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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Written for somebody...
You are looking to unwind...to try and get the stain of the days stress from your soul...which you really know will never happen because at a moments notice somebody could message or call and it'll be 'three, two, one, you're back in the room...snap'. So instead you just enjoy getting distracted by people...distracted by all sorts of people...and the biggest and best distraction for you is to sit and get turned on...just by looking, by watching...your mind is connected to your body in such a way that you can set yourself free by straining against your common sense...straining against you're home life..your schooling, growing up, uni...everything...pressing against the skin of the reality that has been your existence...and finding deep, parts of your soul, your sex, to be the vanguard in this action...so you can sit and look...like the look of a guy - somebody who just catches your imagination...and you can swim in the richness of what goes on inside your mind - reaching out with your soul...and allowing a stirring of your sex...yes, an actual stirring..a physical reaction between your thighs...getting turned on, feeling the moistening grow...just sitting there...and nobody in the world, just by looking at you knows a thing about it. There may be the odd exchange of eye contact, but you're pretty good at holding it a bit too long, then looking away....and it's in those moments that you get the flashes...flashes of impulse...see that guy...follow him down an alley way...let him push a hand up the inside of your skirt and pull your knickers to one side...
Back in the room...it's crowded...you are feeling stirred and dangerous...when you notice somebody looking at you - a man...quiet, peaceful...but with absolute intent...watching you...making no bones about engaging with you in a way that people just don't do....
He looks fair and strong...not an unpleasant face...hard to place...does he belong in Surrey? He seems not from your world...and yet there's something about him - his attention doesn't seem dangerous. Sitting at your table, sipping your coffee, you shift position, aware of your stocking tops rubbing against one another, causing a small flash of electricity to run up the inside of your soul...you look down and look up...and in that split second of eye movement...you realise he was doing the same thing...looking down at your legs, sticking out from the table...the result is that his look becomes a shared experience, like he can see inside of your soul...and maybe he can. He seems almost to be from another age...he sits a contradiction - an anachronism that somehow belongs...just there...and as you make your observations, you are aware of a deep calling inside of you...a stirring that you can no longer deny...so you begin a focus...a fixation...an allowance, a beginning of the thoughts that you refer to as 'the dark alley'...the place that you sometimes have gone to in your life when you know...that it's not right...but you also know that for you..it's not wrong...it just is what it is...the tightening of your stomach...the feeling of warmth between your legs...a stirring of the senses...a stirring of the non senses...the senseless..because under this influence...the flood of hormone and desire...hits you in such a heady mix that you simply do things your 'professional' self would shake her head at...
And your train of thought is interrupted by this man pushing back his chair and standing up...
You now fly into an internal turmoil...all sorts of things passing through your head now...and the loudest voice is screaming 'what the fuck are you doing....just look away...let this moment pass...' the voice that wins out...you look down, then another direction...then...you realise he is walking towards your table...
The determination that defines who you are...gives you the power to stand and deliver your professionalism also has a dark side...and it's this side that now shouts down all the sensible reactions..and you find yourself looking up at him as he approaches...directly towards you...but then you realise that whilst he is holding his gaze on you..he's also heading for the door...and still holding your gaze...he opens the door and stops...and just quietly looks at you...in reality his expression is blank...and it leaves you with so many questions...but as he carries on walking through the door - and again, looking at you as he walks past the glass and out onto the high street. You find yourself in a moment of indecision...then that resolution steps in..it quietly pushes both doors open in your soul...the sequence is set and the dye is cast...you stand...and you follow...
Once out onto the high street (is it the high street? the semi pedestrian end?) . you see him 30-40m infront of you, walking at a pace...so you start to follow..and the moment you do, he turns and looks, without breaking stride..so you resolve to follow..to keep pace...with a steady gathering of pace of your heart, which you can now hear inside your head as the pressure and pulse increase...you follow.
He leads across the road, passed the star...towards the church, detouring down towards the main rd and debenhams where he crosses, past the theatre and to the car park, occasionally looking back, as you look up...a sense of destiny now obvious in this shared moment.
