“There are moments when, whatever the position of the body, the soul is on its knees.” – Victor Hugo
Another Friday morning finds me and I wake up slowly, easing into in my usual routine. Rolling out of bed, I reach first for that much needed cup of coffee before padding upstairs to my desk. My work station. My life.
Working from home has its perks; I get to forfeit the daily commute through traffic, the obligation to look presentable, and the oh-so-many possible distractions. But the thing I relish most is getting to manage my own time. The flexibility of my days. Trust me, I take advantage of these benefits but let’s be honest – they aren’t really “perks” in the end, are they? That’s just a word used to pretty up those seemingly shiney incentives which ultimately turn you into a slave to your inbox with an obsessive need to always be working. The days melt into each other and yet the hours seem to stretch endlessly. You are doomed to forever be ‘on call’ and your eyes never recover from the tedium that is your computer screens glare. You forget how to socialize but most detrimental, the concept of self care begins to escape you. It’s been so long since I let loose or indulged myself and recently I’ve felt the familiar itch of an inevitable need that builds up around my edges.
I have been pounding away at the keyboard for hours like any other day when a text message dings. I don’t typically bother to look – my attention generally remains on the task at hand – but I sigh and pull my phone towards me. It is Friday after all, I think to myself, and who really wants to work on a Friday? I looked down to read the message. “Coffee and shoot?” I usually restrict my artistic modeling time to Sundays but the sun shining ever so brightly through my skylight warms my face and my mood, enticing me to say ‘yes’ to my often creative partner and photographer, Charlie. Looking at the time, I quickly write back before I can convince myself otherwise. “Ok, just a quicky. Meet you at our usual spot in an hour.”
Once in my closet, I linger. My finger graze the fabric of each item in search of The Perfect Thing. Settling on the best choice for the days adventure I pull out a short, long-sleeved wool dress in classic black. Charlie often chastises me for repeatedly choosing to show up in black and I know this number fits rather snuggly, but that just allows it to hug all the right curves – nothing else will do.
I slip it on my body and reach around to glide the zipper all the way up. The struggle, as the zipper refuses to ‘glide’, could be a good indication to stop but stubborn as I am I force it all the way up. I never admit defeat. I spin a couple of coquette poses while looking in my mirror and ignore the restricting tension I feel stretch across my breasts. Realizing the time, I shrug off the nagging thought in the back of my mind warning me that taking off the dress later would be no easy task, and head out.
A few hours later I am in my car ready to head back home and buckle down to work for the remainder of the day. The shoot had been a fun urban styled one that had gone off without a hitch. But now, no longer distracted and alone in my car, the seatbelt reminds me of the restrictive fabric of my dess and my breath catches with sudden panic. I begin to pant, breathless, and my vision is blurring as I find myself gasping for each gulp of air. My ribs heave up and down and I feel the sweat bead down my back as hysteria threatens to set in.
In a moment of desperation I pull over and park jaggedly in front of a random bar, paying no mind to the parking regulations warning violators would be towed. I run inside and look around frantically, making eye contact with a bartender. He stands tall, a young rugged looking guy with deep green eyes and the kind of face that manages to stop me in my frenzied tracks. That is the face of someone accustomed to the sudden pause in a person’s natural expression when they look his way, and the forced nonchalance that follows with an overcompensating attempt at a confident smile.
He looks back at me, surprised by the sudden intrusion, but doesn’t skip a beat in asking how he can help. Trying to maintain some semblance of composure, I weakly inquire if there might be a female colleague nearby? He smirks, shaking his head in answer and confirms he is the only one around. At this point I am feeling as though I might asphyxiate. My desperation forces me to give in and I let my jacket fall to the ground, turning to face away from him. I attempt to calmly explain my situation, in hopes that this man might take pity on me. I fail to express my needs and now am practically begging him to release me from this woolen straight-jacket. I hear him finally coming out from behind the bar, chuckling deep in his chest as he slowly makes his way behind me. When he reaches me, his fingers dance momentarily around the tops of my shoulders giving his scent of cigarettes and freshly washed hair a second to wash over me as he whispers “What’s in it for me?”
Despite my still tangible panic my breath catches as my head swims with the unexpected intoxication of the moment. The pit of my stomach becomes a mixture of nausea and electric butterflies and my heart pounds through the fabric of the dress as it continues to restrict me. The fight or flight reflex takes hold of me then, and I am scanning around the room for an exit… or a weapon… what did I get myself into!
