You are a drug to me, a vice that I cannot get enough of yet I know will come to no good end, I crave you with every inch of my body. I am far too drunk, and I savour the warm rush of vodka embracing me from head to toe and making my nerves tingle.
I shudder to myself thinking of our conversation earlier in the week. “Why on earth did she do it?” you had asked me, about one of the summer interns’ questionable behaviour during her placement. “Because you look like a filthy fuck” I had answered flippantly. You’d laughed, your brown eyes sparkling provocatively “you think?” My brain had flipped, I had simply wanted you with an appalling, agonizing intensity that both shamed and excited me to the core. I’d leant over you, my face only a couple of inches from yours “oh yes” I’d said. And there it was. Nothing further needed to be said, for a moment we had stared at each other, holding eye contact for longer than normally acceptable in polite company, and months of hard work not letting my feelings show had gone down the plug hole in 7 short words. I had studiously avoided you for the remainder of the week, horrified at what I had said, well aware that it could not be taken back.
The balmy smell of summer evenings and the sound of clinking glasses and people laughing carry across the lawn on the cool evening breeze. The weather couldn’t be more perfect for the end of quarter drinks and speeches, tens of thousands of tiny twinkling lights frame the evening magnificently against the night sky, anticipation rushes through my body and my adrenaline is coursing.
I lean over the makeshift bar with what I hope is a sober expression, I can see you across the gardens, you are looking around, as if trying to locate somebody and I idly wonder if you might be looking for me. The way my body reacts just by looking at you is delicious, a delicious perverted secret, and I long for you to push it, to see what would happen if I gave into it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I am dimly aware that I shouldn’t have drank in the entire evening the amount that I have just consumed in the last two hours but I dismiss the thought, the recklessness only adds to the excitement.
I close my eyes as I feel a hand on my shoulder. Lightening excitement floods my body. I don’t need to look around to know it is you, I recognise the scent of your body, the rhythm of your breathing, the strength of your touch. I try to control the x-rated sensations you arouse in me and turn to face you.
“Evening” you say, something hangs in the air between us, something that wasn’t so blatantly therefore before this week. Christ I want you. I can see the outline of your strong arms through the sheer fabric of your shirt and try to banish thoughts from my mind of them pressing me against the wall. The music is loud and your face is so close to mine that I can feel your breath on my cheek, I struggle to control the urge to lean forward and kiss you.
“Coming to sit down?” We take one of the tables on the edge of the grounds, and make our introductions to the other guests. The lights dim to semi-darkness; the speeches are about to begin. I lean back in my chair, too far, so that I am half resting against your chest. I don’t attempt to correct my mistake and neither do you move away, instead I lean resignedly further back into you, shivers running through my body at the feel of you against me.
I love that you are so much bigger than me; the intimate knowledge that if you wanted to, you could wrap your arms tightly around me, hold me here in the darkness and do anything you want and there would be nothing I could do to stop it – I wonder if my body touching yours arouses similar thoughts in you.
I don’t know how long I sit like that, savouring your closeness, breathing in the late August air, somewhere into the speeches your hand brushes against my thigh as you reach for your glass and I inhale sharply, my body tensing against yours – there is no way you could not have noticed. I turn to face you, your dark eyes meet mine and I cannot break away, your hand returns to my thigh, and this time it is deliberate, this is no gentle accidental touch, time seems to stand still in that heady euphoric rush and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.
And then people are standing up and clapping. I am momentarily disorientated, my mind far from anything other than your touch. It occurs to me that the speeches must be over and I rise to my feet to clap along with the rest of the guests, my mind still reeling. I feel you stand behind me, feel your hand pressing against my ass, your body close against mine so that no one else can see. Slowly, ever so slowly, your hand is stroking me, your breath is hot against my cheek, and I feel you move down my thigh, over my dress, and then up, up, up, inside, your fingers firm and confident, over the top of my knickers, over the split of my buttocks. Arrogant. Masterful. Dominant. Filthy. Delicious. My knickers are drenched. I down the remainder of my vodka – it seems the right thing to do in the circumstances. I long to have you rough, hard and panting inside me.
People are starting to gather their coats and milling away, and suddenly there’s only you and a weight of tense silence. “Dinner?” you eventually ask, I nod and want to scream as you withdraw your hand and we head through the grounds and towards the hotel.
In my room, getting changed and ready to meet you, I think I am going to explode. If I close my eyes I can see you, hear you laugh, feel your touch. I touch myself and imagine my hands are yours, touching me all over, owning me, possessing me completely, I lick my lips and imagine taking you in my mouth, I want to know how you taste, on my tongue, on my lips, all over my body.
