Sam Says: on Your Nees

The bar was quiet despite all the laughter, loud conversation, background music, and various sounds of glass and cutlery coming together. It was quiet because my brain was quiet, separate from the vitality around me. I felt like a spectator watching the world go round as my mind retreated into a passive disenchantment, like I was metaphorically sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions of an overused couch as I watched mundane images flutter on a television screen. The hum of boredom filled my ears and a blank stare kept my eyelids heavy.

A drunken man in a checkered shirt walked up to me; I saw him coming and rolled my eyes before he arrived, hoping that a signal of my utter disinterest would discourage him. Of course, it didn't.

"Hey, little lady."

Little lady. Indeed, that's what I was. Small in size, lean figure, lady-some attire. I was wearing a skimpy black dress and sleek heels, overdressed for the casual bar I was sitting at. The job interview I'd just come back from had made me feel out of place on so many levels; I'd walked out of the office and into the first alcohol-serving place I'd found. Might as well continue feeling out of place.

Shitty day, please get better.

It didn't look like it was going to. "No," I replied harshly to the man with the beer belly and bottle in hand, whose beard was dripping either saliva or alcohol or both.

"No?" He slurred, his breath informing me that he was way too drunk to get rid of with words.

"Leave me alone."

"But you... pretty girl... yeaaahhh..."

At least, I think that's what he said. As I'd expected, verbal abuse wouldn't unhook this hopeful drunk. He leaned in and I shuddered as I got smothered with smells. It was like slow motion, his unbalanced approach.

What is he doing? Is he trying to kiss me?

I wasn't about to wait and find out. I grabbed the dirty martini I'd just ordered and triumphantly emptied it onto his head. He let out a strange sound of surprise and contempt, looked at me with rage in his eyes, and stumbled as my right fist made contact with his jaw. "I said leave me alone, asshole."

This is not my fucking day.

I stood up and thanked the bartender, who was staring at me aghast, his jaw loose with surprise. Beer-man had been thrown off balance and made a mess of the bar, like a plane crashing through an unprepared runway. He then slowly and comically sunk to the floor.

If only my punches were this effective on sober men, too.

I took a quick look at the damage I'd inflicted on the bar and the bastard to see if anything was broken, hoping I would not be held up by complaints and compensation -I wanted to get home as soon as possible and get this dreary day out of my system. I hastily pulled a $20 bill out of my purse, left it on the wooden slab, and turned before I could notice any further comment. My heels made too much noise as I left, and I noticed I was a little shaken up by the sudden onset of action and the multitude of gazes and expressions that followed me out. As I stepped over the threshold, I couldn't resist one last look inside.

My eyes met something beautiful and I lingered before I registered what I was looking at. A guy I hadn't noticed, sitting in the far corner, was staring at me with... intensity? Some kind of intense expression, one I couldn't quite put my finger on. He was handsome: dark hair and seemingly colored eyes decorating an angelic face.

How did I not notice him before?

My attention was usually quick to be captured by attractive men. But this one seemed to have a knack for going unnoticed.

Not wanting to complicate my escape after having successfully walked out without any repercussions, I pulled my gaze away and embarked on my half hour walk home. I'd only taken about ten steps when I heard a door open and close. I looked over my shoulder and there he was, the black-haired man, walking towards me, just as I'd intuitively expected.

His expression struck me as alarmingly strange. I still couldn't put my finger on it, but it unsettled me; so I turned away despite myself and kept walking, my heart beat irregular in my ears. I took a sharp breath. As much as I wanted to be followed home by this pleasing specimen, my instincts were telling me to ignore the aesthetics and pay closer attention to the sirens going off in my head.

There's something not right about that look.

I kept walking. He kept walking. I started to panic.

Should I change my route? I don't want him to know where I live. Should I address him? Should I run? Should I scream? Should I hit him, too?

Should I embrace it?

No, I should not embrace it. If he's following me to fuck me, that's one thing. If he's hoping to bury me in his backyard, that's another. Those brilliant eyes will do me no good if I'm dead and dismembered.

Then it occurred to me that I was being exaggeratedly silly. I had assumed this man to be a serial killer because of a 'feeling' I had about a 'look' on his face. I slowed down my pace.

Fuck it; he's hot, I'm bored. If he's a creep, I've got pepper spray.

He walked right into me and almost knocked me over; I would have fallen flat on my face if he hadn't reflexively grabbed my arms at the last second. Bewildered, I turned and looked at him to find his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he began apologizing all over the place.

"Holy shit! I'm so sorry! I have no idea how that happened..."

My only reaction was to burst into loud laughter. He was even more stunned than I was that he'd almost flattened the girl he'd obviously been hoping to hit on.

"That's ok! What happened? Distracted?" I asked him, with a slight flirt in my voice that I was hoping he'd pick up on.

He looked down, shuffled his feet, and mumbled something.

Shy boy!

I didn't have time for shy boys. I giggled and touched his chest, "that's cute."

He looked back up at me intensely, his eyes burning into mine. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.

There was that look again.

So weird.

It was like he was spacing out, staring at me but seeing something else.

I figured I'd get straight to the point.

"What do you see when you look at me?" The question caught him by surprise. Snapping out of his daze, his eyes came back into focus and he looked at me silently. Deciding to take it further, I asked "Is it the same thing you were seeing when you accidentally walked into me?" Something about his expression was so creepy it turned me on.

I want him to give me that look as he nestles his face between my thighs.

