then his finger is stroking my clit.
I have trouble sitting still. My hips want to grind, but the way I’m sitting keeps them from being able to move. To insure that, his hand is on my ass, pressing down hard to keep it from coming up at all, and I concentrate on his touch and the heat from his skin on mine. He speeds up his motions and I feel it, the building and gnawing sensation, and then I’m coming, my pussy throbbing and clit pulsing, and I’m trying hard to keep from asking him to stop. And all of a sudden, he does.
His hand strokes down my spine like a breath, and I sigh. “Feel okay?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Yes, Sir. I do, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I remember to say. That’s what I think I’m supposed to say anyway.
“You’re welcome. Straighten out and lie down here with me.” When I manage to roll onto my side and I’m facing him, I’m surprised to find him lying there looking at me with those deep, dark eyes, waiting for me to cuddle up against him.
I wiggle into his arms, and he wraps them around me. His lips move toward my forehead, and then he stops. It’s obvious he’s reconsidered the kissing thing. He lifts his head up and back, presses my face into his neck, then drops his chin onto the part in my hair. I lie there for a few minutes, wishing he’d say something to me, taking in his scent. He smells like cinnamon and the smoke from a fireplace, all warm and spicy. Even though I’m sure he doesn’t give a whit about me, something in his embrace is comfortable and familiar.
Finally, he says, “That was a good start,” and abruptly turns me loose. What the hell? I’m kind of bewildered. I guess he thinks that’s enough cuddling.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Did I do something wrong?”
He takes on a sheepish look, and I could almost swear his cheeks are pinking up. “No, no, you did quite well. But I’ve got to get home. I hope you got something out of this.”
“I did. I feel very confident, Sir. Thank you again, Sir.” It’s very sad. I thought maybe I’d get to know him a little better tonight. I mean, the guy just fucked me in the ass, for god’s sake. But he’s not going to open up to me at all. I almost think I hear him sigh as he’s getting dressed. When he’s ready to go, he turns back to me. I’m still on the bed, naked and waiting. I don’t know if it’s okay for me to get dressed or not.
“Sub, before you go, I want you to pleasure yourself. Then you may get dressed and leave.” He doesn’t even smile.
“Thank you, Sir,” is all I can manage.
To my surprise, he crosses the room and puts his fingers under my chin, lifting my face up to look at him. “You did quite well tonight, Trish. You’re going to make a good sub for some lucky Dom someday, I can tell.” With that, he turns and strides out of the room.
I slip my hand down between my legs and start to stroke my over-sensitized nub. It only takes me a few minutes to come, his face in my memory, and then I’m ready to leave. As I dress, I see something on the floor.
It’s a business card – Clint’s business card. He must’ve dropped it. The face of the card is a deep green, almost black, and in gold letters are the words, “Clinton Alexander Winstead, Corporate Training and Efficiency Consultant. Reasonable Hourly Rates. Specializing in the Small Business Community.” So that’s what he does for a living – he’s a consultant. I realize the only place I have to keep the card is in my bra, so that’s where it goes for the time being.
When I get back to the bar, Clint’s nowhere in sight, but Dave’s back. “What in the hell did you do to him in there?” he asks me, an weird look in his eyes.
I scrunch my face up and raise one eyebrow. “What do you mean?” To my knowledge, I didn’t do a damn thing to him.
“Something happened. He was almost running when he came back out here and barely spoke, just went rushing out the door.”
I shrug. “I didn’t do anything, I don’t
I have trouble sitting still. My hips want to grind, but the way I’m sitting keeps them from being able to move. To insure that, his hand is on my ass, pressing down hard to keep it from coming up at all, and I concentrate on his touch and the heat from his skin on mine. He speeds up his motions and I feel it, the building and gnawing sensation, and then I’m coming, my pussy throbbing and clit pulsing, and I’m trying hard to keep from asking him to stop. And all of a sudden, he does.
His hand strokes down my spine like a breath, and I sigh. “Feel okay?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Yes, Sir. I do, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I remember to say. That’s what I think I’m supposed to say anyway.
“You’re welcome. Straighten out and lie down here with me.” When I manage to roll onto my side and I’m facing him, I’m surprised to find him lying there looking at me with those deep, dark eyes, waiting for me to cuddle up against him.
I wiggle into his arms, and he wraps them around me. His lips move toward my forehead, and then he stops. It’s obvious he’s reconsidered the kissing thing. He lifts his head up and back, presses my face into his neck, then drops his chin onto the part in my hair. I lie there for a few minutes, wishing he’d say something to me, taking in his scent. He smells like cinnamon and the smoke from a fireplace, all warm and spicy. Even though I’m sure he doesn’t give a whit about me, something in his embrace is comfortable and familiar.
Finally, he says, “That was a good start,” and abruptly turns me loose. What the hell? I’m kind of bewildered. I guess he thinks that’s enough cuddling.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Did I do something wrong?”
He takes on a sheepish look, and I could almost swear his cheeks are pinking up. “No, no, you did quite well. But I’ve got to get home. I hope you got something out of this.”
“I did. I feel very confident, Sir. Thank you again, Sir.” It’s very sad. I thought maybe I’d get to know him a little better tonight. I mean, the guy just fucked me in the ass, for god’s sake. But he’s not going to open up to me at all. I almost think I hear him sigh as he’s getting dressed. When he’s ready to go, he turns back to me. I’m still on the bed, naked and waiting. I don’t know if it’s okay for me to get dressed or not.
“Sub, before you go, I want you to pleasure yourself. Then you may get dressed and leave.” He doesn’t even smile.
“Thank you, Sir,” is all I can manage.
To my surprise, he crosses the room and puts his fingers under my chin, lifting my face up to look at him. “You did quite well tonight, Trish. You’re going to make a good sub for some lucky Dom someday, I can tell.” With that, he turns and strides out of the room.
I slip my hand down between my legs and start to stroke my over-sensitized nub. It only takes me a few minutes to come, his face in my memory, and then I’m ready to leave. As I dress, I see something on the floor.
It’s a business card – Clint’s business card. He must’ve dropped it. The face of the card is a deep green, almost black, and in gold letters are the words, “Clinton Alexander Winstead, Corporate Training and Efficiency Consultant. Reasonable Hourly Rates. Specializing in the Small Business Community.” So that’s what he does for a living – he’s a consultant. I realize the only place I have to keep the card is in my bra, so that’s where it goes for the time being.
When I get back to the bar, Clint’s nowhere in sight, but Dave’s back. “What in the hell did you do to him in there?” he asks me, an weird look in his eyes.
I scrunch my face up and raise one eyebrow. “What do you mean?” To my knowledge, I didn’t do a damn thing to him.
“Something happened. He was almost running when he came back out here and barely spoke, just went rushing out the door.”
I shrug. “I didn’t do anything, I don’t
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