Fight Night

When the count is finished and the fight ends, you stroke my thigh and gently press my knee cap with your thumb and little finger. People are starting to stand, shouting, swearing – sweat is rolling off the ring and we're near enough to smell it. You've won a bit of money, but your gesture means you want out of this crowd and home, soon. The money can wait until tomorrow. We stand, I grab my purse and you ease me into my jacket, resting palms possessively on my shoulders for just a moment.

Holding my hand protectively, you start navigating the throng. It never takes as long as it seems it should, leaving ten thousand people in your wake, and before I know it, the valet is handing over your keys and opening my door.

The house is dark when we get back, but after the noise and stimulation, you keep things dim and calm. You leave me at the threshold and walk across the room to turn on the table lamp next to your favorite chair. When you flick the switch, we are swimming in a dusky yellow pool of light and I shut the door behind me. You sit down and pull a cigar out of your pocket. You watch my breasts rise and strain as I shrug off the jacket, toss it over a chair and walk to the sideboard.

You light the cigar and I pour us each a whiskey. The low light shimmers off the silk of my dress, a dress a 50s Hollywood starlet could have worn. It's tight at the waist, flares around my hips and pulls in again with a little swish at my knees. All night, as we've walked on sidewalks, through doorways, into foyers, and down staircases, you've felt the silk under your fingers as you gently placed a hand in the small of my back, on the crest of my hip, or cupped my ass. In this light, the shadows reveal my curves perfectly and by the time you exhale the first puff of your cigar, your balls are starting to wake up.

I turn and bring the drinks over, I hand you one and take a sip of my own, standing in front of you. You put the glass down, clamp the cigar between your teeth and grab me with both hands behind my knees. You stroke me, the plump curvy perfection of my calf muscles nestling inside your palms. I let out a sigh and teeter closer on my heels, until one of your knees is between my legs, which are straining against the cinching hem of the dress. I down the rest of my drink in one swallow and place the glass next to yours.

You push the dress up my thighs, it feels like satin feathers, and as the seams start to strain the closer it gets to my hips, I can feel wetness pulse out of my cunt. I am breathing heavier now, the smoke from the cigar adding to my lightheadedness. The odor of tobacco is strong, but you can smell the salty sweetness of my pussy anyway.

Reaching up, you grab the lace of my panties and yank them down. All the air is released from my lungs in a whimper. The panties drop and I lift a foot to kick them aside. You take the cigar in one hand and the other goes straight for my crotch. Your thumb finds my clit in seconds and you press and release, stroking up and down. You penetrate me with your middle finger and start searching for that tiny patch of rough. When you find it I moan with a hard throatiness.

My knees are trembling as each curl of your finger brings me closer. You look up at me, puffing on your cigar, immensely pleased with yourself. I look down through my lashes and smile at the picture of manliness before me, letting out a small indulgent giggle. You decide to fuck me with another finger and as my clit rises like a raspberry in it's hardness, you inhale, put the cigar down and grab the front of the dress. You clutch the fabric against my belly and blow smoke across my thighs and plump pink pussy. You press your lips into the softness just above my pelvis, kissing right where the fingers inside tell you to.

My back arches and as the cascade of warmth runs down my legs and up into my tits, my thighs spasm and I collapse, moaning, into your lap. I lie panting for a few seconds, sweat starting to curl tendrils in my hair. You pet my head, running the odor of my cunt through the satin waves, and wait for me, a pile of pulsing, kittenish softness, to find the stamina to take your cock inside my mouth.

Your dick is hard awake against my breasts, and my ear, pressed against your abdomen hears your heart starting to pound faster; I feel a gentle insistence as you fondle my hair and regain my focus. I lean back and teasingly stroke your thighs, giving you a long glance of my flushed and swollen breasts, rising out of the straps and folds of the dress; you reach out and run your knuckles over my tits then push your fingertips into the neckline and tweak my nipples free. I undo your belt, unbutton your pants and pull down your zipper.

I am gentle and careful when I pull your cock into the light, holding the base encircled in my tiny fist. My mouth opens slightly and the slip of pink tongue emerges while I pause a moment and contemplate your dick. I am rather fond of it, and feel that I am responsible for properly managing its happiness. In that moment my mouth becomes as wet as my pussy and when I lean down to take a long lick up the divine line, trails of silky, viscous fluids from my body begin to coat you.

The wetter it gets the faster my hands and tongue move, I lick and kiss and take you inside my mouth and down, deep into my throat. I make tiny noises of delight that radiate down your shaft as I feel the full throbbing essence of you. Breathing hard, you put the cigar between your lips and run both hands through my hair, you do not grab my head, but your strokes guide me.

The cigar between your lips is silky smooth, my hair and dress rustling against your body are the same impossible slippery softness. My mouth and tongue are softer still; it feels like the entire universe is caressing you. As I leverage up and down your cock, arching my back and raising my pussy in the air, more out of primal instinct than any necessity, you see the beautiful silk-encased voluptuousness of my ass, silhouetted in the table-light against the dark room.

You think of all the men who glanced longingly at my body tonight, the two college boys who turned to watch me walk down the street, the maitre-d who escorted us to the table, your friend who congratulated you in an undertone while watching me walk to the ladies room, everyone who saw me navigate the stairs at the fight in my heels, and the valet who waited to see my legs spread as I got in the car. Every glance inspired a possessive gesture, your arm at my waist proudly claiming my body as your property and yours alone.

