I’d seen him a few weeks before – we had a mutual friend. It was then he’d caught my eye – his were dark and brooding. Tonight I chose to sit next to him. Someone began to place the drinks down on our large table and we all took our respective tipple. I felt a little dazed as I could smell him. Not an aftershave or cologne, him. I could smell his body, his sex, his love of life and women. My heart involuntarily beat faster.
I quickly took a glimpse. He had one or two buttons undone on his shirt and a light splattering of dark chest hair peeped through. Yeah, he was sexy alright.
Cat pushed in beside me, catapulting me back to reality.
“Budge up,” she mewed, elbowing me as she shimmied along the wooden bench.
He began to talk to the overly made up woman opposite us. She was older than me, and let’s be frank, more used. I didn’t fear her power – I could smell him.
The conversation was buoyant with all in the group trying to share their opinion. Turning to me he said,
“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?“
Perhaps he could tell I was a slightly flushed – because he was near.
I smiled at him and replied,
“A little – I have felt hotter though,” trying to sound blasé.
Under the table I felt his hand land confidently on my knee, working its way slowly to my thigh. All the while continuing a conversation with the woman opposite.
My cunt contracted and my breathing quickened.
She got up to visit the toilet.
Taking a moment to calm myself I inhaled and stated, “You like her,“ with a mocking side glance at him.
As his hand continued to caress my thigh, he smirked, looking me straight in the eye.
Cat asked if I fancied a game of pool. We got up to play and during the whole match I felt his eyes busying themselves with me. Literally boring a hole. I didn’t doubt his x-rated vision could see right through to my skimpy cream lace knickers and naked cunt. As I leaned down to play a shot I saw him at the end of the cue, a bullseye, staring at my lowered cleavage.
After the game, I went to the bar. It was very crowded so I waited to be served. Then I smelled him. I moved slightly over as he pushed his body up against mine. I could feel him breathing on my neck, and the hardness of his torso pressed next to me in the crowd – but still, I kept my position at the bar.
Very quietly but distinctly he whispered in my ear,
“You should keep away from me. I want you, I need to tie you up, whip and fuck you.”
He placed his hand palm down on my left hip, right near my pubis, and dug his nails in hard.
The bar lady smiled and asked,
“What can I get you?”
I gulped and told her,
“A bottle of Pils lager and…” I turned to him – “what do you want to drink?”
Out loud and proud he answered,
The jukebox was playing last years Christmas number one by the Spice Girls, drowning out his reply, so the barmaid repeated my query. He answered,
“Oh… whisky with ice please.”
I turned to face him and we sipped our drinks, intently focused on each other.
“You don’t frighten me.” I mouthed over the music.
I looked at his hand holding the glass of whisky. Strong nimble fingers. How I wanted their touch.
“I actually want you to tie me up” – the mere thought of it sending spasms from my gut to my cunt.
Without hesitation, he leaned forward brushing his mouth against mine. His tongue resting momentarily against my lips. His hand twisted in front of him and felt for my cunt – pushing a finger into the warm, fragrant gap between my corduroy jean-clad thighs. He rubbed. My head reclined slightly and my mouth opened.
Bringing his hand up towards his nose he visibly sniffed his fingertips. Looking down he put one to his lips, and slowly and deliberately licked it – his eyes locked on mine.
I took a moment to catch my breath then stood in repose.
Taking my head into his hands he leaned forward and once more whispered huskily into my ear,
“You are not ready for me yet.”
All of a sudden the music from the jukebox was terminated – the din of voices, laughter, clinking of glasses and bottles filled the air. The Christmas tree and pub lights were dimmed, as the stage in the corner of the pub lit up.
A hand landed on his shoulder and a voice said,
“Come on Rik, grab your guitar, we’re up next.”
This is a part fiction, part non-fiction post. I took some past truths and put them all in the same place at the same time, and topped it off with a little artistic licence 😉 Another half and half story.
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