I can't take my eyes off of her...
She does nothing flashy, nor does she wear anything particularly enticing and she is nowhere near the youngest or "hottest" woman in the room. But she has a style and ease of movement that make your eyes follow her every gesture. I try not to stare, however I want desperately to catch her eye. Though I know, if those sparkling green orbs shine in my direction I will freeze in my chair. I'm not good at these encounters.
My name is Chris and hers I just learned, is Alexandra. We are both guests at a wedding reception for a couple that neither of us knows very well. I'm sitting at a table with employees or their spouses of the firm that the bride manages. The bride, a stuck-up bitch, is my boss and Alexandra is married to a senior member of my department. The plan around our table is that we peons stay until they cut the cake then we cut out to the hotel bar.
I came stag and the three other couples at the table are anxiously checking watches and plotting their escapes. The consensus is to return to our rooms, change clothes and meet at the bar in the lobby.
Alexandra's husband Tim must be ten years older than her which would make him about twenty-five years older than the rest of us. It's obvious from his demeanor and remarks that he does not want to be with us now and has no intention of joining us later.
His wife does her best to cover his rudeness and tries to meet and engage everyone in conversation. For myself, I'm just fascinated by her graceful, lady-like charms. Though it's my belief there is a hidden, devilish vixen inside of her. I watch her mouth as she listens to our work stories. Her smile is only half-hearted with the hint of laugh lines bracketing her full lips, and the gleam of straight, white teeth against her soft, warm tan. I am struggling to come up with something clever to say so that I can witness the full ninety-watt shine.
She is probably near forty years old, but her skin is firm and her cheeks are full. There are subtle creases at the rims of her almond eyes, and her mass of light-brown hair with golden highlights, is worn in a swirl atop her head. But now silky tendrils are beginning to loosen and lay gently on her slightly freckled shoulders.
She is sheathed in a forest-green dress that compliments her eyes, with sparkles on the bodice and a shimmering gold necklace that drops into her deep cleavage. The dress is not overly tight and is appropriately styled; it just seems to cling invitingly to her curves and tempts you to discover her secrets. She has an obvious elan that I'm guessing only serves to conceal a darkly-checkered past.
I was crestfallen when her husband took her hand and they made their excuses to leave. She mouthed some goodbyes and I watched as they disappeared through the crowded dance floor. Her shapely rear-end rolled seductively with each step in her four-inch pumps. I had the uneasy feeling that I would be thinking about Alexandra long after I crawled into the lonely double-bed tonight.
About two hours later I was still at the bar, the last of the people I knew had left. I was nursing a chilled whiskey and sipping an import, when I caught those green eyes in the mirror. "I was hoping someone I recognized would still be here, you're Chris right, I'm Alex." She extended a hand and I was captivated.
The thick mane of hair now cascaded down her back. At the reception it must have weighed a ton on her neck. She had touched-up her eyes and lips, and appeared ten years younger. She wore a loose white blouse and a lacy bra that strained to contain her bounty. Alexandra was not petite, maybe 5'9" and 150 pounds with rounded shoulders and thick waist. She was in faded jeans that clung to solid thighs and low-heeled sandals that revealed her pink polished nails.
I bought her a glass of Merlot and we moved to a table on the patio. When I mentioned her husband she shrugged her shoulders and said, "he finally passed-out, so I got dressed and came down. All he does is bitch and complain, let's talk about something else." I was living a dream. Our mundane conversation drifted from work to weddings, weather to wine. I was mostly smiling and nodding. In my mind I was reconstructing her past and imagining our future.
In my visions Alex was the woman who sat in the ladies circle, and slyly confessed to having been a stripper and had had multiple affairs with married men and sexy women. I could picture her at her sultry best. As I imagined it, Alex didn't openly flirt, that was much too vulgar, but her hand would linger an extra moment on your thigh while she told a story. When drinking a cocktail she would stir the concoction with her fingers then slowly lick the wet digits and slide them hypnotically into her mouth.
She had a deep whiskey-voice and a husky laugh that rose up suddenly and easily. She had a habit of raking her long fingers through her silky locks and arching her back to stretch. This raised her heavenly breasts to the limits of her flimsy shirt. The spaghetti straps barely hung on. The smoky voice and secretive tone lulled me into an erotic trance. I stared into those green pools of enchantment, the yellow highlights flashing in the candle light. Her mouth purred to me. I watched as her pink tongue delicately moistened her glossed lips as she spoke, and the expressive gestures of her long, thin fingers traced arcs in the air and then swept through her chestnut locks. Whatever she was saying, I heard something different. I knew in my mind, this seductress was coming-on to me.
My brain was drifting into an x-rated landscape of hedonism. I could certainly picture myself making Alex my sex slave. This scenario had appeared to me many times. A beautiful, desirable older woman in a loveless, sexless marriage, was dropping hints that she wanted to take me for her lover. In my fantasy she was falling under my spell. So desperate for just one night of passion, that she was ready to follow me anywhere and give-in to her reckless desires.
