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I enjoy fantasizing improbable things. Good, bad, or sexy. My boyfriend is a sexy, sexy man. His name isn’t Bert, but you don’t need to know his name. He’s blond in the summer when he doesn’t wear a hat, about 5’8 with a narrow waist and only slightly hammy cyclist legs and a cute butt. He’s got blue eyes and a tip tilted nose, and his smile is trouble, bracketed by dimples. I’m fucking short, 5’3, and athletically curvy—you know, busty but muscular without trying, and when I try I look more like the gymnast I used to be. I’m mixed with skin approximately the color of a white chocolate mocha cinnamon dulce, I have curly hair, and genetically perfect eyebrows. My name isn’t Eva, but I do like that name, so that’s what we’re going with. And I do make a point of making at least some of my fantasies come true.
Read this shit.
We decided to be not old people (getting up at 5.30am on a regular basis will do that to you) and go out around our usual bedtime. I usually don’t bother with makeup or leaving my hair down, and I work with machines so dresses and blouses are out and jeans or joggers and t-shirts are comfortable. But I am hot and I know it. So when I go out, it’s an excellent excuse to dress up and my ego likes the attention—I’ve had more than one person ask me to marry them on sight.
Other people’s attention is nice, but I love when my baby can’t keep his hands off of me all night. He doesn’t drink much, so I can get a little drunk and drop some of my anxious inhibitions – not that I have many of them where PDA is concerned. He likes me in things that are a little revealing, and really loves anything that allows him more than usual access to my skin. And what I love about not being single is that Bert and I both know there’s a damn good chance we’ll get lucky, especially if I bother to dress up.
The dress was red with a paisley pattern in crushed velvet, it came down a bit below my ass but dancing was going to push it up, so I at least made sure to wear something underneath—black lace cheekies. I wore my polka-dot balconette bra and I tightened up the straps to let my already obvious cleavage overfill the sweetheart neckline of the dress—it’s more of minimizer bra and isn’t padded at all. I have a tiny ribcage and tits large enough that finding bras is an expensive quest—how many people have even heard of a size 32E?—so I get some fairly fine lingerie, and Bert likes this one. The criss-cross straps in the back showed most of my slightly broad, defined shoulders, as well. I knew Bert’s hands would skim across my skin as we danced, occasionally dipping toward my stomach, edging towards what he would want to taste later.
Of the men I’ve dated, only the white ones have ever refused to dance with me or done it begrudgingly. I’ve rather lost the ability to be attracted to a non-dancer after that latino fraternity dance event at my college. I went with a latino guy who lived on my floor because we were friends but I was pretty into him. My hormones get all riled up when I dance, still.
However, Bert is white, but he doesn’t fit the stereotype of a white man dancing. I like grinding on someone, but I don’t like doing it with people I’m not intimate with. I love dancing with Bert and grinding on him. He’s every bit cute and sexy with his shy, dimpled smile and tip tilted freckled nose. I’m not quite over the feeling of dating someone other women find attractive. I’m good with herd mentality making me find my man even hotter.
About two drinks in, I usually start kissing him a little and we both get a little handsy—I’m turned on by how turned on he is and I’m a little less in control of my emotions when I’m tipsy. Bert will run his hands along my thighs and my hips and ass when I turn to face him and straddle his leg and…Shit, we were supposed to be leaving in five minutes.
I got the rest of my kit together—phone, going-out wallet, smokes, lighter, chapstick. Bert would be my pockets. I would be the arm candy. And he would DD my drunken ass home and I would put my hand on his thigh as we drove home, then my hand would slip closer to his crotch. I would outline the shape of his cock with my finger and…Godammit we really needed to go and I was extremely illegal bahis distracted with what tonight would probably turn in to—us jumping each other’s bones.
I came downstairs and Bert looked up from his phone and ‘Mhmm’ed appreciatively as Lilu wagged her tail and sniffed me, winding around me like the cat she most certainly was not, silly little pittie-mutt.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Probably,” I said as I leaned over to kiss him.
“Bye pup,” we said as we headed out the door.
I sat down in the car, smiling as my ass landed in my boyfriend’s hand. He liked to do that; to set his hand so when I sat my ass was cupped in his palm. He gave me a bit of a squeeze then pulled his hand to the shifter, put it in reverse, and we headed out.
Bert drove to the club, and we found a parking spot after a bit of circling and ended up with a fairly long walk. I had a smoke on the way and enjoyed how perfect the weather was, though I knew with the humidity by the end of the night in the open rooftop club, I’d be sticky and my hair would be a frizzy mess and we’d probably go home and take a shower and Bert would grab my hair and bend me forward as he slid into me… “Sorry, what was that, babe?” I said, smirking about how deep my mind was in the gutter tonight. I knew he was getting lucky, but I’m sometimes hit or miss so he probably wasn’t as sure though he’d probably guess when I started touching his dick through his pants in the club…
“I said it looks different, like they renovated it,” he said.
