He writes like I think. He’s been reading me for a while. He also has a beautiful cock. He said I inspired him to write this, and that I can do with it what I want. I want to share it. Something about his cool confidence…. makes me bite my bottom lip and shift in my chair. Thank you Travon, you moved me.

—

I hate these things. Not necessarily the event itself. Free drinks, ok food, the not-so-bad-but moody lighting. It’s the bullshit politeness.

Hi. I’m Jay. How are you? Really? Insert generic response. Drink more. Talk for a few minutes…but not too long. Depart gladly. Wash Rinse Repeat.

But, I don’t mind. Like I said, free drinks can make me go just about anywhere. Plus, any chance to dress up in a suit and tie makes me smile a little. Nothing says I walk the tightrope of confidence and arrogance like a nicely fitted black suit.

Oh, and then there’s that ass.

I know it’s not polite to look or stare or gawk. Then again, it can’t be fair to wander into this lovely affair with a skirt showing off your lovely legs and accent your shapely, plump ass with a touch of panty line. To hand a champagne flute with a deft hand, ever so softly grazing your lips before swallowing it down like it was nothing, then give me a smile that wants more.

I move towards you, trying to keep an air of cool swagger. As if I am some hitman from a long lost French movie and you are some smoking dame, knowing the world wants you.

Hi. I’m Jay. How are…?

Your laugh cuts through the script. Your eyes burn through me and tell me to cut the crap. Then you proceed to tell me: that you have been watching me, watching you. That you noticed I have been enjoying the wiggle in your walk. You lean in closer and whisper that you did it a bit more than usual, a subtle thank you. You feed me a false name while feeling me up, resting your hands on my chest. My cock stirs with your touch and words.

My cool is shot. Damn. Then comes the squeeze…

“Stop being polite,” you coo. Your wiggle swings it’s way into the bathroom. Looking back, your eyes tell me to follow.

Lock turns. Click. Heels click on the tile. A swivel and you lean back. Breast full and heaving. Lipstick expertly applied and red. We fall into a vicious kiss. Maybe it was lust, maybe it was the scene, maybe we aren’t polite people… but it felt right. My hands squeeze your ass. Breath becomes harder and raw. A light, wicked laugh escapes your lips.

“That’s all you got, hun?” fills my ears.

Alright. I pull away and throw your hips around. Your face fills the mirror. My eyes fill with lust. You capture my amazement as I pull down your lacey panties. Full, luscious, demanding to be worshipped. My left hand grazes your bottom, with my right hand I finger your wet cunt. The shudders and moans begin. There is no more goading, no more sly remarks. Just wanting, no- needing to cum. Hard. Often. Raw.

I watch you write under my fingers. Not to escape. It’s an uncontrollable motion. All the better to fuck you my dear, my wolf eyes reveal. Breasts spill out of your smart top and into your grasping hands. A swift swat on your ass fill the air of your juices, my groans, our lust.

“Fuck me,” you demand.

“Be polite, dear.”

“Fuck me, please,” you beg.

My cock is pleased at the request. Any more of this and it would end in ruin. Instead, it begins with your hungry cunt taking me in. We sigh at this release. Your round ass feels good and moves softly. Fingers dig into your waist, lost in your cries. No more words. Only grunts, moans, curses. Sounds of wet flesh. Bodies singing the others’ praises. You feel me about to cum. You are close again. The hunger makes you back into me. Matching my thrusts. Filling you up. It’s too much, but you love it.

My cum flows into your pussy, but you keep going. You can’t be denied. Won’t. Pussy thrashing and ravenous. I call on your as I give you one last bump, and you gush once more.

We slink off, tasting each other on our skin. Your sweat, my lips. Our eyes love once more. “It was nice meeting you, love.” I let out.

“Likewise sugar. Have a good night.” Your clothes are straightened out, and you are gone.