I close and lock the door. “Or, we can stay here.”
“Here? Are you,” Max stammers, “sure?”
“As long as we’re quiet, no one will know.” I unbutton my sweater and let it float to the floor. “You can be quiet, right Max?”
Max stands up, tosses the cape aside and tugs off his sweatshirt. “Consider me a mouse,” he whispers.
We undress and the scent of the room changes: sultry skin, arousal and lust so thick it clings to the air like fog. I breathe it in, filling my throat and lungs with this olfactory decadence. Now nude, Max strokes his heavy cock while he watches me finish. A low growl rumbles from his chest when my skirt puddles around my ankles.
“Please, please, please leave those on.”
He means my black fishnet stockings – the ones I’m wearing without panties underneath. “You approve?” I ask, stepping towards him.
“Let me show you how much.”
Strong arms lift, I wrap my legs around his waist and we kiss. Our lips have never met before, but his are familiar against mine, maybe only because I’ve lived this moment in my head. Intense heat – our mouths turn frantic – we’ve been starving and will devour this banquet whole.
Max lowers me into the barber chair. “I’m going to eat you up, starting with your toes.” He straddles the footrest and tugs my right foot towards his mouth, I giggle before he makes contact. “Ticklish, Lizzy?” He rubs his bearded chin against the sole of my foot and I howl. “Shhh!”
I bend my left leg and place it on an armrest, allowing him full view of my fishnet coated cunt. “Wouldn’t you rather start higher?”
“I would rather tease you until you’re bent to break.” He licks my toes through the stockings, and I fall in love with the decadent sensation.
“This little one is the size of your clit,” he says with a smile, tapping my pinky toe. “Watch what happens when I suck it.”
I bite into a knuckle, the pleasure travels up my leg, causing my clit to throb. “Max, fuck me.”
“I’m a long way from fucking you, Lizzy.” His beard leaves a trail of abraded skin behind. I’m so wet, my stockings are soaked. Max buries his face between my legs and inhales. “This right here is the reason I stopped shaving. Mmm, baby, I’ll smell you on my face for days.”
Licking, licking, licking, I grab my knees and open as wide as possible. His beard tickles my mound while his tongue thrills and I clench around an orgasm so sweet, I almost sing. “Max, I want your cock.”
“Not yet. Indulge me a little longer.” He stands and holds my ankles together. I watch his beautiful dick peek in and out between my feet as his strong hips thrust. The erotic visual sends my fingers between my legs. “Oh, god, yes, touch yourself,” he says.
“Max, I want your cock!” My whisper is harsh and pleading.
On the edge himself, Max gives in. I tell him about the zippered pouch tucked inside my purse where I keep condoms and packets of lube. “I love that you’re prepared, Liz, love that you want sex and aren’t afraid, just, fuck, I respect you, I fucking respect you.”
Refusing to struggle out of my soaked stockings, I use a tiny scissor to start a hole. Max tears the hole wider, exposing me from waist to tailbone. I scooch down until my ass is level with the edge of the chair. “Now, Max.”
“Baby,” he moans, plunging deep.
This. This primal dance – the sounds, the friction, the exuberant, mad passion – I succumb to my baser urges willingly. Clawing at Max’s strong back, I bite his collarbone to stifle my cries.
And we fuck.
Pin me, baby:
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