Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I nursed my fourth glass of Baileys and watched resentfully as my colleague Jewel worked her charm on Niles, the new guy at the office. She was standing so close to him, as he sat on a stool at the bar, her 32F breasts were practically in his face. When she had approached him earlier he had offered her the stool, but she had smilingly declined, knowing that standing would be to her advantage as it would put her best assets in his line of vision. She was savvy like that.
Within minutes most of the guys from the office were crowded around the pair of them, watching her courtship dance. The better looking amongst them had experienced it firsthand. She had bragged to me in detail of how she had fucked them and dropped them as soon as someone new had turned up. Yet most of them lived in the hope that she would one day fuck them again. On their faces I could see the pity and the envy of the poor sucker who would soon be joining her discarded-lovers club.
She and I were the only females working in the IT department. The guys respected me because I was as knowledgeable as any of them. They secretly laughed when Jewel failed to find a reported fault, only for one of us to discover that it was the most basic of problems—sometimes as simple as an accidentally disconnected device. We all agreed that she must have been interviewed for the job by some man from Human Resources who had taken one look at her bosom and offered her the position.
Usually I didn’t care what she did. I had never been jealous of her because I sensed that underneath all the outrageous clothing was a very insecure woman. But today was my twenty-fifth birthday and I had invited them all for an after-work drink at the nearby wine bar to help me celebrate. I had put two hundred and fifty bloody pounds behind the bar. They had all been laughing and chatting with me, until she’d turned up.
Earlier in the day I had been a little disappointed that none of them had bought me a gift or even a birthday card. And before this evening I had thought that they were my friends.
Just before we had left the office at four, I had quickly popped to the Ladies to apply make-up and spray on some scent. I was looking my best and feeling great.
The first half an hour had been as great as I was feeling, I’d had the guys’ undivided attention and they had been enthusiastically throwing back the free drinks I’d provided.
Jewel had told us to go ahead, that she would meet us at the bar. Thirty minutes later she’d made her dramatic entrance, changed from the scandalously low-cut top and skinny jeans she had worn to work to a red dress which plunged almost to her navel in front and showed the crack of her tiny ass at the back.
The guys had slowly drifted in her direction as if she were a man-magnet. I soon realized that they had only come because I had generously offered to supply free drinks.
“Do you want to share a cab later, Petra?” asked William, still sitting beside me probably because there was not enough ‘man’ in his body for Jewel’s magnet to attract.
He was our top IT specialist and a really sweet guy. But none of us could decide if he was straight, gay or lesbian. I discovered during the last Tube strike, when he had kindly offered me a ride on a rather sleek BMW K1200S motorcycle, that he had recently bought a house two corners away from mine in Islington.
“Sure,” I agreed, with a shrug. The night had already cost me a bundle, I might as well cut costs where I could.
“Let me know when you are ready,” he said, giving me a sympathetic smile.
“You know, William, I think I’ll leave now,” I said, suddenly making up my mind.
I was already pissed off. If I waited around to watch the guys get drunker and drunker at my largesse while they leered at Jewel’s chest I might burst a blood vessel.
The rain was pouring when we got outside. A miserable end to my miserable birthday.
“Wait here,” William said, pulling the hood of his anorak up over his head. “I’ll get a cab and come back for you.”
He dashed off through the rain as I stood blessedly dry under the overhang at the entrance. He was a sweetheart, but though I have a real soft spot for underdogs, I would rather go home and masturbate than have a sympathy fuck from William. Sexually I’m attracted to macho men. My last three boyfriends were all in the building trade. Rough men with necks as thick as my thighs, and brains to match. I like fucking to be basic not intellectual.
Minutes later a black taxi pulled up to the kerb in front of me. William opened the door and gestured for me to get in. I’d thought that he had meant a mini-cab; a black taxi would cost twice as much. It was just as well that he had offered to split the cost.
We drove for about twenty-five minutes in silence.
“You are much prettier than Jewel,” he said finally.
“It’s sweet of you to say so, William, but we both know that’s not really true.”
I had a regular face: two eyes, a nose and a very sexy Escort bayan mouth guys told me—though they might have meant a ‘sex’ mouth because they also tell me that I give great blowjobs.
