I don't know what possessed me to get involved with him. When we met, I found him arrogant, conceited, and an obvious womanizer. He was at the bar meeting a friend of mine for Christ's sake. The typical bad boy that every woman says she doesn't want, but is, in reality, practically dripping to have. But he was gorgeous, with a great body, and I was determined to end a very long, very frustrating dry spell.
So, against my better judgment, I embarked on a campaign to get him into my bed. I flirted, teased, promised, and sent naughty text after naughty text. In hindsight, I feel moderately guilty for aiding in the process of ending his relationship at the time, but she was a horrid, mousy thing; really unworthy of such a charismatic, wildly sexual man. Wink, wink.
Anyway, after a couple of weeks I had succeeded in my efforts, and he proved to be a stellar lover. I'd oftentimes stop by one of his job sites and would in short order find myself pressed against a wall upstairs with my panties around my ankles while he fucked me mercilessly from behind. He was a tireless lover, and these quick, vicious orgasms were amazing and left me drained and satisfied, albeit, craving more.
The few nights I spent in his bed were quick as well. An hour, two tops, but they always ended happily for both of us, with his hand clamped tightly over my mouth so his roommate wouldn't hear my cries of release. He often told me I should learn to be quiet. But I loved listening to him as he pounded his own sweaty way toward orgasm, his face tight with concentration until that final moment when he would fill my pussy, his own throaty cries inevitably making me spasm again.
But I haven't even mentioned his cock; eight inches of gorgeous, cut , pulsing flesh. So beautiful, and always eager for my touch. Occasionally, I'd tease him under the table at our favorite bar until we'd escape to the car, drive to a secluded parking lot where I would slide my lips over him for a few brief moments until we'd struggle from our clothes. Then, in sudden, sweet relief he'd bend me over the center console and take my ass, making me cum nearly instantly. I loved having his hands wrapped around my neck while we fucked, enjoying the dominance he displayed while he used my body.
But my favorite, of all our encounters, took place in my bed, under my control. So rarely do I take a dominant role, but I was eager to please him. I remember wanting him to remember what I could do for and to him. For him to wake up some night sweating with thoughts of that day, making him masturbate to a fast, heaving climax with me on his mind.
So I dressed in a sexy little baby doll number with a satin robe and waited impatiently for him to arrive. He came straight from work, smelling gloriously of healthy male and kissed me immediately, his appreciation evident in his roaming hands and the bulge in his jeans. I laughed, pushing him toward the shower, but stood at the door watching him as he showered, his hands soaping his dick teasingly, making me more and more aroused.
I turned, smiling, to walk to the bedroom to prepare. He followed a few moments later, dressed casually; he always knew how much I loved undressing him. I removed his shirt slowly, kissing him, running my tongue along his neck and around the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder against my mouth. He reached for me impatiently and I casually slapped his hands away, laughing.
"No touching," I reminded him, scolding. He shrugged his assent, but trembled with the effort to stay still.