I pour myself a glass of water and drink it slowly, savouring the cool liquid as it trickles down my throat. Through the window, moths and other winged insects are out in force, dancing and fluttering around the garden lamps. There is a low buzz of streetlamps warming up, but otherwise there is silence, the air hangs with a heavy tension, the powerful intoxication of inevitability as to what is going to follow.
We meet as agreed by the outbuildings, they smell of cider and home brew. I stand on my tip toes to reach up and kiss your mouth, and you pull me around the corner, into one of the buildings and away from any prying eyes. The smell of newly cut grass and outdoor cooking drifts through the room and I am aware of the sound of easy laughter of people passing on the street on their way home from the pub. Your expression gives nothing away as you push your mouth hard against mine, your tongue forcefully prizing my lips apart as it explores my mouth, your strong arms pinning me against the wall so I am unable to move.
I can feel your cock hot and hard through your trousers, I wriggle loose from your grip and drop to my knees, unbuttoning and releasing you with a determination that scares me. I can’t remember ever wanting anything so much. I thirstily drink in the sight of your cock, outrageously hard and erect and I adjust my position so that I am sitting up slightly, then reach forward and take your balls, one at a time, into my mouth, slowly licking, rolling them gently around my mouth with my tongue, making your cock pulse harder as my tongue starts to climb. I stare up into your eyes as I take you deep into my mouth.
“I want your cock right here and now, I want to taste every drop of you, god I want to suck you dry, and then I want you to cum all over me.”
You groan and push my head back down as I take you back into my mouth, licking, slurping and sucking you for all I am worth, revelling in your taste, my lips working up and down, taking you deeper, savouring the feel of your hot hardness, the smell of your body filling my senses. You take hold of my hair, the blonde strands tangling around your fingers, holding it back out of the way, giving you better visibility of your cock filling my mouth, as I meet your eyes and suck on your glorious magnificent hard-on, running my tongue around the top, licking the sensitive ridge and over the slit, lusting for you with every inch of my body. I am desperate for your cum, I can’t get enough of you, and at this moment in time there is nothing I want more than to feel your hot cum cascading down my throat, over my face, over my tits.
I cup and stroke your balls in my hand as I swirl my tongue around the head of your cock and feel your hands tighten in my hair as I work my lips up and down your shaft, I can feel you shaking as my tongue flicks across the top of your cock, around the head, and my lips close again around you. I can feel you swelling inside my mouth as I continue to suck harder and more urgently, jerking the bottom of your shaft with my hand, using my lips and tongue over the head like a woman possessed. Your breathing is becoming more and more ragged, your movements more urgent, as I suck and slurp lewdly, lost to the outside world, until I eventually feel your body stiffen and your hips buck, I suck thirstily as with a groan you cum like that, spurt after spurt of your hot cum surging forcefully against the back of my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone produce so much, its filling my mouth and dribbling out at the corners, down my chin, I wantonly swallow all you can give me, and lick the last drops from you, revelling in your taste.
Dinner is delicious, the courses come and go, lust and anticipation is running through my veins and the warm sensation of alcohol tingles throughout my body, starting in my legs and working its way up, making me long to be touched. I find my back arching up towards you as we talk, offering you my breasts, wanting your attention, wanting to feel your hands and mouth all over me.
“So I look like a filthy fuck? The question hangs in the air.
“Are you?”
“Would it turn you on if I was? Would it turn you on if I told you that after dinner I was going to yank your knickers down, push you against the wall and fuck you?”
Yes, Jesus, yes. I don’t voice the words out loud, but they are displayed as if in neon letters across my face. And now all that I can think of is my knickers down around my ankles, your mouth pressed hard against mine, your big hands on my hips – and how utterly utterly wet I am.
“So you like me telling you what I’m going to do to you?”
“I love it, the dirtier the better”. I wonder if I am panting out loud.
“Sounds slutty.” Oh, and when you say that, god help me, I’m trembling with red hot lust.
“You make me slutty.”
A raised eyebrow, “so tell me then, tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“I want you to fuck me. Right now. I want you to stick your big hard cock up inside me and I want you to fuck my cunt. I want you to fuck me hard and deep and tell me how good it feels, tell me whilst you have your cock buried deep inside me and you’re fucking me like a whore. I want you to take control, I want you to make me beg you to fuck me, I want you to take me to a place where I have no control and where you decide what happens next, I crave the loss of control to you. I need you to possess me, I need you to use me.” And so there it is. Again.
There is no time for desert or coffee, I can barely contain myself as we walk out of the restaurant and back towards the hotel. Neither of us speak a word as we walk, under the sweep of the stars, the branches of the old oak trees shut out everything and everyone else.
You push me in through the door to your room. The air hangs heavy with tension, the door seems to take years before it finally bangs to, every breath is a lifetime, there is no going back now, and nor would I want there to be.
