The one night stand

The ONS

She went to her closet and picked out a tight-fitting sundress with a sweet heart neckline and a red and black floral print. She first put on a matte black push up bra. She forwent the underwear. She held up the dress one more time for internal debate, then thought it was better not to overanalyze, unzipped the side zipper, raised her arms over her head and pulled the dress on. Her long straw-blonde hair was momentarily contained inside the neckhole, she quickly set it free, wiggled the dress over her now exaggerated chest and paused to take in the feeling of the thin fabric fluttering against her thighs as the dress came to rest at their some mid-way point.
She turned her attention the mirror, black mascara, powder, and pale pink lip gloss were applied. She glanced at her feet. Shoes. How she loathed them. A pair of mid-height nude heals were chosen. They elongated her legs and highighted the outline of her calf muscles, the tone was so similar to her skin they allowed the line from leg to foot to flow seamlessly.
She grabbed her keys, purse and phone and walked out the door in a brisk yet unhurried pace. She was already 22 minutes late. Oh well, she knew he’d wait much longer and didn’t bother herself to text an excuse, for they both already knew, without ever having met in person, there was none.
She started her car and turned on the FM. Her finger rarely left the scan button.
“I tell you this, no eternal reward will forgive us now, for wasting the dawn…..” Perfect. She turned the volume dial sharply to the right, and lost herself in thought as lyrics floated past her ears and into the background. Coming out of herself she caught “The blonde one was called Freedom, the dark one, Enterprise. We talked…..” …then she went back in herself until she pulled up upon the neon glow of the restaurant. She found a spot and jumped out with little hesitation or pesky notions of reservation.
She opened the door and was met with soft lighting and muffled conversation. She wondered if any one else was there with her intentions. Probably not. This was a nice place. The kind of place where soccer moms frequented with their “girlfriends” for cocktails as they left their children with teen aged babysitters for the evening. She cringed at the thought. But would anyone look at her and guess? No, of course not. She liked that. She knew she did not look like what she was. In fact, she liked it just a little too much.
Within seconds she caught his gaze. She recognized him instantly. He looked like an asshole, he was one. She knew it, he knew it. His dark hair was cut relatively close, but long enough to get messed. His eyes were dark brown and captivating, they were locked on her, what they lacked in affection they made up for in unbridled longing. Prior to her even having had her seat across from him, he wanted the check. He was starved, and his hunger rose up from deep inside him like an all-encompassing internal fire. Maybe it wasn’t true, but at that moment at least, he felt as though he had never wanted anything so bad in his life.
She navigated through the crowds and tables to his own. She flashed a brief but genuine smile, also lacking in warmth but not in fire. As she sat, with her right hand she smoothed her dress against her ass and thighs so it would lay between her bareness and the seat, and pulled the hand free once sitting to shake his. The first touch. The pull was instant, it was cosmic. It was not love, it was lust. It was not chemistry, it was carnal. Behind their eyes, their minds were reveling in fantasy, in the not too distant future. She analyzed the bulge in his fitted jeans as he stood to greet her, his blazer hung just over it, drawing attention to it. She imagined pulling his belt loose from all its loops, unzipping him, opening him up like a gift that was temporarily all for her.
They ordered. What, mattered not. As she cut into the contents on her plate, took bites and drank, he imagined himself under the table, gently parting her warm, soft, pale thighs, kneeling close to her, feeling her anticipation. He wanted to devour her right then and there, he could not, he had to at least engage in the formality of dinner and drinks, thus he quickly devoured his meal instead. She only ate half of hers, and one and a half glasses of wine. She asked for a box. He thought it was cute, then thought of it more. Shortly he’d be fucking her brains out, she’d want it just as badly as he, then later, she’d get hungry again as result, and shed eat the food she’d ordered earlier. She’d then go to bed and be satisfied, in every way, and suffer from it no shame and no regret. He liked the thought of it, and he liked her.
