I Finally Meet the Boy

Not a fan of waiting. Seriously, I hate it. I even arrived a few minutes late in the hopes he would've already been here, but nope.

My eyes scan the dimly lit bar, looking for any sign that he's here, while I awkwardly fidget in my seat. Yeah, I'm that girl, uncomfortable around other people, hell, I'm uncomfortable in my own skin.

Not a single person in here comes close to looking like him, so I turn my attention back out the window. I'm glad I chose this table, at least I've got something to look at, other than everyone else's fun.

God I'm so nervous. I feel like once you've been talking to someone for this long, without actually meeting, there's a high chance of someone being let down. I was terrified he wouldn't like me in real life. But now, as the minutes tick by, it's looking more likely that I'm being stood up.

My paranoia is getting the better of me, I can't shake the feeling of being watched. I don't know why, or what's making me feel this way, but the thought still sends shudders up my spine. I anxiously swirl the final few drops of whiskey remaining in my glass, damn, I really didn't want to be on my second drink before he's arrived.

"Excuse me," A deep voice comes from over my shoulder, I jump a little, "is this seat taken?" Not him. Fuck. Where is he? Checking my watch tells me I've already been waiting twenty minutes, so I decide to go ahead and order another drink. If he's not here by the time I'm finished, I'm outta here.

As always though, the whiskey makes me feel all hot and flushed. I remove my long, black coat and hang it over my chair.

I really struggled to know what to wear tonight. Not very often am I headed out, purely for the purpose of sex. I'm quite glad I didn't go with my original idea, though it did sound fun; the coat, with nothing but lingerie underneath.

The lacy black bra and panties from that thought are still under there, just covered up, mostly.

Pretty sure I nearly tried on my whole wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit.

The V neck of my long sleeved, grey dress reveals just enough cleavage, along with a tiny hint of lace, and the tightfitting, clingy fabric shows every curve I own. The modest hemline coming down over my knees and clinging to my calves, makes me feel a little secretary-esque.

The heels on my black ankle boots make a strange noise against the bar's sticky floor, my nerves beginning to emerge in the form of foot tapping. I can't stand this. Every time the door opens, I flinch, flinging my head around in it's direction. It's beginning to look quite obvious, even to everyone around me, that I'm being stood up. The bartender keeps sending me fake sympathy looks. Shit. I should never have said I was waiting for someone.

Fuck this, I'm not hanging around any longer. The 'feel sorry for the lonely girl' stares are growing old, and the lingering feeling of being watched is getting creepier by the second. Goosebumps prickle across my skin at the thought. I finish the rest of my glass in one swallow, sending a fuzzy warmth down to my belly.

"Aww, you off?" Sympathetic asshole, I mean, the bartender, says. I give him a quick nod, smiling as I walk out the door. But on the inside, I'm giving him a double middle-fingered salute.

As I exit the doors, and cross the carpark to my car, I notice a tall, dark figure, standing next to it. I turn my head, looking every direction, are there any people around? If I scream, will anyone hear me? The music cranking from the bar would probably drown me out.

"Hi," The almost menacing tone to his voice startles me, "you look beautiful."

It's not until he steps out of the shadow, that I realise. It's him.

"Come with me." His firm voice compels me to follow. Probably not my brightest idea, but he takes my hand, and I go with it.

The way his large hand grips mine, possessive, yet comforting. He's not leaving any wiggle room for me to get away. It sends a wave of need through my veins. Not a need to escape though. A need, for him.

We come to a stop in the dark alleyway behind the bar, "What are we doing?" I ask, I should be more afraid than I am, but instead, the fear is only adding to the growing wetness between my legs.

"Shhh," He whispers, pushing me backwards. I thud against the cold concrete wall, and he steps towards me. I consider running. Yelling. Screaming. No, none of those would work, I want this just as bad as he does.

Grabbing both of my hands, he raises them above my head, holding them tightly with only one of his. A test wriggle confirms his strength is too much for me. There's no escaping, even if I wanted to.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," His voice gruff, breathing deeply as his lips come within an inch of mine, "I bet you feel the same." Our lips touch, but only for a moment before he continues down my neck. "I know one way to find out." He says, running his free hand down my body, stopping briefly at the hem of my dress.