You push me back against the closed door, your mouth pressing hard and urgently against mine, your tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I feel you unzipping my dress at the back, pushing it roughly off my shoulders so it hangs loosely around my waist. I groan and push myself out towards you as you undo my bra and squeeze my large tits, filling your hands, twisting and pinching the nipples between your fingers, making me moan. Your movements are strong and confident, you are no child so in awe of hurting me that I can barely feel your touch. Quite the contrary, your hands are demanding, your hips grinding against me, your hard, muscular thighs against mine, I’m so wet for you, dripping for you, I’m sure that I must smell of sex.
I start to say your name, but your hand clamps over my mouth. Your other hand is under my dress, pushing the fabric of my knickers to one side, pushing insistently against my soft shaven cunt. Your erection is hard against my stomach, and by the time you push two insistent fingers up inside me I am drenched by my own excitement. I gasp and push myself further onto you, forcing you to fuck me with your fingers.
“Dirty bitch.”
I don’t know if it’s because of the explicitness of the language you use, or because I am now too far gone to return, or because I can feel your sheer physical strength against me, but I can hardly breathe through wanting you and I cannot begin to describe the level of arousal your words induce in me.
You take my arm and lead me into the room, our eyes never lose contact, but neither of us speak. You push my arm behind my back and bend me over the bed, holding me there, my breasts squashed against the cold soft cotton. I stay like that for what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds. Suddenly your hand slaps my ass hard, and I shudder with arousal. You yank my knickers down with one rough pull and I gasp as I you slap me once again.
Your knee roughly pushes my legs apart, your hand still on my back, holding me down so I can see nothing but the bed sheets. I hear you unzipping your trousers and I think my heart might explode out of my rib cage at any moment.
I can feel your hard, hot erection against me, and I almost lose myself in delight, I want you so badly. You step back, away from me. I stay where I am.
“Beg me for my cock.”
My head is in pieces. I think I am going to cum. It’s so dirty, so arousing, it makes me shiver all over. I spread my legs wider and turn my head to face you, still bent over the bed, pushing my ass up higher towards you. Everything about you is masterful, the way you stand, the way you look, the control in your voice as you ask me again to beg you for your cock. I cannot remember ever wanting anyone as much as I want you now. I wiggle my bottom and my dress falls from around my waist and joins my knickers on the floor, so that I am naked apart from my heels.
“Good girl.”
It’s patronizing, humiliating even, but oh god, you know all the buttons to push.
“Fuck me, please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me, I can’t take it anymore. I want you to fuck my cunt with your big hard cock.”
Your hand traces down my spine, over the curve of my ass, between the split of my buttocks, your fingers sliding down to meet my dripping opening, teasingly slipping and rubbing themselves against my clit, sending my body into convulsions as they curve around and rub inside me, sliding in and out, stroking me, teasing me, owning me. I groan deeply as your fingers push deeper and deeper into me, my hands grabbing at the bed sheets as your thumb hovers tantalisingly over my asshole, driving me insane with lust.
“What about there? You ever fantasised about my cock fucking you there?”
I cannot speak. My muscles start to contract and as you push your thumb, wet with my juices, through my tight asshole, I cry out and I’m gone, my muscles gripping you as my orgasm rips through my body.
My legs seem to have spread wider entirely of their own volition and your hands are in my hair, pulling my head back, the hard heat of your cock pressing against me.
You flip me over so that I am facing you, then pick me up and sit me on the desk. The whole thing is one fluid effortless movement and once more I delight in your strength. Your eyes are on fire, there is something of the predator in them, and I have never wanted to be the hunted like I do now. Everything about you is menacing, everything about you makes me shiver, I push myself towards you and you grab my hips and plunge yourself forcefully into me. My small frame is bursting with your huge aching hard-on, you stay there, deep inside me, motionless except for your breathing, as I rock myself backwards and forwards on your cock, making small indistinguishable sounds.
You have no mercy as you drive into me, hard and deep, pushing my legs further apart, I cry out, my back arching, and I watch your cock rubbing against my wetness, covered in my juices. I push myself towards you, begging for your possession, as you drive yourself back into me with a sudden hard, rough, forceful thrust, your powerful hands holding me tightly around the waist, your body pushing me further onto the desk with every stroke, your cock burying itself deep inside my clenching cunt, and I am fucking you back, begging you to fuck me harder, shouting your name, wrapping my legs around your back to pull you deeper into me.
My eyes are wide, my body is shaking and my mind is spinning, our eyes never lose contact as you continue to thrust into me, forcing me to look into your intense eyes as your thick hard cock fucks me, your hands squeezing the flesh of my breasts, kneading my tender skin and pinching hard on my taut pink nipples as yet another orgasm rips through my body, and I feel your hips jerk against me, your incredible cock jump and swell before you eventually erupt sending your cum deep up inside me.
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