The Inga Chroncles Ch 02

Inga and her friends showed up at the club around 10PM, when the party was already in full swing. They'd taken extra time getting ready, their newly-tanned skin exposed by their sexiest outfits. Inga was wearing a black top that revealed the cool valley formed by her magnifient breasts. Eye contact might be a problem tonight, but getting attention from the boys wouldn't.

The club had a big dance floor inside, but most of the action was outside on the enormous wooden deck that projected out onto the beach. They went to the bar out on the deck and tried to buy a drink, but a quartet of relatively good-looking guys saw them walk up and insisted on buying the first round. Each of them took turns looking at Inga, and then her breasts, and in time one of them separated himself and started putting the moves on her.

Moves Inga found she wasn't much interested in. He was cute, a few years younger than her...but her body still hummed from the orgasm she'd had in that shower stall that afternoon. She was hungry to see him again, to put her hands on him, and her mouth. She felt a bit ashamed at how easily he'd taken control of her and done whatever he wanted to her body. She wanted to show him that she could wrap him around her little finger, just with a touch. And a lick.

The guy she was talking to touched her forearm and eased her into a chair, and just his touch made her pussy quiver. She was practically in heat, and she resigned herself to the fact that if her mystery man didn't show she would be fucking the brains out of this barely acceptable speciman before the night was done. She needed sex. She needed to fuck. She needed to be fucked.

And then, from across the room, she saw him walk in. He was with a dozen of his friends, guys and girls mixed together, and she nearly fell off her stool. He wore a pale blue Polo shirt that made his eyes leap out, and under her brassiere her nipples thickened until they ached and pressed against the fabric.

He looked over the room, let his eyes move from right to left...and when he saw her, his eyes locked on hers and stayed there. He didn't smile, or show any sign of recognition. But HOW he looked at her. Those blue eyes burned into hers and now her pussy was warm and humid and the man who was chattering away next to her was completely forgotten. The mere idea of this joker's penis slipping inside her was absurd. There was only one man who could have her tonight.

And he was on the other side of the bar. Inga kept up her end of the conversation, talking to the other guys and her friends, while her attention was completely fixed on the group across the way. From time to time the object of her desire would look over at her, but for the most part he talked and laughed with his friends. She wondered if he'd told them what happened that afternoon. For some reason, she doubted it. That was something that was just between the two of them. And that made her want him all the more.

She excused herself and went to the ladies room. She needed a moment alone. The bathrooms were big and wide and she had a mirror all to herself. She reapplied her dark red lipstick, fluffed her hair, and looked herself over. She looked good. She looked great. The drink she'd had gave her a boost of confidence. No, she wouldn't walk up to him. She'd trap him. She'd lure him. She'd make him quiver and shake just the way she'd quivered and shook that afternoon.

As she walked out the door Inga saw that the men's room was down the hall from the ladies room, and in between there was an dark, empty dining room. During the day the club probably did a brisk business serving lunch to hungry beachcombers, but now it was quiet and deserted. An idea formed, and Inga became so excited she nearly had to touch herself.

She returned to her stool, and saw across the bar that her target was talking to a slender young woman with dark brown hair. She was very pretty, wearing a pale green top with thin straps, and he seemed quite taken with her, looking at her with considerable interest and laughing loudly and often. Jealousy flared inside her and Inga thought about walking over and flinging her drink in his face.

But then his eyes lifted, and he looked right at her, and his eyes stayed with hers for a long time, before returning to his performance with the girl. Inga had to have him. And she had to have him now.

Every minute she looked over at him. And then, finally, twenty minutes later he broke away from his group and headed for the rest rooms. Inga hastily excused herself and headed that way herself, her drink in hand. She walked so quickly that she nearly caught up to him as he turned the corner and entered the men's room.

She went into the darkened dining room and quietly pulled out a chair and set it against the wall. The table would give them a little bit of privacy, and she set her drink on it and purse on it. She waited...and then a devilish thought popped into her mind. She pulled out her lipstick and carefully reapplied it. And then she waited.

There was a mirrored sign on the far wall so Inga could see he was the one coming down the hall. When he was just about to pass the dining room Inga stepped out, grabbed both his wrists, and dragged him into the darkness. "Hey!" he said--and that sign of weakness, of confusion, was more intoxicating to Inga than anything she'd drank that night. She was nearly as tall as him and kept him off balance and she pulled him along and then pushed him into the chair.