His hand tugs upwards at the hem, just enough to allow him access to my inner thigh. He slowly drags his fingers up my flesh, it tickles, making me squirm. A deep, menacing chuckle escapes his mouth. I draw in a deep breath as his fingers graze across the damp fabric of my underwear.

"Mmm," He says, "just as I thought. Dirty girl." His fingertips slide into the waistband, slowly drawing my panties down to my ankles. I try to shake them off, but he aggressively stops my leg, "No, leave them there."

Still with a firm hold on my hands, he returns his attention to my, now exposed, centre. His middle finger drags up the slit, collecting my wetness before circling my clit.

"Oh god," I moan, which only encourages his gentle touching to become more frenzied. Two of his large fingers delve inside me, and I gasp each time they reach peak depth.

"You like that, don't you, dirty girl?" His question requires no answer. My body's reaction gives him all the information he needs. "Let's see just how much you enjoy it," he pulls his soaking wet digits from my pussy, up to my lips, "suck them clean."

Sweet, yet salty, I'm not unfamiliar with the taste of myself. I take my time, licking, sucking, ensuring he knows just how deep I will take his cock in my mouth if given a chance.

"Good girl," He exhales, "I'm going to let your hands go now. I want you to face the wall, both palms are to stay flat against it. Understood?"

I nod.

"I didn't hear you?" The tone of his voice tells me now is not the time for mucking around.

"Yes, sir, I understand."

The concrete block wall is freezing under my hands, sending shivers throughout my body, my nipples stiffening instantly. His hands take hold on my hips, pulling my ass backwards and bending me in half, in one swift movement. He uses a foot to spread my legs to his desired stance, stretching the lace panties further than I thought possible. I feel my coat and dress lifting, entirely exposing my lower half, and I hear the distinct sound of a zipper.

And then, nothing.

No obvious sounds or movement coming from directly behind me. When I concentrate, I hear voices in the background, chatting, giggling, the bass from the music pumping back in the bar, and road noise. However, nothing I'm listening for.

I want to speak out, but, I know he's the one in control here. I don't dare ruin the dynamic. At least a minute passes before I hear another sound. A condom wrapper. My pussy throbs at the thought. I need to feel him inside me.

The gust of cool air precedes his presence behind me, and the first touch I feel of his, are two palms running across my lower back, and down to my ass. He grabs two overflowing handfuls, spreading me open, before landing a stinging slap across my right cheek. "Mmm," He grumbles, "what a sight you are."

With one hand steadying himself, he guides his cock to my desperate opening. I arch my back, trying to push onto him, fuck waiting any longer, I want him to fill me. Now. And he does. Sliding all the way in one thrust. God he feels amazing. Grasping at my hips, his cock roughly slams into me. Deep. Deeper. Fuck.

Reaching forward, he tangles his hand a fistful of my hair, pulling my head backwards as his tempo increases. I struggle to contain the noise escaping my lips. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I moan loudly as I feel myself close to orgasm.

"Shhh." He orders, reaching down to rub my clit as he continues the relentless pace.

Ten seconds of that and I'm overtaken by a wave of pleasure, "Ohh," I scream as the climax takes hold, but my mouth is suddenly covered by a large hand, and feeling that only adds to the intensity. Luckily it muffles the noise just in time. My pussy clamps down around his cock, over and over as the orgasm ripples through my body.

"Fuck," He says, "I'm getting close. But I want to see you when I come." Suddenly, I feel empty. The withdrawal of his dick is jarring, and I instantly miss his thickness filling me. "Hands off the wall, panties off, turn around." He's turning me before my brain can catch up. Pushing me against the wall, his mouth meets mine. His tongue enters my mouth at the same moment his hands are under my ass lifting me to alignment, and before I know it, his cock is buried back inside me, where it belongs.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, he takes his time, slowly, deeply, every stroke is meaningful. I bite my lower lip as he nibbles down to my shoulder. My hands link together behind his neck, pulling him in closer, "You feel so good." I whisper.

"Oh, shit," He says, his normally steeled voice strained with desperation, while his thrusts get rougher by the second, "I'm gonna cum." I look into his eyes, dark and consumed with lust.

The tight fit of his cock allows me to feel every pulse of his release. I smile. It's always a good feeling, bringing a man to orgasm.

"So," I begin, heading back in the direction of my car, "should we do this again sometime?"

"I'll think about it." He says, with a mischievous smirk.