“With what money?” I asked, as I slid my things into his pockets, “Last time we were here, this place was dead, though it looks better today.” I grabbed his butt through the fabric of his back pocket and he smiled.
We submitted to the ID check and payed the cover, and as we were walking up the darkened stairs of the main club he grabbed my butt and I stopped, my back to his chest and he lightly bit the back of my neck.
I practically purred as I lead the way to the bar, ordered two amaretto sours and tipped well enough that I’d be taken care of for the rest of the night. (In fact, I got a bit more drunk than I planned on—perhaps something to do with saying I didn’t realize the double was a double). I drink them there—the club is a too close to hold a drink if you don’t want to wear it.
He led the way to the dance floor and we started moving, face to face at first, the music bassy and basic but sexy and fun to move to. Bert pulled me into his body, his hand at the small of my back, until my hips met his and we slowed, grinding against each other. My forehead against his, an echo of the first type of chemistry you have with a person fizzling and sparking between us. His lips graze my neck as I turn so my ass is firmly in the saddle of his hips as I move with him. I think I can already feel his cock start to stiffen against my ass. Quick songs we dance a little apart, teasing, slower songs we get closer together, touching, kissing more than we normally would in public. The dark club encourages boldness. An old familiar R just cars passing on a fairly quiet stretch of almost-highway outside a defunct BP gas station. That had been exciting and a little unnerving—I think Bert has more of an exhibitionist streak than I do. But I wanted him, badly. So I wandered back the way I had come and saw him standing near the bar, looking for me.
I’m not very subtle sometimes, so I laced my fingers through his, so I glanced around, seeing that security was oblivious and the bartender was busy with customers, and walked him towards the hidden side of the storage shed. I finished my drink as I continued right into the unfinished gap in the construction with a pause only for a furtive look around. Bert followed me bemusedly—he’s getting better at playing the ‘yes game’.
I turn and push him against the closest wall, pressing my lips against his hungrily. He runs his hands down my body to my ass and his hands cup my butt like they belong there. He kisses me back, his slow grin and little growl as he rocks me against his crotch and that’s all the encouragement I need to get him hard and ready. I kiss down across his chin, to his neck as he bends his head to kiss mine. His mouth is on my neck, nipping and kissing, illegal bahis siteleri sucking and licking as I continue my path of kisses to his ear. I lick the soft skin behind his ear, then the lobe. I run my lips up the curl of his ear and back down to the lobe where I nip, lick and soothe, then tug on his 00G plug with my teeth. My hands are on his shoulders, my arms wrapped under his arms, around his torso, holding him close to me. “I want to make this quick, babe…so get down on your knees.” He leans back to look at me properly, eagerly, and I can see the heat and desire in his blue eyes. I pull him back in for a quick kiss where I nip his lip and press my palm to his hard dick and feel it throb, hot through his pants. I then push him away, smiling, and press my hand down on his shoulder to his obvious amusement.
He drops to a crouch and runs his hands up my thighs as he hooks his thumbs under the skirt of my dress and lifts up. He kisses me through my lace edged undies and licks under the edge of the material. I think teasing is sexy, and I get more turned on being teased through dwindling layers of clothing than if I just stripped. The sudden removal of my dress starts to cool the wet spot that has spread to the entire crotch of my undies, and I feel Bert chuckle against the lips of my pussy as his tongue seeks deeper under the thin cloth. He presses hand against my pussy, moulding his fingers to cup me and his other hand reaches around to my ass, under my panties, feeling my wetness, undulating the fingers of the hand cupping my pussy and rubbing the juice pooling toward the back of my pussy towards the crack of my ass. He lightly glides his slick fingertips over my anus, pushing in slightly and I arch my butt off of the wall—and he pulls my panties completely off. I step out of them and he doesn’t hesitate to begin kissing my clit, running his lips across it, kissing it gently, then licking around it, carefully not touching. He begins again, teasing me. He presses his tongue into the top of my clit, pulsing more than licking, then runs his tongue slowly from my opening to my clit, slightly flicking his tongue at the end. And then just doing that, over and over. My god I want him inside me, I can feel how wet I am.
I run my fingers through his slightly curly, dirty blonde hair, fisting my hand when I reach the crown of his head, dragging his mouth away from my pussy as I urge him to stand. I unbutton and unzip his pants to make my intention clear, his cock springing out, hot and hard. I love that he doesn’t generally bother with boxers. I wrap my hand around his cock, fingers only overlapping slightly. He has one of the most perfect cocks I’ve ever seen—somewhere around six and a half inches, the head slightly bigger than the slightly veiny shaft, currently a ruddy pink, just a little purple at the tip. And his precum makes the tip of his cock glisten damply in the half light of the shed. I gently bounce and press the head of his cock against my soaking wet pussy, against my stiffened clit—the warmth and controlled pressure bringing me close.
