Sweet Caroline

For all intensive purposes, Sunday's are considered a day of rest, at least when I'm not working the dead end shift at the local bookmakers. Though a cigarette has never been lit on the premises, the smell of tobacco wafts in the air, mixing with the damp of the hissing air conditioning and the sour tang of a dozen body odours. Brushing shoulders with the bottom feeders of this sleepy town could be more than enough to stem the blood flow; if not for her; if not for the fire that rages in my loins at a single glance.

For four years I've worked beside her in the crowded office space, close enough for her round, peach of an arse to brush my crotch at every passing, the kind of passing I make sure to happen a dozen times a day. Caroline is her name - Oh, sweet Caroline - at least a guy can dream, and I do.

She's a 5'2" brunette with piercing blue eyes and even sharper wit, and a body that flows and curves in all the right places. The kind of body you wish you had eight hands to fully explore. Her breasts, her arse, her thighs, her hips. There are times that we flirt so seductively that I can almost taste her moist pussy in the air.

One thought of her heaving cleavage through her gaping buttoned blouse sends a swift pulse through my cock, my sleeping member now a raging hard on, throbbing against the waistband of my skinny fit denim jeans. To any onlooker there would be little left to the imagination, though on this Sunday I find myself whiling away the time at home, my wandering hand slipping under my belt to allow my cock to grow long and stiff against my toned abs. This isn't the first time I've found myself hard at the thought of her, and whipping off my leather belt in one quick jerk, this wouldn't be the first time I've cum over her either.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I feverishly unbutton my jeans and push them over my thighs and calves to rest around my ankles. As I hunch close to my pulsing cock, I can already smell the pre-cum that oozes from my red tip, sore from days of wildly tugging my dick to multiple climaxes, over more than just the thought of her bending over the work safe, and forcefully pulling down her jeans to ram my cock deep inside her tight pussy. Thoughts of her outrageously hot body don't quite cut it any more; I need the real deal, or at least the next best thing.

With one hand I grasp tightly around my thick shaft, feeling my erratic heartbeat thumping against my sweaty palm, while in the other I begin to cycle through my phone. The routine has become all too efficient; I know what I want; I know what I'm hungry for. I should feel a way about it, yet as I click on her name at the top of my Facebook searches, her profile picture appears and already my wrist begins to jerk at my cock, as if her eyes are begging for my cum, exactly as I imagine her at this very moment.

I scroll through her albums with effortless ease, it's not like I don't know where to find the pictures that get me off the most, if anything, I'm surprised I haven't got them saved to my phone. In truth, I know how depraved my actions are, and just remembering how much I'm violating her makes my whole body shudder with pleasure.

My thumb halts at an image of her in a figure hugging red dress, her hair curled upon her shoulders and her legs going on for absolute days, ending in a pair of black six inch heels. I bet she could still touch her toes if she tried. My body shudders again as my wrist quickens and I pant after her ample breasts, tits I long to shoot my heavy load over.

"Cum for me, baby," I hear her beg, her voice low. Seductive. "Cum all over these tits, baby,"

My pace quickens further at the thought of covering her in a sticky mess, my arm jerking so hard that I feel the friction of my moist fingers warm against my smooth shaft.

Fuck, I'm gonna cum, I think to myself, and still she begs at my feet. With a swipe of the thumb, my phone screen settles on a close up of her face, her eyes popping with a generous application of black eyeliner and her pink lips, pert and full, are so ready to be around my cock. I can tell she wants my cum down her throat and already I feel the sensation building from the base of my dick.

"Cum on my face you fuckin' stud," she pleads before me. How can I fucking resist?

The sensation shoots through my entire shaft. My body shakes. My lungs release a heavy groan, and without another breath, my cock releases it's hot, white load all over her face, all over my phone.

One spurt... Two spurts... Three spurts... Each one shooting my juice all over her perfect smile, as I trickle down her face from her hair to her chin, covering her in all my lust and desire.

"Fuck!" I sigh through laboured breath as my cock continues to ooze over my firm thighs.

Even as I sit here, the moment passing and my cock relaxing into my lap, she smiles back at me with innocence in her eyes. Will she ever know the things I do to her? The things I want to do to her?

As if on cue, my phone lights up in my hand with a text from Caroline herself.

"Still fancy going out tonight? X" it reads with a kiss. My cock twitches. Tonight we'd arranged to meet up for a game of Pool at a local bar, our favourite hang out after work. I quickly wipe away the cum from my screen and type my response.

"Sounds good, what time you thinking? X"

Almost instantly my phone lights up again.

"18.00? X" Only thirty minutes from now - I note - not enough time to shower and wash away what I've just done. Perfect, I think to myself.

"See you then X" I respond finally, pulling on a fresh pair of skinny blue jeans and a black hoodie, not even taking the time to clean my oozing cock. I wonder if she'll know what I've just done.

* * *

I arrive at the bar a little before 18:00, the idea of arriving fashionably late fading with the brisk walk over, I'd be thanking myself for it a couple of drinks later, I'm sure.

It doesn't surprise me to find her already waiting. As she steps out of her car I instantly feel a twinge inside my jeans. Her voluminous hair is tied back in a tight ponytail, turning her head to one side in such a way that flicks her hair hypnotically. I can't believe what this woman does to me. Walking over I can see she's wearing a pair of blue jeans and a floral black top. A kind of confident sexiness exudes from her body with each and every step. I wonder if she can see me adjusting my hardening cock beneath my heavy winter jacket.

"Hey," she smiles warmly. She has no idea I'm hard, which makes it even hotter.