“I think you are prettier,” William insisted. “I’m sure she looks terrible without makeup.”
“Even if she has a face like a weasel under her makeup,” I told him, “her chest would make up for it.”
We both smiled and lapsed into silence again until the taxi turned into my street and he said, “I’ve bought you a gift, but I didn’t want to bring it to the office. Do you want to come to my place to get it?”
If any of my other male colleagues had made the offer I would have agreed instantly. I doubted very much that William was planning to rip my clothes off and have his wicked way with me, and I didn’t fancy spending the rest of the night playing computer games with him. Especially since he would win every one.
“Thanks, William, but I’ll wait until Monday.”
As the taxi pulled up to my door, he surprised me by getting out and saying, “As it’s your birthday, I’ll pay for the taxi.”
“Thanks.” I opened my front door and stood in the doorway to make sure he understood that I wasn’t inviting him inside. I planned to drink some more Baileys and then try out the new Rampant Rabbit Three Way Vibrator I’d bought myself for my birthday. I was already getting wet thinking about it. William might cramp my style by overstaying his welcome. I said gently but firmly, “Good night, William.”
“Good night, Petra.” As he turned and walked away I thought I heard him say, “I’m an ass man, myself.”
But after four double Baileys I couldn’t trust my hearing.
Tossing my bag unto the table, I took a tall glass out of the cupboard and filled it at my fridge’s ice dispenser. The litre bottle of Baileys that I had started the night before was still on the coffee table where I’d left it. My mouth watered as I poured the creamy liquid slowly over the ice cubes, filling the glass to the rim.
It was a relief to kick off my four-inch heels, sink onto my leather recliner and massage my aching feet. I always wore flat shoes and sensible clothes to work, yet I doubted that any of the guys had noticed that I had made a special effort today. I had hoped that Tyrone would have come home with me tonight. He was strongly built, but not attractive enough for Jewel. She’d told me that she would fuck him if nothing else was available, but there always was. He occasionally flirted with me and I’d thought that he was interested, but the way he had been ogling Jewel tonight I doubted that he remembered that I was alive. The next time he came sniffing around me I would take great pleasure in telling him to buzz off!
Reaching for the glass, now deliciously frosted, I noticed an unfamiliar card among the spilled contents of my bag. It was a plain white card with an even plainer message: ‘Sexy lady, call me if you want a night to remember.’
Where had it come from?
I thought for a moment and then laughed out loud. The guys must have picked it up from a telephone kiosk and slipped it into my bag while I wasn’t looking. They always jokingly teased me that the only way I could have sex is if I paid for it. I scrunched up the card and tossed it back on to the table.
Taking a sip of Baileys, I leaned back against the chair. The night had been a disaster. Thank God I hadn’t put the entire five hundred pounds behind the bar as I had originally planned. I would have definitely burst that blood vessel.
Tomorrow I would go to the West End and blow the rest of it on whatever took my fancy: a pair of shoes or a nice bag. I would have blown it on the guys if they had acted right. I’ll blow it on myself instead, I decided. I turned my head lazily to ensure that the remaining two hundred and fifty pounds were still safely inside my bag and caught sight of the crumpled card. Suddenly it clicked—Tyrone, that sneaky devil! He must have created the card specially for me. All that pretending that he had lost interest had only been a cover.
I hastily smoothened the card and misdialled the listed mobile number twice before I got it right.
A husky male voice answered, “Hello?”
There was music in the background. He was still at the wine bar.
“Are you available to come to my house tonight?” I asked, playing along.
“What’s your address?”
I gave it to him, although I had given it to him two weeks ago with an invitation to visit me whenever he was free.
“Sorry, my car’s being fixed and it would cost too much to come by cab tonight. I’ll jump on a bus and be at your house for ten tomorrow evening.”
He was good. His accent sounded different, almost American.
“Stop fooling around, Tyrone.”
“Tyrone? Lady, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
Shit! It really wasn’t Tyrone!
Suddenly I thought, Fuck you guys for fucking with me! I’m a liberated woman. I earn enough money to pay a man to fuck me if I want to!
“Look, Escort today’s my birthday. I will pay you two hundred and fifty pounds if you come tonight,” I enticed. He seemed to need the money and I really didn’t need another pair of shoes or another bag.