My entire focus is on my clit and how hot it is when I use his perfect-enough-to-be-a-sextoy cock to get me off…I moan, saying “Baby, baby I want you to get inside me when I start to come.” I’m so close, Bert’s cock throbs in my hand, adding pressure to my clit, I start move his shaft so the head of his dick flicks against my clit, then I press the tip of his cock into my clit a little harder and I’m coming. I hear Bert moan, “Oh, baby, yes, come for me, come on my cock,” and he pushes into me and I know I’m slick and wet, tight and pulsing and just like every time the first time he enters me feels so right. I feel so connected to him, full of him, and his face transforms with the pleasure of it as he thrusts into the center of my orgasm.
And then he grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head. He is so sweet, and so laid back that when he acts dominant I kind of lose it. I enter that space before letting go, being entirely his slut, because I’m not sure it’s something I want in my personality. But my slight hesitation doesn’t lessen the pleasure of his sure, full thrusts into me, his mouth on my neck, his hands pressing my wrists hard into the wood of the canlı bahis siteleri shed. I’m sure he’s close—we’ve been having foreplay all night and we don’t have the time for our usual leisurely pace, and I know it gets him off to see my eyes skyward in orgasm, still sending little aftershocks through me. He mouth is against my neck, his hands dropping from my wrists to my breasts, cupping them and applying gentle pressure to my sensitive nipples through my dress. He bites me hard enough that I yelp, then moan, his hips still thrusting against mine, sliding against my clit with the base of his cock. He pulls out, whispers, “Turn around.”
I place my hands against the wall and he’s immediately plunging himself back into me—I feel his warm, thick cock spreading me and going deeper from behind. He runs his hands up my thighs, pulling my dress up so he can watch himself impale me, slowing down to admire how wet his cock is from my juices. One hand grabs my hip possessively enough I’m sure I’ll have lovemarks there tomorrow, the other hand resting initially at the base of my neck then traveling up to the crown of my head where the hair is long enough for him to use it as a handle. There’s something about that—the feel of the heavy, warm weight of his hand on a vulnerable place like my neck, or controlling my body, gets to me. He pulls all the way out, teases me briefly with the head of his cock, then thrusts himself back in, hard. I take one hand off the wall to quiet my mounting moans as he continues to fuck me harder and harder and his hand slips from my hip down to just cup my pussy and apply pressure to my clit as he rocks my body back and forth with his thrusts. He pulls me upright against him by my hair, his hand still on my pussy and says, his voice a little rough, “I’m about to come. Get on your knees.”
We pull ourselves apart—I can feel my wetness on my thighs now, and I can smell us flavoring the air, and it’s turning me right the fuck on. I turn and drop to my knees, pulling down the neckline of my dress and the cups of my bra below my tits as I do. In response, he threads both hands through my hair, pulling my eager mouth to his cock. I know now isn’t the time for any technique—except deep throating. I open my lips and am rewarded with the proud arch of him in my mouth, already nearly to the back of my throat. His cock jumps and thickens, and he holds my head against his groin as I reach up to play with his balls, tugging them away from his body. He rocks into my mouth, my throat and then begins sliding in and out in the tight noose of my lips a little more slowly. I glance up, and I can’t hear him moaning past the music but I know that look on his face. He speeds up, both pulling my head towards his crotch and thrusting his hips towards me, bottoming out every time so that I have to control my breathing. He thrusts hard into the back of my throat, his cock filling me as I rub my tongue and tongue stud against the spot between the head and the shaft when he isn’t half choking me with his dick.
He pulls out so just the head is in my mouth and I swirl my tongue briefly around, using the top and bottom of the stud to trace the bottom of the head of his cock, taking this moment to breath. Because then he pushes himself all the way in, his hand against the back of my head pressing me firmly against him, as his cock hardens and fills my mouth. I can’t breathe when he’s this deep but he’s close and he is either in my throat, or my lips are against his blonde pubes, and for me it feels nearly as good to have him thrusting in my mouth as it does in my pussy. Then I can taste the slightly basic, unique taste of him as he comes in my mouth. I feel him shake with aftershocks as I continue to suck him and move my lips up and down his length, his hand still on the back of my head but cradling it now. He isn’t really soft, and I’m sure we could go again, but I think that would be tempting fate.
My love and I check each other, and I withdraw a smoke from his pants as he zips himself back up, grinning at me. I kiss him, and bite his lip a little hard for being cheeky, and because I’m not very sober at all. We slide out of the rather warmer shed as I light my postcoital cigarette. We make our way towards the exit after that, smug with our indiscretion like the partners in crime we are.
I realize only after we were in the car on the way home that I’d left my cup up in the storage shed, and I’m pleased that surely someone will realize what naughty thing went on in there.
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