers was beyond conception.
She walked to the kitchen, pulling a box of expensive cognac off the shelf. She pulled two exquisite crystal glasses. She carefully but dexterously opened the box and poured a generous serving of cognac into each glass.
“My names…” I began to offer. She snapped her fingers at me and interjected.
“If I was interested in your name I would have asked for it.” She stepped towards me, resting her glass on the counter. She kissed me on the lips gently. I kissed her deeply. My next move was flawless. It worked every time. It had hundreds and hundreds of times on the slutty little bitches I banged. I stepped back, preparing to slip in behind her, run my fingertips up her thighs, hitching her dress up a little. I’d brush my fingertips “accidentally” against her pussy, whilst kissing her neck. I’d done it a thousand times.
As I stepped back, she caught me firmly with the palm of her hand in the middle of my chest. I stumbled back. She was remarkably strong. I bumped my ass into the counter like a fucking amateur. She’d pushed me off guard. She grabbed my right wrist with her right hand, and jerked me sideways and spun me hard against the counter, pushing me forwards with her left palm in the middle of my back, her right hand pressing mine against the counter.
She pushed up against me, leaning forward and whispered
“Let me guess honey, just like this?” as she spoke she brushed her lips against my neck and earlobe and ran her fingertips up my thighs brushing her fingertips against my cock through my pants. I was turned on and she felt it.
“What do you think this is, honey? Amateur hour?”
I was fuming. I was smooth, and confident. Here I was bent over a counter like a useless little whore. I shook her hand off mine and turned around I leaned forward to kiss her and she stepped a fraction back. She was toying with me. I was frustrated.
I wanted to grab her, slam her face hard against the wall and shove my cock into her from behind, pulling her hair out of that bun. I’d wipe my dick clean on her silk fucking dress and I’d leave. I’d leave that little bitch used and sore with a black fucking eye.
I wanted her to think she’d won first. I wanted to watch that angry little look in her eyes as I took her.
She walked away from me, walking to her bedroom. She paused, unzipped her black dress. She let it fall casually to the floor. She stepped out of it. Her expensive black heels clicking against the beautiful white floor.
She got to her bedroom. She sat on the bed, looking like an arrogant queen, perched on her throne of white. I hoped I could ruin her expensive sheets by the end of the night. I was hoping she might bleed a little.
“Strip” she ordered.
I slowly took my clothes off. I was playing a chump for her. I’m sure she knew that. The game was now a game of poker. Her sharp almost black eyes searching me for a sign of weakness.
She opened her legs, exposing ever part of her bald cunt, glistening with joy at me ‘submitting’ to her will. She ran her fingers down over her clit. She started to masturbate.
“Come here pet” she ordered I climbed on to the bed on my hands and knees between her legs. I was ready to push my face into her cunt.
“That’s it pet” she whispered “Tell me how much you want to lick my cunt”
She grabbed a fistful of my hair and held my head near her pussy. I could smell it.
“You can’t reach it pet. You have to ask to be allowed to lick my cunt.”
It was part of the game. I just had to beg and then I’d have the upperhand.
“Please let me lick you” I said a little feebly.
She jerked my head back hard and slapped my cheek.
“Oh come on pet. Convince me you’re worthy.”
It was probably only seconds but it seemed like minutes. The demand hung in there air, my refusal to be her little pet was evident.