The guys would be stunned on Monday when I thanked them for the card and told them what a brilliant time I’d had.
“Okay,” he said, after a long pause. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
He turned up ten minutes later than promised and in a Spiderman outfit. I immediately regretted making the call. He was skinny. Well, not skinny, he was lean and lightly muscled—I’d wanted built like an ox with rippling muscles. He was short, only about two or three inches taller than my five-foot-six. I wanted six-foot-two or -three, or even -six. And a superhero given superpowers after being bitten by a spider is just not sexy as far as I’m concerned. I usually run a mile when I see one of those eight-legged creatures. Once I didn’t shower for two days just because a monstrously large daddy longlegs took up residence in my bathroom and refused to leave.
It looked as though my disappointing night was set to become even more disappointing. He looked as though he would give me the night to remember I wanted—one so bad I’d never forget it!
I wondered if he would take fifty pounds and leave quietly.
“You said it was your birthday?” he asked, stepping through the door and into my house before I could tell him that I had changed my mind. Then I noticed the word ‘Webman’ written across the chest of his suit and realized that it was not quite the same design as my not-so-favourite superhero. Now, that was a much cooler name, and I could associate it with the World Wide Web, instead of something spun by a horrible hairy creature.
“Yes,” I confirmed, realizing that he was waiting for a response.
“Then I’m going to give you an extra special treat.” He walked straight over to the coffee table and drained my half-filled glass without asking. “Ice-cubes, just the thing.”
I opened my mouth to reprimand him for his lack of manners, but he pulled me down onto his lap as he sat in the chair and kissed me before I could draw breath, slipping his tongue deep into my mouth.
I hadn’t given any thought to what we would do when he got here, but whatever it was I had assumed that I would be the one in control. Kissing has always felt more intimate than sex for me. I’ve had two one-night stands and hadn’t kissed either guy. One of them, a semi pro-footballer I’d met at a pub had gotten angry and called me a ‘slag’ because I refused to kiss him although I had gone down on him and swallowed.
I tried to twist out of Webman’s embrace. His sinewy arms tightened around me and I was powerless to move as he plundered my mouth for several minutes. I struggled weakly, but I loved the way he took control.
He seemed to sense that I was just putting up a token resistance and continued.
Finally breaking the kiss, he grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back as he opened the buttons of my shirt one-handed. Slipping his red-leather gloved hand into my lace bra, he freed my right breast and covered my nipple with his mouth. He teased it with his tongue and teeth until it was erect, in the process making me drench the tiny gusset of the white lacy thong which matched my bra.
“Perfect,” he murmured as he reached out blindly to the glass behind him on the table, seeming too mesmerized by my elongated, hardened nipple to look away. I had always wanted more breast and less nipple, suddenly I wouldn’t have minded another inch or two of nipple.
He took an ice cube from the glass and sucked it dry before rubbing it against my nipple. It was so cold it burned like fire.
“Perfect, just perfect,” he kept muttering under his breath, watching intently as my nipple grew larger and larger. The ice slowly melted and trickled down my breast, dampening the lace of my bra. When it had almost melted he reached into the glass again and popped a few cubes into his mouth and crunched them as he continued his cold assault on my nipple with a fresh cube. Leaning closer he blew a freezing blast of air across my already frozen nipple making it so painfully hard I feared it would snap off.
“That hurts!” I complained, struggling to free my hands and rescue my nipple.
“I decide what hurts, not you.” He put the remaining ice cube into his mouth and reached for his belt.
Before I knew what he intended he had spun me around and tied the supple leather tightly around my wrists. For the first time a frisson of fear ran through me. He was a stranger and far stronger than he looked.
“Now where were we?” he asked coolly as he turned me back around, placing my legs astride his so that I was facing him fully. The tight, fitted costume flattened his features. If I had to give a description to the police later I doubted that it would be accurate. The only things visible were his eyes, dark, fathomless Bayan Escort pools and his lips, full and soft, and a little feminine.
He picked up a fresh ice cube and attacked my poor nipple again. I bit my lip and threw my head back as I hissed through my teeth. The sensations were so intense I couldn’t decide if they were pleasurable or painful.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he commanded. I want you to watch what I’m doing to you.”