They talked, about what, also matters not. Every time it was her turn to talk he subconsciously bit his lower lip and shifted in his seat, its all he could do to occupy a mind and body that was lit with the flames of lust. Fanned by the desire she invoked in him with every word, every time she moved her hair from her eyes, every time those eyes locked into his. He watched the glass rise from the table, slowly, passed her chest that rose and fell with her breath, as it met her parted lips that waited for the wines wetness to seep past them and down her throat. He wanted to be that wine.
He paid the bill. He asked her why she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to pick her up. She smiled and explained the restaurant was closer to her and she didn’t want him to have to backtrack. This was bullshit. He knew she didn’t care about his time or gas or convenience. He knew why. And it wasn’t for the same reason as other women. Other women would want the option to go home on their own accord, directly after dinner, theyd deny themselves any possibility of a good time, because thats what good girls did. Not her. Remember, she did not look as she was. She drove separately so she could leave his place as soon as she was satisfied, so she could leave the threshold of his door just as callously as she had walked through it. She wouldn’t dream of the intimacy of spending the night. The night was for her. To fall asleep alone with her thoughts. He didn’t care, he was glad for it, even.
He texted her his address for “coffee”. They got up and pulled in their chairs. She took her box. He smiled. He wanted to make her hungry again. He walked her to her car. She put the box on her hood as she opened the door. She put it on the seat and went to close the door. He held out his hand, to stop the door from closing. She stared at him for a second, he stared back. He couldnt part from her right then. Not without a taste, not for another minute. He leaned in and grabbed her face in his hand. He kissed her violently and passionately. She did not resist. He pulled himself on top of her and into her car. He slammed the door and reclined the seat. The parking lot was busy. They didnt care. Their bodies writhed together in rhythm. She felt him push against her, becoming harder and harder. He sank his hands into the softness of her thighs, eased up, and ran them higher and higher. He quickly realized there was nothing blocking his path. He wasnt surprised. He could feel the warmth hit his fingers before they reached their destination. Soon they were enveloped inside her, hot and wet. Again, maybe he was wrong, but, at that moment, he could not recall anyone as wet as she was for him. He could have came right then, at that thought, for that feeling. He took them out and shoved them in her mouth, which was only slightly less wet and hot. She liked the taste of herself. Second only to how much she loved the taste of men. Oh God, how she loved men. Their was nothing in this world that could make her feel the way a man did. She tried, she tried with this and she tried with that. She could orgasm over and over. She was good at getting herself off. But nothing came close to the real thing. It was her favorite thing. She liked how they morphed into menacing sizes, she liked how they were solid, but had just enough give to glide comfortably into her mouth, she like when they came. She loved when they came. Came in her, on her, anywhere.
She sucked her taste off his fingers, intensely and greedily, as if it was aged honey. She then pushed him off and and jumped in the back seat and motioned him. He sat with is knees to the seat, as did she. They looked at eachother and kissed again violently, as if it may be their last. She pulled away again and unhooked his belt and slid it out of the loops like she had imagained just an hour before. He was dying a little death in anticipation. She pulled his pants down to his knees and pulled him out. She was happy with what she had uncovered. It was a thick, pulsating, 7 inches. She immediately put it in her mouth, not wasting another second. His eyes rolled back in his head as she took him in deeper and deeper. He heard footsteps and voices outside the vehicle. He didn’t care, and he knew that not only did she not care, she relished in it. After a shortwhile she took him out of her mouth and shoved him down onto the seat. She kissed him madly, as only a slightly mad woman can. As they kissed she simultaneously positioned herself over him. He was sticking straight up, wet from her mouth, throbbing and aching for her to sit on him. She did. He thrust into her with all his strength, grabbing onto her hip bones for leverage. She cried out. He plunged in and out of her, over and over. Each time surprised he managed to make it so long without coming. He knew it wouldn’t be long. He stopped. He breathlessly whispered to her, “Will you still come back with me? I don’t want this to be over, I can be ready again as soon as you meet me there.” It was a 15 minute drive, he knew he could be ready again. She responded “Is that a promise?’. He kissed her with more force than one would deem possible as he savagely pushed the boundaries of her body. Through her moans and cries she gasped a request- “Can you come on me, so it will run down me as I drive behind you?” He didn’t respond, he couldn’t. It almost wasnt possible, he didnt want to leave the inside of her. Though he did, just in time. He held himself above her and gently stroked himself until he came. It was, and again, maybe he was wrong, but he could have sworn, the biggest load of his life. It kept coming and her eyes shone and she smiled at it flew onto her abdomen.
