It could have been any Friday night. Out at the bar with some of my buddies, just lookin' to have a good time with the boys. No one is particularly looking to pick up, but you always keep half an eye on it...just in case. We arrive at our usual drinking hole around 9:30, and the place is only half full. Priorities in order, we head to the bar for some drinks. Scoping out the scene, some decent looking chicks are nearby and we run our game on them half-heartedly, with little yield. One buddy does settle in close to a girl, so we know he's likely out of the running for the rest of the night. We catch sight of some friends and shoot the shit with them for awhile, sipping longnecks while recounting stories from our glory days, taking turns playing darts.
Around 11:30 I see you, with a gaggle of friends. Your pretty smile and beautiful eyes have my own drifting back to you every few minutes. Your hair falls perfectly about your shoulders, framing breasts that perfectly fill out your low-cut sweater. Round, plenty of cleavage, and obviously natural. You have a little waist, taut stomach, and when you turn around I can see a perfectly shaped ass clad in jeans worn thin in all the right places.
It doesn't take long for my fellow predators to catch on, and as you are currently talking to two friends, two of my buddies wing me up and we head on over. I take the direct approach:
"Hi."
"Hey there," you say, giving me the once-over before switching to a pose of nonchalance, scanning the bar and acting rather disinterested. A few more pithy exchanges lead me to engage one of your friends in conversation, who seems much more enthralled by what I have to say. You don't leave though, which is heartening. A half hour later we are all dancing in a group, and you continue to play it cool.
Finally it's last call, at which point it seems as if your friends want to go home with my friends, leaving you somewhat stranded as we all stand outside the bar. We call a cab and I try to assuage your reticence. Under the streetlight, the curves of your body are in relief. I start to feel impatient at this game of winning you over. Finally, you acquiesce to the pleadings of your friends and we all pile into the cab and I manage the situation to good advantage, with you half on my lap. I can feel the warmth of your body, feel you breathing, crushed against me. The bare skin of your arm touches mine and for a second, I'm a teenager again, turned on by that one electric shock. The forced closeness creates the desired effect of intimacy, and I turn on the charm. You seem to respond, smiling and laughing now. Of course, it's probably the result of the night's drinking but I'm happy to take full credit. I decide to test my suspicions by resting an arm on your thigh. You don't protest, so I figure things are looking good, and begin to feel a stirring in my pants.
We arrive at my buddy's place, pile out and I pay the cabbie. Walking to the door, I gently put my hand on your back to guide you inside. Once inside, girls assemble themselves on the couch, I round up some brewskis, and the boys keep entertaining us all. Soon enough, my friends have slunk off to their rooms with your friends and it's just the two of us, alone in the dimly lit living room. I muse to myself about how fickle women can seem, not giving you the time of day one second, then changing their minds, albeit perhaps with some persistence.
I sit down next to you, and slide my hand back onto your leg and you smile at me. We talk about nothing for a minute or two, and I lean in to kiss you. You let me kiss you, but don't quite kiss me back. I keep kissing you, and slide my hand up your leg to your shirt and begin to work my way under it. At this point you pull away from me and shake your head. All of a sudden rage courses through me. "What's this bitch's problem?" I think. I try laughing it off and go in for another kiss at which point you slap me, hard. What the fuck? I am not used to this kind of response from women.
Surprise quickly turns to anger. I drop my smile and my jaw settles. I lean back in and grab the back of your neck to force your mouth to mine. I kiss you deeply, and bite your lip hard. I grab your hand and stand up, starting to pull you with me. You try to resist, and this time it's me who slaps you hard across the face. I give you a look that says I'm not fucking around. I jerk your hand to half drag you towards the stairs. I barely make out your mumbling, "Please, I'd really like to just go home now..." I say nothing, just pull you up the stairs and into a vacant room. Once we get inside, I close the door, grab your hair and pull back so I can kiss your exposed throat. You whimper a little but I'm beyond caring, so full of lust. I yank your sweater up, exposing your luscious breasts encased in a lace bra and am immediately entranced by my new goodies. I continue jerking the sweater off, bending down to make contact with that sweet soft skin of your cleavage with my mouth, your arms trapped behind you in your sweater. As I nibble on your nipples through the bra I notice you aren't particularly resisting me, and step back to see what you do.
In the moonlight spilling through the window, you are beautiful, and I can't wait to see the rest of you. Your eyes are closed, probably not wanting to bear witness to your own shame. I think you're starting to enjoy this too.
I take the sweater off your arms, then undo your bra and drop it to the floor. Your tits are incredible, so delicious looking I could eat them. Continuing to suckle on one breast, I knead the other, which fits perfectly in my hand. Hmmmm, D cup, I guess. You breathing starts to quicken and I switch sides, kneading the other breast, not breaking contact between your skin and my mouth. You smell like coconut oil, which reminds me of the beach. It's a subtle scent, mellow and sensuous, and it explains why your skin is so soft and delectable. As my teeth graze your nipple, I hear you suck in your breath. I'm now almost holding you up as you melt backwards over my forearms, giving me perfect access to your chest.
After a few more minutes, I lay you down on the bed and undo your jeans, pulling them off your shapely legs. Your scent hits my nose, and I confirm with my fingers what I already suspect: you're sopping wet. Your eyes are still closed in denial of this invasion, but now your cheeks are flushed with even more mortification since you know I have undeniably witnessed your body's response. Pulling aside your panties, I start to lick your shaved pussy, starting with long slow laps along the slit, teasing you by not honing in on your clit right away. After a minute or so, you get frustrated by this and start widening your legs, bucking your hips towards my face. Ha ha, slut, I laugh to myself. I make my tongue harder, continuing the oral assault along the length of your slit, and when I can feel you start to get wetter, I lick my fingers and push the middle one into your hot tight cunt. That makes you jump a bit and let out a squeak, responsive filly that you are. I use my left hand to spread your pussy lips apart, and start to flick my tongue across your clit, side to side, while moving my right middle finger in a come hither gesture, stroking the underside of your belly where your G-spot lies. I'm rewarded for my ministrations by your thrashing and moaning, goading me on until you climax, legs quivering madly. I stop for a minute before repeating the process twice more. You can't handle it any more, and this is when I really break you. My strategy has paid off. You open your eyes, look at me with a mixture of loathing and arousal, and beg me to fuck you.
"What?" I say, making you repeat yourself.
"Fuck me," you say.
"Fuck you please sir, I think is what you mean," I say. I'm enjoying this so much it's hard not to laugh.
"Fuck me please, sir," you say quietly.
"And why should I bother?" I say.