"Hey, trouble," I smile back, longing to hug her but cautious of the raging party inside my jeans, instead we enter the bar, order a round of drinks - an orange and passionfruit for her and a pint of Fosters for me - and head straight to our regular table.

She tells me about her day; a series of short meetings at work and how she almost cancelled on the night, but wasn't sure what persuaded her otherwise. I have the perfect reason pressing against my waistband, but I keep it to myself, while I'm honestly glad she found her own reasons not to cancel.

Before long, we find ourselves a handful of games into the night when things begin to heat up at the table.

"Fancy stepping up your flirting game anytime soon?" she hints with a glint in her eye. She lines up a shot at the end of the table, bending a full ninety degrees with her legs as straight as the pool cue itself. Being as petite as she is, her large DD breasts press against the green felt as she presents her arse for my eyes to see and my cock to hunger. If only she knew the ideas that ran through my head, that had been running through my head over the years of playing. The absolute frustration I had building inside me.

I imagined grabbing her by the hips from behind and quickly tugging her jeans to her ankles, in fact, in my vision she wore a skirt with no underwear, but in this instance my mind made accommodations. Often she wouldn't struggle, but sometimes I imagined her protesting profusely, which I immediately saw an end to by grabbing the back of her head and thudding her face onto the table, completely disorienting her. In her stunned state, I would kick her legs apart, remove my stiff cock from my jeans and begin to fuck her pussy over the table. I even saw myself breaking a cue in half and holding the splintered end to her neck, in case any bright ideas flooded her brain, before using the rounded end to violate her tight little arsehole. She'd bravely mentioned in the past about her ultimate fantasy being a DP threesome with two guys, and she'd even give me first choice of where to fuck her. However, I have very different ideas, because I want every beautifully moist hole all for myself.

As easy as you like, she jerks on the pool cue and sends the white ball crashing into a lonely red, guiding it cleanly into a corner pocket. Fuck, that's hot, I think to myself. The white ball rests against the cushion in front of me as I sit perched on a bar stool just a couple of feet from the table, and as casually as she likes, she struts over to the ball and begins to bend over again, her beautifully round arse pushing back into my lap, slowly and carefully, before glancing over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye.

"You paying attention?" she asks suggestively, before setting up her next shot. It's not lost on me the time she spends pushing against my lap. All i can do is bite my lip as I feel my cock desperate to be inside her, and I wonder for a moment if she's trying to feel me hard. Even after playing her shot, she sits back on me in my stool, and all I can do is put my hands on her waist. I feel her warm to the touch, and I can't help but trace my fingers down her hips and her thighs, where she breathes a soft groan. Just as my cock threatens to burst through my jeans, she stands and walks away, accentuating the motion of her hips. "Your turn." she calls back without looking. Fuck, she's such a tease.

The night continues the same way as game after game she takes her opportunities to push back into my lap on the stool and we up the distractions by following one another around the table. I follow her gaze and stand by the pocket of her choosing, watching as her eyes are drawn to my hands in my jeans, or we stand close to one another, deliberately positioning ourselves in such a way that makes it difficult to manouveour a shot without brushing against the other. My ear against her cleavage. My hands on her hips. My thoughts of cumming for her earlier at the forefront of my mind. Oh, how badly I want her on her knees now, to cum over her face and designer glasses as she begs for my seed. But all that will sadly have to wait. The biggest frustration of the night comes as last orders are called. How time has got away from us.

Outside, I watch as she takes a cigarette and puts it to her soft pink lips, it's not what I'd hoped to see round her lips tonight but I soak it in either way.

"Did you have fun tonight?" She asks less than innocently.

"The fun definitely softened the blow of losing," I answer, leaning closer as she gently purses her lips to breathe a wisp of smoke. Standing face to face, we share a wanting gaze. I want to kiss her. I want to brush my hand against her cheek, pull her in close and feel her moist lips against my own. The orange of her drink and the taste of her cigarette lighting a fusion of smokey zest on my tongue. I can already feel my lips tingling with anticipation. Yet as I linger for a moment longer, my phone buzzes in my pocket, cutting though the sexual tension. The moment passes.

"Oh, is there any chance I can make a quick call?" she asks, already reaching her hand into my pocket and deliberately lingering longer than necessary, her breath warm against my neck as she rummages for what I know is within easy grasp.

"Is your phone dead?" I query, almost cheek to cheek, before she pulls away with my phone in hand.

"No," she smiles cheekily, before tapping away at the screen and putting the phone to her ear.

As she makes her call, casually disregarding the number to whomever is on the other line, I can't help but picture the moment from earlier, when I'd cum like a fountain all over the very screen she now held pressed against her flush cheeks. How close she was to smelling, to tasting, to wearing my cum all down her gorgeous face. I felt myself stiff, desperate for stimulation to splurge every kind of frustration I'd felt from this evening, however, wherever she would take it. However, wherever the fuck I wanted to give it to her.

"Thanks," she says, handing back my phone and deliberately dragging her nails across my hand on the release, I grit my teeth but say nothing, the swelling in my jeans peaking at an all time high. If I'm not careful, I'm going to cum right here. "Text me tonight," she offers finally, walking over to her car. Does she want me to look? Does she want me to follow?

Before I have chance, she gets into the car and drives away, blowing a kiss from her open window.

I watch as the tail lights disappear out of view, rooted to the spot that I stand.

"I'm gonna make you mine, Caroline," I declare aloud, before I walk home, digesting everything that happened that evening, ready to cum for her again that very night.