You arrive at the car park and not sure where he went, you look around...then notice his form, standing next to a large 4x4..the door is open...and he's standing there...waiting for you to see him...which you do and start to walk...and this is the final moment...the moment where again, your internal voice is screaming, and you're doing the most supreme job of suppressing it...and channeling the energy into getting to the car...as you get closer, you realise he has climbed in...into the rear seat behind the drivers seat...and you then notice the blacked out windows...you pause in step...then regain your composure and emboldened reach the car, opening the opposite door. Inside is dark...you can tell that he's there...and you climb in....which is a step up, and a shuffle round...and there, once the door is slammed...you sit for a second...and close your eyes...
The moment you close your eyes you become aware of the sound of movement...and in these slightly cramped conditions...cornered and a bit uncomfortable you feel a hand touch your knee. The power of the touch, gentle at first - a searching...a gentle touch...testing the water...you keep your eyes closed as you feel that hand slide up the top of your leg...up the inside hem of your skirt, pushing further and further...your breathing turns to mild gasping...and you find yourself almost in a reflex action, turning your head and opening your eyes...and there he is...no words..just looks...and now such a direct look of intention in his eyes that it almost shocks you...you sense the urgency to part your legs, thighs pulling taught on your skirt, allowing a space for his hands to reach between your thighs and touch the depths of your most intimate space...and it's where you want him...God..Fuck..you so want him to touch you...you reach down and grab his arm, thrusting it further between your legs...and the feeling of his finger tips reaching the your vaginal lips through the material of your knickers sends another deep shock wave through your body...still clasping his arm, you feel the strength tension in his forearm and he now starts to gently rub your crotch...feeling for your clitoris and the edge of your lips, pressing the material of your underwear between them....
His eyes are drilling into your soul now as you become breathless as he continues his exploration...
He shuffles position...and you feel him pull your knickers to one side....an act you simply resign yourself to, as a single digit slides inside you...but it's like falling down a hole...the strength of the arm, the directness of the insertion, leaves you feeling stuck and gorged all at the same time...you close your eyes and concentrate on breathing as you raise one leg higher than the other, to increase the aperture with which he's able to work...and work he does, sliding at first this single digit inside and out, changing the direction and drag of your lips...each penetration calling you deeper and deeper into that pool. There is a pause whilst he re-arranges his hand to tickle and tease your clitoris...but you sense there is dissatisfaction with the result- despite it being light and enticing for you...but nonetheless you feel his hands reach down to your thighs - which causes you to immediately open your eyes..and you see what he's trying to do...and for a few seconds you both shuffle your way around on the back seat, blacked windows protecting your acts in this quiet car par...and there you are now, with both legs on the seat, one pushed against the back of the front seat...him pushing your skirt higher, tighter around your bottom, releasing your vagina to the cold night air...a strange sensation as your knickers are still pulled to one side...but the coolness is broken by the sensation of something warm and wet...as he plants his head between your legs..and begins to tease, flick, and taste your clitoris...long deep strokes up your lips, ending in concentrated flicking, licking and hungry assault on your sexual organs...
And there...in the back of the car...you're feeling pulled into this whirlpool...this wonderful pool that offers you sheer pleasure...a feeling so pure and unfettered by the rest of life...and with that though...an orgasm is birthed in the shake and quiver of your feet...working up your legs..and as he continues to go down on you...to devour your pussy in all it's cunty tasting glory...you orgasm...deeply...letting out a breathless cry of release...which seems to last for a long, long time, wave after wave...uncontrollable shakes and warmth after warmth...
It's like you've had headphones on and somebody has transported you to another world...and as you start to return to this plain of existence, you become aware of his face appearing between your open legs...with the pungency of orgasm having soaked your skirt...
Your professional voice screams once again at you...but you stamp it down and use it's energy instead to right your body...and single mindedly reach out to his midrift where you undo his belt and unzip his trousers - again, holding his gaze...whilst finding the material holding back his rect penis...you find a way in, and taking the shaft in your hand, you pull your head down onto his warm, salty cock...his hands reaching up, taking your head and guiding you, throwing his head back with shear pleasure...there's no point in holding off, with your tongue, mouth and throat devouring every centimetre of this manhood...with loud, deeply organic tribal music sounding in his head...you call a deep, throbbing orgasm, drawn up from the testicles, through the shaft and injected deep into the back of the throat where you can just about taste the salty semen...and there you pulse and twitch together until completion...both still tense, you release yourselves...you lifting up your head and instinctively wiping the corners of your mouth.
There is a pause...a silence...and then he reaches over across your body and opens the door to his car...
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