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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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(Based on a true story, but I took some liberties for your entertainment )
We had spent the night at my favourite restaurant - steak, cigars and whisky, after all it was my birthday - and Katie had dressed up to please me. A wrap dress, short heels and small-holed fishnet tights, finished off with fuck-me red lipstick and hair up in a clip, which by now was getting a bit straggly as her eyes flickered between a dirty glint and a d*unk haze. She sat on me as I sat at the bus stop, grinding almost whimsically, like you'd grind against a pillow or a mattress in the throes of a half-awake dirty dream.
She'd been doing this all night. From the moment she arrived, late, to the pub we were meeting in, she had eyes for little other than my cock. Her hands would creep towards it under the bench, talk would always drift back towards sex. Every object that touched her lips would become somehow phallic - her order of sausages and mash were obviously phallic ("Who orders sausages at a steak restaurant?" I quipped. "Someone who considers it an appetiser", she responded. It.. didn't really make sense) but she would manage it with anything. When drinking she would look me dead in the eye, as I tried to talk about my work (or her work, or the menu), and playfully flick the edges of the beer glass with her tongue. Then when drinking she would take the glass right up to her face, making her throat clearly visible as she took a sharp glug - an action that looked exactly like she'd just taken a cock right down the back of her throat, if only briefly. She'd then put the drink down and smile, wet from the beer that had been resting against her top lip. Sometimes she'd have a little dribble of foam running down her chin, which she'd leave for you to point out before wiping it away, grinning to let you know she knew full well what was running down her chin, and exactly what it looked like.
The bus was coming, but I'm not sure I can get up. Thinking about all this, mixed with Katie's fishnet-ribbed bum grinding against my lap, was pretty much enough to get me noticed on the streets of London. No bus yet. |