Calm down, I scold myself. In the span of just a few seconds three separate thoughts cross my mind: 1) “Is. he. fucking. serious?” 2) “We’re in a public space! I can scream, he wouldn’t dare!” and 3) “…This is a very dire situation and, I mean, look at him.”
I feel a crackle shoot across my skin and the excitement deepens in my stomach. This guy in this bar in this moment is pawing at that itch, coaxing it out. I try to fight it but am starting to realize – maybe I don’t want to?
I hear my best friend’s voice in my head teasing “slut!” as I turn to face my – liberator? Captor? The jury is still out on that one, yet I ask as innocently as I can manage “What is it that you want?” Taking it as an invitation he takes another step closer and leans down so his face is just inches from mine. He lets his fingers dance along my chin and then they come to rest on my lips. His thumb parts them slightly, and my body ignites in fire. “I think you know.”
His handsome face has taken on a devilish grin making me pause. My eyes furtively scan the room as I dance uncertainly between running or staying to embrace his growing bulge. Taking advantage of my hesitation he wraps an arm firmly around my waist and pulls me closer, quickly closing the gap between us. “Don’t worry, no one comes in at this hour. Thank my lucky stars, such a pretty little girl walked in just when she did.”
He leans in and kisses me with such fervor that I can’t help but give in. Our lips are electric and I lift up on on my tippy toes hungrily. There is no sweetness in his kiss. It is starved, and dark, and it threatens to swallow me whole. His hand grazes up my back and he grabs my hair in a fist while his mouth moves to feast on my neck. Still trapped in my dress my chest is straining against the fabric, and I am gasping for air. My body’s response to his has startled me but the moistness forming between my thighs is undeniable. I weakly consider convincing him – and myself – to stop but am instead being lifted off the ground like a rag doll and set on a table. He forcibly parts my legs I feel the seams of my dress stretching to their limit. I can feel his erection hard against my thigh as he presses into me and his hand grabs mine directing it down, down, down to his crotch.
I fumble nervously undoing his belt but manage to uncover his throbbing penis releasing a moan from his lips. The wetness between my legs seems even more urgent and on cue, he responds by grabbing my nylons and ripping them at the crotch. “I like girls who don’t wear panties” he smirks appreciatively, and I feel my blush rising but his fingers are already eagerly probing my wet folds. To my great surprise, he has dropped to his knees and his tongue is inside me, sending shivers shooting through my body.
He finds my sweet spot almost instantly. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a man’s face between my legs, much less hit my clit so immediately. If I’m honest with myself, watching this stranger on his knees worshiping my dripping pussy is making me want to come all over his pretty face over and over again. I’m lost in a haze of pleasure, still struggling against the tight fabric that continues to restrict my breathing which only enhances the orgasm that is now washing over me in waves. I have his head in my hands and am forcing him ever deeper inside, relishing each pulseing moment. It has been so long since I’ve had such a groundbreaking orgasm and I keep my eyes closed, as I finish, coming for what seems like an eternity.
My body has barely stopped trembling but he’s dragging me easily off the table and twirling me around to bend me over like I am nothing more than a toy doll. His toy doll. The tip of his cock teases my outer lips for only a second as he kicks my feet apart. His massive hands are holding me down and parting my ass then he plunges inside me. I gasp with the first thrust – after not being fucked in way too many months, this is such a welcome surprise. My dry spell is broken and my tight little pussy is begging for more from the rhythm. With a fistful of my hair in one hand, his other locks my arm behind my back and he pulls until I think my neck might snap.
“You have such a pretty little pussy, I could fuck you all day long” he utters breathlessly. There is nothing spectacular about these words, but the way he says them in this unbelievable moment brings me to the edge a second tim. I hold back as long as I can, his thrusts continue unabated until, unable to withstand any more pounding, I let go and the orgasm courses through my body. I’m savoring the exhilaration of the moment as with a final stroke, I feel him pull out and come all over my ass.
After a moment, to my immense relief, I finally feel the zipper of my dress being tugged down. He again lifts me from the table and holds me up while I greedily gulp air into my lungs, filling them with relief. My vision wavers momentarily as everything slowly comes into focus and I realize I am grinning like an idiot in the aftermath of what just transpired. The handsome stranger picks my jacket up off the floor and places it over my shoulders as I enthusiastically spin around to face the man who has just fucked me senseless. He smiles and kissed my lips with a sharply contrasting gentleness that allows him to linger only long enough for me to taste myself.
“That was fun” he grins. I beam back, utterly exalted by this unexpected, liberating encounter and give a little smirk before turning to leave. I walk out to my car with my zipper finally released, and his come dripping down my legs.©
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