He got off and got dressed. She pulled her dress down over his cum. He wouldn’t have needed the 15 minute drive. She climbed back into the front and he went to his own car and waited for her headlights to pull out and lead the way.
They arrived. He found the right key and jammed it in the lock and turned. She needed to use the restroom. He waited. How dare she make him wait any longer. In that moment, that night, he claimed all ownership of her, she existed for him. The fact that she knew exactly the way he thought and didn’t care, cleared what little conscious he had. He waited to hear the click of the opening door. “You didnt clean yourself up, did you?” He asked in a somewhat menacingly tone. She liked his tone. “Check for yourself” she replied. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to his bedroom. He pushed her down onto his large bed. She resisted just enough to make him work, to slightly enrage and excite him. He grabbed both her wrists between his thumb and index finger of his right hand and held them above her head. With his left hand he pulled up her cum stained sundress. It was all still there, though mostly dried and dripped down onto her legs. He gathered what was still in liquid form, and shoved it into her mouth. He gathered more and used it to finger her, he scooped up as much as he could, as many times as he could, and as he did, he couldn’t help but to be impressed with himself. It was one hell of a load. Her whole body ached and writhed under his touch. She was now free to be as loud as she wanted, so she was. She cried out in such a way that a passerby could not be sure if she was being slayed or satisfied. The combination of his come inside her and his fingers working rhythmically on her, was too much. Her body siezed and he felt the pulsating vibrations nearly entrap his fingers. He quickly withdrew, turned her over on her stomach, lifted up on her to create an arch with her body. He paused for just a second to admire the curve of her body. She just might have had the most fuckable hips hed ever seen. He grabbed onto them and slid into her, he slammed her back down forcefully as he thrust as deeply as he could, and as he did he felt a surge in wetness, which exploded all around him. He tried to think of other things, he didnt want it to end. He pulled out, wrapped her long blonde hair around his right hand and shoved himself into her mouth. She had no room to resist, she liked that feeling. He was kind enough to stoke himself at his base while thrusting into her, so she would not have to take all of him in and choke, or worse. After awhile he was ready to fuck her again and he knew she was more than ready. As soon as he unwrapped her hair from his hand, she said she had to use the rest room again. He allowed it but he again seethed with anger. He used the second bathroom while she used the first, he had to go anyway. Several minutes passed. She was taking too long. He didn’t wait for the click. He stormed the bathroom door and flew it open. She was leisurely drinking from the bathroom cup. As she sat it down he grabbed it, took a drink himself, then glared at her. She gave an unrepentant smile. He slammed the door shut and threw her up against the wall. He couldnt be sure, but as far as he knew, that was the hardest he had ever fucked anyone in his life. He felt her pulsate and throb. She liked it. She atoned for all the sins of all the bitches that came before her. He couldnt hold it in any longer, he pulled out, and guided her down onto her kness, almost (almost) lovingly, and put a towel under them so they wouldnt become scraped on the rough tile floor. He held her jaw in his palm and stroked himself until his cum was teased out. He aimed it onto her cheecks and lips, parted her lips with his thumb and eased the rest into her mouth. She felt it accumulate in her mouth. She swallowed and smiled. He got up and handed her a washcloth he had wetted. She took it and washed him off her face. He offered her a drink of water, she declined. He asked her if she wanted to use the shower, she declined and went to grab her keys, “I just want to go home and heat up my leftovers.” He smiled. She was exactly as he knew she’d be. Exactly how know one thought she was. He had a knack for finding those.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/52b8ar/the_one_night_stand