Her Plan

2 min read

photo: Viv Thomas

I love when she wears that skirt. Black, down to just above the knee, and it swishes wonderfully. It goes with everything.
And so I know that today’s ‘day at the mall’ is going to be a whole lot of fun.
She has a plan, of course, but so do I.

I tease her.

Whispering dirty things in her ear at the food court.
Helping her try on shoes, so I can touch the back of her thigh discreetly.
Or not so discreetly.
Reciting dirty poems to her in the bookstore, and following her into the changing room at Macy’s.
My hands are, somehow, always on her.
Not her clothes.
Under her blouse at the small of her back.
On her neck.
Her knee.
Her foot in my lap under the table.
Every touch says ‘mine’. Every touch says ‘I WILL have this’.
She’s wonderfully flustered.

I piss her off.
I let her see my eyes wander.
I make sure she overhears me flirting with a girl far too young for me.
I tell her stories about my interactions online, and let her read some of the emails the girl I used to work with still sends me.
I go to the bathroom and jerk off, then make sure she knows.
She isn’t the jealous type, but she wants my attentions on her, dammit.

She nearly drags me to the car, wanting to get home NOW, because that’s really where her plan starts. I’ve screwed it all up.
Of course.

She starts the car, but before she can put it in gear, my arm is across her throat. Not painfully, or even threateningly, just pinning her.
My hand goes under her skirt, and finds the long, firm toy strapped to her thigh, and I set it free.
I lift her skirt the rest of the way, and the shaft rises up, like porn.
“I need this,” my voice soft, but demanding.
I lean over and take her in my mouth, like a high school girl putting out.
And she moans like the boy getting some.
I’ve wanted this for so long, even dirtier in the car.
My head bobs slowly, then quickly. My drool coats the cock.
She coos words, like bitch, and cunt and slut.
And the scent of her is almost too much.
I twist for a moment, to enjoy the glazed look in her eyes.
I am far harder than the toy.
But it isn’t enough.
My hand fumbles at first, then finally finds its way under the straps, under the base.
My fingers move easily inside her, moving in time with my mouth.
Her back bends, she cries out just a little bit, then starts breathing in short gasps.
My fingers control her breath. My mouth controls her breath.
Her words become imploring…not dirty…beautiful boy, hungry kitten, sexy thing.
Her eyes are closed, but I know she’s fighting it. She doesn’t want to cum. Still wants to wait.
Well, that won’t do.
I stop everything, and look up, hurt.
“Please…don’t you want to cum in my mouth?”
She sobs.
My mouth and fingers work.
She cums.
And cums.
She’s nothing but shaking flesh, for a long time after.
But I make sure she watches me lick my fingers clean.
And my hand strokes her cock the entire ride home.

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