I've never been beautiful. Some people have called me so sometimes. But I know they were only being nice. I know I'm not beautiful. Not ugly either, just not pretty, you know? Not someone people would stop to look at. Sometimes, when I dress up nicely and cover my face, I feel pretty. But deep down, I know I'm not. I have slightly flabby arms and my skin is a little pale. I have dark circles and old acne scars. Tons of other things too. But I've never felt less than because of that. I've never felt inferior. Until now.
I went to the Lounge every Friday because he came there some Fridays. I was desperate enough to go weekly just to watch him. Watch him dance, laugh with his friends, dance with a girl or sometimes leave the Lounge with one. That always put me in a sour mood. But then I'd go home and imagine myself being there, being with him, instead of that girl. I'd lie alone in my room, rubbing my clit furiously and think about all the lovely times we could have.
Of course, they were just fantasies. He was way out of my league. 6 feet tall, with beach blonde hair that fell over his forehead and a body that looked sculpted even covered with clothes, he looked like a swimwear model. So, I just went and took pleasure in watching him from afar. I never had enough confidence to approach a guy. The handful of sexual experiences I had were only because the guys came onto me. I had a boyfriend for a few months but he cheated on me and that was that. My pride never let me forgive him, even after he begged and apologized. Anyway, since I couldn't even talk to random guys, facing him, the guy in all my romantic fantasies since the last two years, was out of the question.
But I was in a depressing mood that night. After just being fired from my job, I had thought this guilty pleasure would be the only thing that could cheer me up. Unfortunately, it didn't. I got even more upset watching him and knowing I could never have him. So upset that I drank. And drank. And drank some more. While it wasn't enough for me to pass out right there, it was enough for me to let go of some of my inhibitions.
I said to myself, 'Just give it a try. What's the worst that could happen? He'll reject you. You can live with that.' With that in mind, I turned toward the bar. He was sitting there alone, waiting for his friends to arrive. He always came early. I know that because I ensured that I was always there before him.
Even with all the drinks, my heart was running a mile a minute. I was so nervous. He had a glass of whisky in front of him. With all the confidence I could muster, I went up right beside him and told the bartender, "Another glass for the gentleman. On me."
Quickly giving her the bill, I glanced at him. His eyebrows were raised. Then his eyes slowly went from my head to my toes and back again. I couldn't gauge his reaction. "Thank you," he said, with a tilt of his head. Even his voice was captivating to me. "I've seen you around. You like the Lounge a lot, huh?"
I don't. I hate it. It's too stuffy for me. "I do. The people that come here are usually very nice," I replied with what I hoped was a seductive smile, but am sure looked more like a grimace. I was too nervous. My palms were starting to sweat. He answered with a knowing smirk.
Lightly putting his hand on my waist, he nodded to the back gate, "You want to go out for a smoke?"
I hated cigarettes. Found them disgusting. "Sure, I'd love to." No way was I going to give up this opportunity.
He got up and started walking toward the door with me following right behind him, afraid that he would disappear. Afraid that this would all turn out to be my imagination. There was only one more girl outside. She was leaning right beside the door, smoking. He didn't stop. He kept walking toward the end of the lane. There was a dumpster there and he went and stood on the other side of it. It was radiating a slightly foul smell and I couldn't imagine why he'd choose this place but I didn't question him.
Leaning against the wall, his eyes assessed me again. There was no subtlety. He was checking me out and he was making it obvious too. That upped my confidence a little. So, when he said, "I've seen you watch me," I didn't completely turn into a blubbering mess. My cheeks reddened and I started fidgeting, but I wasn't at my worst yet. He smiled then. His thumb grazed my heated cheek. "You want to come to my place?"
YES YES YES "Sure, I'd love to," I squeaked. Looks like that is the only thing I could utter in his presence.
His fingers on the nape of my neck, his thumb grazed my lips. "You've seen the kind of girls I hang out with, right?" I had the sudden urge to lick his thumb. Afraid that I'll do something like that, I simply nodded. His fingers tightened slightly.