My thoughts were sliding towards decadence. Like a television with no sound, I found myself tuning-out Alexandra's words. I smiled at her and nodded knowingly but all the while I was studying her face , searching for the hidden clues to her surrender. My mind and body knew she wanted me. She was only waiting and hoping that I would make the move and capture her for my own, sending her into ecstasy. It was a dream too good to ignore. I scanned her expressive sea-green eyes picturing them dilate, her brows raise, as she takes inventory of my build. I am no longer lanky and pale. I'm broad-shouldered, tan and deeply muscled. She longs to feel me inside her and become prisoner to my every deviant wish.
Her pouty lips are always puckered, hoping to be kissed and she has a slight overbite that accentuates her full, blushing cheeks. Her luminous, pink lip gloss makes her look hungry and horny. My cock would look so good in her mouth that I could feel the warm, moist sensation. I needed to casually slide my hand under the table to rearrange the log-jam developing in my crotch. My swollen member was aching to be freed and to ravish this wanton MILF sitting so temptingly near.
I'm fairly certain that I was contributing intelligently to the conversation because she remained seated and laughed on occasion. But my mind was hearing her passionate desire and in my head she was pleading with me to seduce her. So though my physical body continued to sit and smile, my psyche responded with a BDSM fantasy. In steamy dream sequences like this, my reaction is always fast and firm.
I reached across the small table and grasped the front of her flimsy top. The material stretched at first and then ripped from her lovely body. My fingers were curled under her sheer bra as I tugged her to her feet and proceeded to drag her towards the elevators. "Follow me Alexandra," I commanded, "it's time to fuck!" I pulled her along by her bra-straps, her sandals tumbled from her feet. She attempted at first to cover her breasts with her hands and plant her bare feet in the carpet. But when she saw the determined, lustful look on my face she yielded willingly. Alex then hurried to keep stride as all eyes in the room turned to watch her humiliation. It was the loss of control that made her weak and fueled the wetness in her vagina.
She didn't care who looked or what was said, she knew only that she yearned to feel imprisoned and hungered for some wild sexual escapade. When the elevator doors opened, I ordered her inside and demanded that she kneel on the floor. We both took a second to peek back at the remaining bar crowd. Some of the men applauded or saluted while a few of the ladies flashed some envious smiles. The doors closed and I took over. It was apparent to me that she loved to be dominated and abused, and I was called on to possess her body and abase her for my pleasure.
My fantasy apartment was the penthouse suite, so up we soared. As the elevator climbed we had time to work our roles. I yanked the battered bra from her chest, scratching lines across her tits and demanded that she fish my stiff cock from my jeans. "Alright Alex let's see what you can do. How much discipline will you require? Suck me off like the dirty little bitch you are." She hastily went to work, fumbling with my belt and zipper. Her nervous energy excited me. When she loosed my gigantic cock her face lit up with lust. I twirled her long, shiny hair through my fingers, drawing her eager mouth to my straining organ. "You are a cheating whore and you need my cock to fulfil your lust. Suck my cock you dirty slut then beg me to fuck your trampy pussy." She went to work with great enthusiasm. Her only responses to my accusations were muffled grunts and moans as she slathered my cock with her saliva.
My rod was bulging in her hands as she fed it between her starving lips. Her spit quickly coated it's length and her delicate hands splashed and glided along my veiny pole. She choked a few times as I drove against the back of her throat and drool poured from her mouth, through coughing fits, dripping in long strings from her chin to the tops of her bare globes. "These tits are mine now, you whorey slut," I yelled as I squeezed them roughly and spread the slobber over them until they shined in the harsh light. She was getting into a good rhythm sucking it in and then tongueing the tip as she slid it out. We were both sweaty and making crude animal noises when the bell rang and the doors opened on the fourth floor. A young couple started to board when they saw the half-naked, older-woman on her knees with my cock in her mouth. They gasped at first, then hesitated and stepped back in amazement. Alexandra was startled but I kept a firm grip on the back of her neck, plunging harder. The doors closed and my blow-job recommenced without further interruption as the lift rocked back to motion.
When the car again stopped on the tenth floor, the bell didn't distract her. A man was about to enter when he spied Alex at my feet. The sweat was glistening on her curvaceous body and her hair was damp and tussled. I was twisting and pulling her nipples while spanking her big, wobbly tits. Her chest was red and soaked in perspiration. Her lipstick had smeared on her face and saliva bubbled-up and flowed copiously. It was not a beautiful look, but it was sexy as hell. My cock never slipped from her mouth as she gazed upon the stranger in the door. Her hand pumped furiously on my tool and her lips smacked and slurped on it's engorged head. I smiled and winked at the stunned onlooker. "C'mon in. She'll suck you, too. Won't you, my slut?"
