I am forty-five years old, a bit overweight with heavy breasts and a curvy butt. I don’t have any friends to share secrets with—nobody who really knows me. On the outside, I’m a “Miss Goody Two-Shoes,” but on the inside, I need to be someone else. I am always the one in control at work and at home. I’m tired of being in control; tonight, I want to be controlled. I am on the prowl, and I know just the place to begin my hunt.
I sit at a high-end bar called XVIII. I’m minding everyone’s business but my own, focusing specifically on an older gentleman in his sixties sitting alone in a booth. He’s handsome, with silver hair and a matching goatee. There is something so magnetic about an older man who looks like he knows how to take charge. I know what I want, and I’m hyper-focused on him.
I try to make eye contact with the silver fox, but he keeps his gaze fixed on his almost-empty glass, like he’s searching for answers in the ice. I want his attention, but I’m done being subtle. I decide to be straightforward.
I walk over to his booth and slide in across from him. He looks up, appearing puzzled that a voluptuous younger woman has just invaded his space. I don’t let him wonder for long.
“I’m sorry to be so forward,” I say, “but I’ve decided never to tell a lie again. I want you to know that I find you too handsome to be staring into your drink with a look of regret. Can I buy you another and help you make some new regrets?”
He looks at me as if he’s trying to read my mind. I can see the shift in his expression—the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. I can tell he likes what he sees, and the way he shifts in his seat suggests he’s already reacting to my presence.
Without introducing myself, I reach out and take his hand. I rub the center of his palm with my index finger, a silent signal of exactly what I want him to do to me. He searches my eyes for a sign that I’m joking, but all he finds is heat and lust.
He grips my hand and rises, pulling me up from the booth and leading me out of the bar toward the parking garage. When we reach his car, he turns to me, his voice low as he asks if I’m ready for what’s coming. I reach out, brushing my hand against the prominent bulge in his pants.
“I want to be your fuck toy tonight,” I tell him.
We get into the car, and he immediately unzips, releasing his hard cock. Before he can even give the command, I bend over, eagerly taking the head of him into my warm, wet mouth. He rests his hands on my head to hold me there, but I have no intention of letting go. I twirl my tongue around the tip, tasting the precum leaking from his slit.
I lick my way down the length of his shaft and back up again. I open wide, sucking my way down the hard rod, my tongue circling and dancing. I bob my head, rhythmically stroking him. I feel him swell against my tongue and know he’s close.
I focus on taking him deep. Little by little, I swallow until I’ve taken his entire length into my throat. I massage him with my throat muscles, and he responds by shooting ropes of cum down my throat. I swallow every drop before licking him clean.
He grabs the back of my neck and pulls my face up to his. He kisses me hard, tasting himself on my lips. He zips up and looks at me, gauging my resolve. The fire in my eyes tells him everything he needs to know: he needs to take me home.
I keep my hand on his thigh for the entire ride. I can feel the tension in his muscles; he wants to touch me, but he keeps both hands gripped on the wheel.
When we arrive at his house, he offers me a drink. I decline—I don’t want to wash away his taste yet. He leads me to the bedroom and gives his first direct command: “Strip and lie face up on the bed.”
He divests himself of his clothes and joins me. He pushes my knees apart, marking my inner thigh with a hard, bruising hickey. He leans in close, his breath hot against me. I see the hunger in his eyes as he buries his face in my lap. He drags his tongue through my wet slit, traveling slowly from top to bottom. My labia feel swollen and sensitive as he feasts on me, penetrating me with two fingers at the same time. He sucks and gently nips at me, finding my clit and teasing it with his teeth.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, my breath hitching as the orgasm builds. I buck my pelvis, pushing his fingers deeper. My walls clench around him, spasming uncontrollably. I explode, squirting into his mouth as I writhe and moan until the waves slowly subside.
He looks up at me, his expression dominant. “This is just the beginning,” he says, stroking himself as he looks me over. “On your knees. Face in the pillow, ass up.”
He lifts his hand and delivers a sharp spank to my right cheek, then the left. He begins to rotate, massaging the skin where he just struck me. I moan in pure pleasure, feeling the moisture drip down my thighs as I beg him for more.
To be continued.