"Speak," although spoken softly, the sternness behind his word wasn't lost on me.
"Yes," I squeaked again, "they are very beautiful."
"They are. And you are...well, you are quite different from them. I've never taken someone like you home before."
"Someone like me?"
"Yeah, you know, someone not beautiful." My stomach plummeted. He said it so casually. Like he was just stating a fact.
"Oh" I didn't know what else to say. I could feel myself choking up. I didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
"Hey hey, don't feel bad. I asked you to my place, didn't I?" He was right. He did. That calmed me a bit. "It's just that I like to be upfront. So, I want to know that you understand what's going to happen. We're going to my place to fuck. I'm going to fuck you. You get that, right?"
I nodded. His eyes cut to mine and I heard the silent command. "Yes, I know."
"Okay, so you know, since you're so...different from the girls I usually fuck, I thought we could just check if we're compatible or not before we waste anymore time, you know."
"I...uh...how?" He smiled again. His hand, now on my shoulder, pushed a little. I panicked. I knew what he wanted, but could I do it? Here and right now? My eyes quickly looked around. The girl wasn't there anymore. Besides, if I knelt, no one would be able to see me. We were only visible from the waist up at the moment. The dumpster was a good cover. But there was still no way I could do this, right? He saw my hesitance and removed his hand. I felt the loss in my bones. "Well, okay then," he said and shifted to move away.
"No!" I was panicking again, but for a different reason. "No, wait, please. You're right. You shouldn't be wasting your time like that."
He leaned back on the wall again, arms folded. "I'm glad we have an understanding." Then he raised his eyebrows. I knew what I had to do. And without his guidance this time. It would have been better if I had done it before itself. Now, it was all on me. I looked around again and knelt down before I lost my nerve. I looked up at him, waiting for him to make the next move. He freed one hand and gestured to his crotch. "Well?" He was losing his patience now. I could see that. My hand went to his belt and tugged. Button open. Zip down. I pulled his jeans toward me. The only thing separating us now was the thin cloth of his boxers. Not wanting to annoy him anymore, I tugged again. His semi erect cock jutted out. Looking at the cluster of pubes at the end, I knew I'd be picking out wiry blonde hair from my teeth later. His dick looked 7 inches or so but that wasn't what surprised me. It was how thick he was. I took a hold of it and my thumb and index finger couldn't meet. How was this going to fit in my mouth? Again, I glanced up at him and his expression was on the verge of boredom. Not wanting to waste this opportunity because of my prudishness, I leaned in and licked his head before I could think. He sighed. Happy that it was not a negative reaction at least, I licked his head completely, slowly trying to cover the rest of his dick with my tongue. When I reached a little past his middle, his hand dropped on my forehead, nudging slightly. I pulled back, but his fingers curled and grabbed the hair right above my forehead. My hand was still holding him. "Is this going to be a blow job or a hand job?" I let go and put them on my thighs, letting him guide me. He put my head back in front of his cock. My mouth was open, and he slowly pulled my face toward him. He was so gentle. I could do this. His other hand joined and he rested both of them on either side of my head, slowly guiding my face to take his cock in. It was more than halfway in now anyway.
"Look up." I did. "Do you want to control this? I don't mind. I just thought it'll be better if I took charge. Less chances of fucking this up that way, you know." I just stared. "So, you want me to let go" I quickly shook my head. No way. This was good. This way, I wouldn't have to make any decisions. He was right. This meant less chances of fucking up. "Use your words. I don't like when people don't respond properly. I'm not going to waste my time telling you again and again." We had only just started and he was already disappointed in me.
"Nnghh," I tried to speak with my mouth full of cock.
"Good girl," he caressed my hair and I felt at the top of the world. Then he thrust a little. His dick met my throat. I was going to gag. "Swallow". I did. He pulled back and pushed back in. This time I swallowed without being told and his dick went past my throat. Only a little, but better than before. We got into a rhythm then. He pulled, pushed, and I swallowed. Every time his cock went a little farther than before until I could feel his hair tickling my nose.
"Do you want me to teach you how to be better?"
"Ysghh"