"Remember me?" Inga asked, going down on her knees and snuggling between his legs. And before he could answer, she said, "I'm wearing a lot of lipstick. Dark red lipstick. You have a choice. I can either leave lip prints all over your clean khaki shorts...or all over your cock. It's up to you."

He hesitated. Inga said, "How are you going to explain to your friends how you got dark red lipstick all over the fly of your shorts? Do you think that cute little girl you're talking to is going home with you with my lipstick smeared all over your crotch?"

She let her fingertips slip under his shorts, and he arched his hips. "No no, you don't get to move. If you move, I might make your shorts messy. Hurry now, either pull it out or I'm going to be very kissy-kissy all over your lap."

He looked confused, discombobulated...and excited. He reached down, unbuttoned his shorts, and unzipped them. He got them down a few inches before Inga said, "No, that's far enough." He wore clean white boxers and she reached up and gently pulled his penis through the fly.

He was throbbing, the tip of his cock already slick and shiny. She used her fingers to pull the skin tight at the base and she ran her tongue over the satiny tip of his erection. "Oh. My. God." he said.

"You have to be quiet," Inga whispered.

"Yes."

"You have to stay perfectly still. Don't move. Don't thrust. Or I'll might slip and kiss your khakis."

"Yes."

Inga put him into her mouth and it was glorious. He was so hard, so impossibly hard for her. She formed a ring around the base of his cock with her fist and bobbed her head up and down his length. His breathing was deep and ragged, and she knew he wanted to buck and thrust into her mouth, but he had to just sit there and take it, take the luscious abuse her mouth and tongue were dealing to his organ.

His head lolled back. He was struggling for control. The dining room was far enough away that the noise from the club was deadened, and in the dark it seemed like the wet sounds of her lips and tongue and sucking mouth were magnified. "Mmm," she growled, and he shivered from head to toe. Inga knew she could really torture him, she could let his cock slip free from her lips and say that they'd finish the next time he had to use the rest room. But with him in her mouth she knew she HAD to make him come. She had to feel him lose control and pour himself down her throat. She wanted to hear him whimper.

And he was whimpering now. "Are you going to come?" she asked. He just nodded. "Did you want this when you saw me here, did you want me sucking your cock?" He nodded. "You thought you'd just snap your fingers and I'd suck your cock when you wanted, didn't you?" He nodded. She put him back in her mouth, let her tongue flutter along the head before giving him several crown-to-base deep throats. He sighed, trembled, and she knew his orgasm was hers for the taking. "I think you underestimated me," Inga said.

And then she went wild on his cock, head bobbing up and down, her fingers stroking him, her tongue sliding all over the head. He couldn't help himself, he jerked a bit forward as the first gout of semen spurted from the tip of his penis. He hardened even more as her lips closed around the head and he ejaculated again and again and again. Inga's eyes popped wide and she looked up at his angelic face as he quietly sighed and cooed because of the pleasure she was giving him. She swallowed him and, at last, he was still.

She pulled her mouth away, swallowed again, and tucked his spent penis inside his boxers. And then, after she smoothed the fly closed, she leanded down and planted a long, sticky kiss on his white boxers. "Hey," he said quietly, and Inga leaned back and smiled. "Something to remember me by," she said. A perfect red lip print was left behind, right where his exhausted cock now slumbered. She stood, took a long sip from her drink, and reached in her purse for a cigarette. "Run along to your friends now," she said. "Good luck with your little friend."

He stood, buttoned and zipped his shorts, and arched his back. Inga lit her cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling as he wordlessly walked past. He got the hall, turned, and said quietly, "I hope you haven't underestimated me. I also hope you don't think this is over."

And then he said, "I'll see you tonight," before walking down the hall.

Inga smoked her cigarette, embarassed that her hands were shaking. He would see her tonight. How? When? What was he up to? What would he do? She just hoped it involved the two of them naked, and that magnificent penis sliding in and out of her pussy. Her hands still shook as she stubbed out her cigarette, but then she took another sip of her drink and remembered the soft cries she'd extracted from him during her oral assault. She could deal with whatever he had in store. Even as she wondered what it might be. She went back to her friends, apologized for taking so long, and sighed inside as the man she was talking to leered at her breasts. Go ahead and look, she said to herself. You won't get to touch. Only one man in this bar gets to do that.