My nipple had never swollen to this size. It was unbearably erotic, like watching another woman’s breast in an extreme state of arousal.
“Do you like pain?” he asked conversationally.
“No,” I denied hastily, deciding that this was not the time to indulge my mild BDSM fantasies.
“Pain can be pleasurable. If I had a pair of nipple clamps I would have demonstrated the pleasure-pain principle to you more effectively, but….”
With that he bent his head and bit my frozen nipple hard. I screamed and involuntarily ground myself against him until the sensation ebbed.
“See what I mean.” Smiling he reached around and unhooked my bra. My left breast emerged, the nipple almost as painfully hard as the other.
“You have perfect nipples for clamps,” he murmured as he dipped his head and took it between his teeth. He exerted just enough pressure to get me wriggling again, trying to get my clit positioned over his erection. He let me enjoy the sweet friction for a few minutes and then moved me away.
“I want you inside me now,” I demanded. Did he forget that I was paying him?
“First, let me see if you deserve my dick,” he responded, coolly slipping his hand between our bodies and touching the gusset of my panties.
“Is that wet enough for you?” I taunted, knowing that I was dripping. An ex-boyfriend had once told me if I bottled my pussy juice and sold it as lubricant I could retire before the age of thirty on the proceeds.
Webman ignored my question as he pulled the scrap of material aside and pushed two gloved fingers inside me. The leather felt strange at first, but soon his long fingers were drenched with my juices and slipping smoothly in and out.
“Time for some dick.” He stood up abruptly, almost tumbling me to the floor.
“Be careful!” I screamed in panic, trying frantically to grasp him around the hips with my legs since my hands were still tied behind my back.
“I wouldn’t let you fall.” He pressed a kiss against my neck, then quickly loosened the belt and re-tied it, so that my arms were now wrapped around the back of the chair.
“It’s too tight,” I moaned.
It was more uncomfortable than painful, but it made me aware once again that I was completely at his mercy.
“Just relax,” he whispered, stroking my arms until I released the tense muscles. “That’s better.”
Kneeling in front of the chair, he draped my legs over the chair handles and flipped up the hem of my short, flared denim skirt.
“Next time don’t shave,” he said, as he slipped the same two fingers under the gusset and up inside me again.
“There won’t be a next…. Ow!”
He had quickly squeezed a third finger alongside the other two and pressed them unceremoniously deeper.
“There will be a next time. And a next,” he informed me, arrogantly holding my gaze and daring me to refute his statement. I wanted to, but my wayward hips were straining upwards to meet the thrust of his fingers. Not bothering to hide his triumph he pressed my pussy lips open with his free hand and buried his fingers to the hilt. “You have a hungry pussy. I bet I could get four fingers, and even my fist, inside you.”
Even as my pussy walls clenched at the thought of him squeezing another finger past my entrance, he stood up and pulled his hand free, leaving me writhing helplessly, my pussy convulsing around the emptiness.
He stepped out of his briefs and his meaty cock, covered in what looked to be a custom-made red leather sheath, sprung free. Using both hands, he smoothed a few tiny ripples out of the fabric and pulled the sheath more securely over his erection before moving back between my legs and spanking my clit with the heavy shaft.
“Naughty, naughty pussy.” He spoke to my clit, completely ignoring me as he placed the head against my entrance and spread his legs slightly, in readiness for his first thrust.
“Aren’t you going to take it off?” I asked in surprise.
“This will stop me from coming too quickly,” he said, breaching my entrance. “And believe me, you haven’t been fucked until you have been fucked by leather.”
He had an unbelievably thick cock and the sheath added to the already substantial girth. My pussy walls were forced relentlessly apart as he pressed deeper, and yet I tilted upwards to take every last millimetre inside me.
“Didn’t your mother warn you not to let strangers into your house?” he asked, staring into my eyes.
“Yes,” I moaned as he withdrew and held himself at my entrance.
“Then you deserve to be punished for being a naughty girl.” Hooking my legs over his arms, he pressed me further into the chair and started a smooth, hard, fast rhythm of partial withdrawal and full deposit.
Greedily I rammed myself against him as I felt the contractions start deep inside my womb.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32