Things in small city can feel both cozy and redundant. It’s nice to know the regulars and to watch the waves of tourists ebb and flow, but things can feel a little still when the pulse is repetitive for too long. So, on the day that the exquisitely attractive guy walked into the restaurant where I spent my working hours, I was ready for something exciting and willing to take a risk.
After seating the asteroid that had landed at my feet and sent tremors up my legs and into the very hot core of my body, I wasted no time getting myself into the last bathroom stall on the left. I pulled up my skirt and worked my fingers slowly around the pulsing heat of my clitoris and then deep into my wet, ready, peach-fuzz-covered pussy.
I closed my eyes and filled myself with the sound of the door opening and then the clicking of a lock. His footsteps coming directly, deliberately, to the small space where my breathing quickened. I squeezed my legs together and rocked against my fingers, imagining his scent, the strength of his hands as he opened the stall door and pulled my body in, to writhe against the solid hardness of his cock.
This fantasy took me over completely until I couldn’t find the ending. I was overwrought with pleasure and then spent from the release.
I didn’t wash my hands so I could linger in the scent of unexpected pleasure. I walked out of the bathroom, went right up to this mystery man’s table and looked him directly in the eyes. Though I felt week in the knees and a little bit dizzy, I managed to tell him that I found him extremely physically attractive. His smile was more stunning than his body and his ease of being was more seductive than even the sparks of lighting crashing towards me from his mischievous, twinkling eyes. If he said anything, I don’t remember because I became unbearably vulnerable and walked away.
I felt his eyes on me while he ate and was sure that he knew about the dampness in my panties. I was sure that he could smell my sweet juice and again began to fantasize…
He left without saying a word. He waited until I was busy seating a party in the back room of the restaurant and he slipped away. I was both relieved and completely crushed. What would I have done if he had waited to talk to me? I spent the rest of my shift floating in and out of dream state and pragmatism about this guy who’s dick I could feel filling me up and making me cum again and again and again…
When I finally left work it was five thirty. It was a beautiful summertime evening that made me feel like a cat in heat. When I reached the parking lot, my man was there. On a motorcycle. Was he waiting for me?
I think I just stood and stared. He simply asked if I wanted to go for a ride. It was the first time I had heard his voice. He was real! I said yes and tried to climb on as gracefully as possible. He smelled like darkness. The kind of darkness that one can get swept up into. Darkness like heaven. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed my thighs around his thighs. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the mountains. As crazy as it was, I began to rub his penis through his pants, I felt it grow. Harder and harder. I traced the tip with my finger and rubbed the shaft while my own hunger began to drum. Louder. Louder. I would have attempted to mount him as we cruised along beside the dry river bed if I could have maneuvered my way onto his lap. Though we were completely alone, in the middle of the desert, he didn’t pull over. I knew he was teasing me as much as I was teasing him.
Finally, he stopped. He shut the engine and we immediately forced our mouths against each other’s flesh. Anywhere we could touch, skin on skin on mouth with hands… We felt one another’s bodies completely through our clothes, our shapes, our bones, our flesh, with urgency. We tasted each other’s breath and with devotion we looked at one another. For a long time. And then he began to undress me. Slowly. Touching every inch of newly exposed flesh before exposing more. He touched me gently. Firmly. I had no power. And yet I was the one in complete control. My body was his master though he refused its impulse to participate. He kissed and nibbled and caressed as he slowly, so slowly, undressed me. I stood before him, naked. A panther, ready to kill from desire.
I began to touch myself as my need grew more and more insistent. I cupped my breasts and rubbed small circles toward my erect nipples. The fullness of my body grew. My own pleasure made me want him more and so I teased, I taunted. I walked behind him and pulled his back against my chest, rubbing my desire, my wetness, my softness against his body. I unbuckled his belt, rubbed his cock as I fingered myself, moaning softly against his neck. I wanted us to cum together so I took off his shirt. At last our skin touching. The heat. The salt. The soft connecting of life. I took down his pants and laid him on the ground. My lips, my cheeks, my tongue exploring his flesh. My nipples just above his mouth, brushing up against his face, his chest, his man hips, his thighs… My breath on his cock. Our longing complete.
I pulled his pants off from around his ankles with my feet while teasing his penis with my tongue. And then, my turn to adore his beauty. His engorged, slippery dick inside my mouth, slowly, hitting the back of my throat until I opened up a little more, then, further down. Cupping his balls, fingering his anus, licking that magical g spot, making him beg and moan. My own red cunt a cherry ripe with juice and full, so full.
At last he took me. All the way. He sat up, turned my body around and pushed me up on all fours. Cock in pussy. Hard in soft. Fingers on clit. Rubbing, rolling, almost there. He picked me up and gently moved me onto my back. His body above me. Tenderly rocking. Pelvises pressed up so close we were almost one person connected by love. Then, faster. Faster. Yes! Fuck me!! Together. Oh. Yes. Ahhhh…
We lay there without speaking. The dark was coming. We got dressed. Still no words. We hadn’t said a single thing. He got on his bike. I climbed on behind him. Satisfied.
He took me back to the parking lot and stopped where he had picked me up. I got off the bike, gave him a smile and walked over to my car without looking back. As I drove away I realized I didn’t know his name. In fact I knew nothing except that I was in love.
I never saw him again but the next day there was a block print of Marylyn Monroe with the word viva! Hand-written underneath her picture, tucked under the windshield wiper of my car. I knew it was from him. That extremely physically attractive man who made my fantasies come true.