"Show me your ass" you say. I obey, holding your cock in my mouth and using my hands to pull the dress up higher. The fabric stretches in an attempt to surmount the voluptuousness of my hips. More stitches pop and then, all of a sudden the silk is bunched around my tiny waist and my ass is free and jiggling slightly in the warm glowing light. God it's beautiful, you think. You slide a hand down my back and run it across each spectacular mound. You slap me playfully and cup my cunt, pulling wetness towards you. I moan and suck and you take your now lubricated baby finger and gently insert it in my rectum – it flares and tightens. I pause stroking your cock, moan deeply, and you murmur "later" a moment before you cum in my mouth.

I swallow you down then rise and, without adjusting my dress, turn and leave the room. You watch me go. I reach the bathroom, take off my shoes, and strip. I wash the smoke and sweat off my body, a little sad to feel the tangible impress of your caresses disappear. It is a long, hot shower and when I get out, I can hear the TV. I towel off, wrap myself in a robe and wander into the hallway. You are watching sports highlights and slowly finishing your drink.

I reach the bedroom and drop the robe on the floor. I pull the covers back, mount the bed on all fours, and stretch my naked body out like a cat. I brush my tits against the fabric and press my nose into the sheets. I can smell your smell and I roll around in it. I settle on my back and pull a pillow down, lifting my hips and sliding the pillow up under my ass. I spread my legs wide and grasp the sheets with my toes as I start stroking myself.

My fingers do not feel as good as your fingers did, but they bring back the memory, and the flow of warm wet fluid. I play with myself, waiting for you. Minutes later, when I hear the TV click off, a pulse of anticipation makes my pussy quiver and when you appear at the door and your eyes lock on my body, I am writhing and breathing shallowly, my skin a dusky pink. You stand at the end of the bed, drop your pants and ask, in a command: "Do you want me to fuck you?". I swing my knees in and out and answer impertinently "I think maybe I do..."

You chuckle, very delighted at the sight of me. You place your palms inside my knees and spread my legs further rubbing my thighs as you lean in and bury your face in my pussy, taking a long lick up and down. But I have been waiting too long not to feel the entire fullness of your cock inside me. I moan and gasp and chortle impatiently "in! in! in!" You are rock hard in an instant and kneel down and thrust a second later.

I am wriggling and bucking, completely overcome. It is almost alarming. You place a hand under each of my throbbing tits and hold me down on the bed. You thrust hard several times and set the pace, my legs twitching in ecstatic obedience each time your mass reaches full impact. You ease for a moment and gently suck my nipples, soothing me, then your cock presses on with its relentless stimulation. My eyes are fluttering and my rolling head undoes my hair against the bed in a mass of dampness. My arousal is far, far advanced and there is no pulling me back or slowing me down.

You press my pussy into the pillow and rub your pelvis against me with each thrust, as you withdraw, you make me gasp, almost weeping until your cock knocks against that tiny magic place. When I cum, with my legs curled up and my back arching, you pull out and flip me over.

Now the pillow is under my belly and my ass and pussy are up in the air, on display. I am dripping wet and you can see my labia pulsing. My panting is muffled in the mattress, but my lungs fill and release and my body is a puddle of warm compliant jelly. You are still hard and press your cock against the dripping wetness and the tiny tremors, up and down, the tip and the shaft, coated in the most perfect lubrication.

Both your hands encircle my waist, thumbs pressing just above my ass, and I know what's coming next. You take the tip of your cock, wet from pooling in my juices, and tap the tiny back door. It flexes and you push inside. I whimper and grasp the sheets with my hands and let my body fall completely under your control.

You feel like god. The ring of tightness surrounds you and all of me is entirely at your command. You pull my hips higher in the air and I buck until you weigh me down and tame me with your own thrusting. Finally, your shallow breathing and controlled moans turn into outright gasping and grunting. I whimper and you press my body into the bed, running your hands down my arms and clasping your fingers through mine – if I feel pain, you will know it through my hands.

My body is covered by yours and in the heat, you are certain I am taken. This is the moment of greatest power, but it will not last. Release requires you give in to the feeling completely and loose control. Only in this position, can you do that without fear. You would never let me see you vulnerable, face-to-face.

I am only a girlfriend half your age, one in a long line of women that have pleased or tormented you. I see pleasure cross your face when I have your cock in my mouth and delight when you fuck me missionary, but you hide any hint of desperate desire from my eyes.

The visceral, guttural grunting I hear over my shoulder now, in this position, the straining muscles in your arms, and your cheek rubbing the nape of my neck with a moan, are all the hints I have that you know a moment of real desire -- that there is a time when you need to be inside me more than you need to be your own man.

You will spread your semen in my mouth, and shortly, in my ass, but you will not seed my womb and submit yourself to some imperative that is not your own. You gush inside me and for a moment awaken my instincts to be bonded to a man, to be impregnated. My cunt is empty but the weight of you as you collapse on me, tremble and hold my breasts in one last moment of heated connection overwhelms any sense of loss.

You pull out, and roll to the side, but keep your cock against my thighs. We lie in the darkness, and I am encased in your body, protected. You are between me and the door. Only a faint light from the table lamp in the other room reaches me, illuminating the curve of my hip, throwing my belly into deepest shadow. You stroke the gently glowing flesh and fall asleep, your hand resting on its claim.