Send to a Friend

"I like fucking strangers." She leaned in and whispered it to me. Her moist lips felt like a lick of fire against my ear.

Shit, I had to laugh. Two sheets to the wind, I had just slithered away from the table where a really nice lady sat - one I had been dating for over a dozen months who was trying to dump me because of my "my wandering eye and my other wandering body parts." I told her from the very beginning that I was in no position to offer her more than a casual dating arrangement. My confession: that I was emotionally insufferable and unfit for a relationship. But, I was great company! I couldn't be any more honest about my condition. But, for some women, for some strange reason, that kind of confession signals "opportunity" and "challenge." Not the "no-thank-you" one would expect. Instead of backing off or accepting me as the mixed bag of damaged goods that I am, nice lady decides to go in hard: stuffing me with fancy gourmet dinners; plying me with moderately priced champagne; Belgian chocolates; purple calla lilies; forced intellectual convo; sophisticated sex toys (really, who needs them?); ridiculously skanky-hot lingerie; and, the sex. Yes, I will say it. Nice lady is a lady in streets and freak-ass-hoe in the sheets. Yes, a really nice piece of ass. Only problem - that ass was not enough to move me beyond the dating phase. So, in my mind, she had every right to dump me. But, instead, we're at Per Se, one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. And she's staring at me from across the table, still hoping that, after a year, she could change my mind.

But, I had to stand my ground. The wheels had fallen off. We were in a fixed state. It would go no further. I'm explaining this to her for like the millionth time, and she's still not getting it. So, I order the second bottle of wine, just to piss her off. She didn't want the night to end, and I was tired of being the bad guy. Why couldn't smart, good women realize that they could do better when stuck in a less than great situation? All my excuses and explanations were slurred, useless for the anti-climatic chatter we were locked in. I was a real mess, but lucid enough to notice a young, hot chocolate, pretty thing of a girl sitting perpendicular to our table, eyeing me with distracted amusement. Delicately, she fingered everything she touched, while exaggerating the motion of running her hot pink tongue along her thick, juicy lips. Every now and then, I would allow my eyes to wander in her direction. She would always be right there to catch me, her entire body in constant motion. She couldn't keep still. Her date? Some middle-aged man with a ringed finger on his left hand, who probably had no business with her. He couldn't take his eyes off her either.

The restaurant was thinning out. Nice lady was reticent, asking for the check before feverishly texting on her blackberry. I excused myself for the restroom. As usual, the ladies room was occupied. Seconds later, the "fucking strangers," remark brushed up against my neck and seeped into my ears. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to, because I could feel her still moving around like she seriously needed to be pinned down.

"You know, that can be dangerous." I said over my shoulder. "Fucking strangers."

"Dangerous for you or for me?" Very pretty girl purred back, slowly moving in front of me. Taking me by the hand, she backed herself into the Men's room. I follow her inside the bathroom. I lock the door, turn off the lights.

"Why?" she whispered, referring to the lights.

"Sssh," I answered pressing my index finger against her lips. Going in to taste them, I felt her petite hands caress either side of my head. Pushing me downwards toward her waist, her mini-skirt was pushed up against her bare hips, she guided me right in the direction of her other set of big, juicy lips. I was a goner. I dove in like I had no sense. If she had a weakness for strangers; I had a weakness for PUSSY. Just licking and tasting her sweet, soft folds of pussy splendor all moist and smooth was just reward. Allowing myself to bury my mouth, lips, tongue into what was, coincidentally, some good pussy forced my drunken tongue to come alive. And, she knew her pussy was good, because she never moved her hands from my head, short of pulling me deeper into her, forcing me harder against her. When she started to gyrate, grinding herself against my face, my mouth, fucking my face, her clit sliding around my lips, I felt the knot between my own thighs tighten, liquefying. Taking her right between my lips, letting it rest directly on my tongue, I sucked it gently first before running my tongue around her entire clit. Seriously, I thought she was trying to climb inside my mouth. There was no way her moan didn't crack the sound barrier, stretching out into the main room of the restaurant.

Seconds later, the abrupt knocking startled us. I wasn't finished. And, I was pissed. I have a weakness for pussy, but I don't like sex with strangers. And, there was some fool banging on the door, and I had to figure out what the fuck to do about it. Very pretty girl was giggling. She was laughing like she straight up wanted us to get busted. I gently pushed her away from me, standing up, straightening my intoxicated self up. It had to be my nice lady friend at the door. Finally, she was ready to give me the final boot for sure for being such a natural born fuck-up.

"Uhm, I'm sorry. I'll be out in a minute." I said through the door.

"Miss, this is the men's room," a man with a thick foreign accent grumbled from the other side.

"I know. I'm not feeling well and the ladies room was occupied so..."

"We close in ten minutes."

We listened to him walk away from the door. I switched on the lights. Very pretty girl stood there leaning against the wall, smiling at me, fingers just playing in herself, stroking herself, looking deliciously guilty. Before I knew it, she walked right up to me, attempting to drag my jeans off my ass.

"Wait a minute. You heard the man. They're about to close."

Well, very pretty girl, shoves her honey-dipped fingers into my mouth, moving them in and out a few times until I got a real good second taste of her. Then, she shuts off the lights, attempts again to pull down my jeans, but, this time, I let her. And she forces her mouth on me, sucking me off hungrily as if she was sucking off a dick, lips banging against my labia, tonguing, sucking my clit and vagina with near perfect precision - which for some reason got me off fast. It was one of those unexpected, quick, heavy cums that fall on top of you. Crushing you. It made me break out into this fierce sweat. My knees got real weak (was it the wine?). I felt dizzy (again, was it the wine?). It took me a moment to catch my breath. Barely getting my pants up, the banging on the door started, again. The lights were still off, and I heard her moving around in the darkness. But, when the door swung open, a flash of light streamed in and very pretty girl rushed out. Just like that. The restaurant worker outside said something to her. When he entered the bathroom I hurried passed him going back to my table. Very Pretty girl and her date were casually leaving the restaurant. My nice lady friend was nowhere to be seen. But the check, a $360 check, sat at our table, unpaid. The maitre de stared at me with the meanest, evil eye you can imagine, while I finished the contents of nice lady's wine glass. I told myself, after that experience, if fucking strangers' costs that much, I would prefer fucking a dysfunctional acquaintance.

Write a Comment

You must be logged in to post feedback. Login | Register.