After some hesitation, he must have concluded that I was, in fact, flirting. He finally spoke. "Yeah. Yeah, it's the same thing."

"What is it?"

Silence. Dreadfully long silence. I was getting impatient. I pulled him by the collar of his black shirt, which was rolled up elegantly at the sleeves. "Tell me," I half-whispered. He gasped with a slight shudder, and then look at me intensely again, finally convinced beyond all doubt that I wanted to drag him home.

"I see you punching that guy," he stated like a matter of fact.

Aha.

Now I got it; and now that I did, I could feel a similarly creepy expression take over my own face. I allowed my hand to glide slowly down his shirt and stop at the top of his belt buckle.

"That's not very nice of you. The poor man was drunk." I said, sharply. As I'd expected (or rather, was hoping), his excitement flared at being reprimanded.

Fuck yes! Lucky day.

Disregarding the fact that we were standing in the middle of a street (though not a crowded one by any means), I abruptly grabbed him between the legs, trying not to hurt him but making sure it was sudden and firm. His reaction was priceless. Utterly shocked, he inhaled sharply, his mouth open and appalled, his eyes then visibly shifting from surprise to lust as his pupils dilated and the softness in my hand hardened.

"Make it up to me." I demanded.

He nodded submissively, pushing forward slightly with his hips as though to give my fingers more access. I got a better grip and caressed. I looked around and spotted an alley.

That'll do.

With my free hand, I pointed. "Walk." I ordered, letting go of his (by now solid) package. Pained by his own excitement, he flinched and obediently began walking towards the alley. As much as he tried to pretend to be doing so somewhat against his will by walking slowly, I could see the figurative fireworks going off in his head. Walking behind him, I grabbed his ass as I realized how much taller he was than me.

Nice butt, too.

"I don't have all day, boy." I hurried him up. He quickened his pace, and as soon as we got to the corner I pushed him into the shadows.

He almost stumbled and stopped, then turned around to face me expectantly.

I pointed to his crotch, "pants down." He hastily unbuckled his belt and trousers, and pulled them down as his bulge became deliciously apparent beneath his briefs. "Those too, moron." I saw a slight smirk at the corners of his lips; he was trying so hard to hide his enjoyment. He was breathing fast, his chest rising and falling heavily as he pulled down his underwear and stood there with his naked erection pointing out from under his shirt.

Now that's a sight for sore eyes.

"Unbutton your shirt. Faster." He fumbled with the buttons and stood there bare-chested, hard, waiting, and teased.

"Good." I walked up to him until the tip of his dick brushed against me. I could see his fists clench as he tried to control the rush. I grabbed his shaft firmly and pulled downwards slowly, "on your knees, perv." He sunk to his knees, staring at me wide-eyed and excited. I lifted my dress and pulled my soft black undies to the side, watched his lips part as he saw how wet I was, and then grabbed his hair as I put a foot on his shoulder. He opened his mouth, knowing what was coming, and I pressed myself into his face, feeling his tongue rush in to get his first taste.

He started exploring, trying to get as much of my pussy into his mouth as possible, sucking and lapping up all the liquid that was flowing out of me as I moaned and pulled his face in deeper. He had both hands on my butt-cheeks, his fingers digging into my skin as he held onto me. I watched him enjoy himself;

nothing turns me on more than a guy who actually loves eating pussy.

"Oh you little dog!" I was grinding myself against him as he finally got to serious work, flicking my clit with his tongue as his fingers slid in from behind and started fondling my wet, swollen lips. He let a finger penetrate me and I pushed down on it, "more!" I yelled as he shoved in a second and started ramming me. I was tight around him and dripping wet; he was hungrily suckling and nibbling like he couldn't get enough of me.

"Good boy," I said, meaning to sound more firm than I did as I panted, soon after giving in to the urge to moan. I could feel the rush take over me, I was about to cum. I grabbed his head roughly, feeling animalistic as I screamed at him "that's right fucking eat my cum, suck me dry you little... fucking... bitch!"

The orgasm shook me and I felt my whole body shudder with pleasure. I pulled away from him abruptly and stared at him as I almost choked on my fast breathing. That's when I noticed that the little bitch had creamed himself.

"Did you fucking cum already?"

He stared at me silently, his cheeks, lips, and chin shining wet, breathing heavily, looking exhausted and used. He swallowed hard, before nodding meekly. I took a step towards him and slapped him across the face.

"And what about me? I'm not done yet. You fucking asshole."

"I can fuck you with my fingers.."

"I don't want your fingers. What was the point of showing me that cock? Just to tease me?" I slapped him again.

"I'm sorry."

I pulled his hair and dragged him forwards until he was on all fours. He looked at me worriedly, "what are you doing?"

"Stay like that." I took out my phone and snapped a picture of him, ass bared, dick loose. "You owe me real sex. You're gonna go buy a cock-ring or whatever you need to keep that dick hard for me, and then meet me at this address in three hours." Since I was new in town, I had my address saved on my phone. I showed it to him. "Memorize that."

"Ok, I've got it."

"If you don't show up I'm going to post that picture on the internet."

"I'll show up."

"If you show up and leave me less than satisfied it's gonna be even worse. So you better buy whatever you need. You know your dick. Do it right."

He smiled to me. I allowed myself a half-kind smirk.

"What's your name?" I asked, as he got off his hands and knees and stood up, pulling up his pants.

"Sean."

"Hey Sean. I'm Sam."

To be continued.