[FM] The Christmas Party

I won’t pretend I wasn’t thinking of Mark as I got ready for the party. I put on my make up and ironed my hair in the mirror, wondering if he would be there. Would he bring along a date to torture me? My heart raced the whole time. I wore a cherry red button up silk blouse, a fitted black Halogen skirt with silk stockings (nude color), my (faux) pearl necklace, gold bangles, and my favorite red (faux) Louboutin ‘fuck-me’ heels. And I wore black lace tangas and a matching bra. Just in case.

I arrived in my uber at around 9pm, shortly after dinner had already ended— I wasn’t hungry. I checked my coat and quickly found a small group of my female office-mates chatting at a table, all of whom were older than 40 (and some way older than that!) They hugged and kissed me when I arrived, gushing about my outfit, my earrings, my shoes. In that crowd, I stood out like a sore thumb. I scanned the party but couldn’t find Mark, so I decided to relax and enjoy myself in spite of my disappointment. Would it be a long night? I ordered a glass of Malbec, then another, and enjoyed what I could of the conversations above the din of loud club music.

Later, when the party was really in full swing, I finally spotted Mark—or, to be more precise, he spotted me. We briefly made eye contact across the crowded all, and I offered just a hint of a smile as I uncrossed and then recrossed my legs, all for his benefit. He didn’t take his eyes off me, so I turned away, coy, pretending to listen to another conversation. I felt so confident, and so sexy, and so in control—feelings I rarely ever felt around Mark.

By that point, the club was filled with other partiers, many of whom were not from our company. I spent most of my time at our table, or along the illuminated bar, or somewhere in transit in between. The music was great and I felt so happy to be out, slightly tipsy from the wine, and free. I kept tabs on Mark, who circled me like a shark, never approaching too close but always within reach. He appeared so calm, so sure of himself: he wore a pair of designer jeans, a cream open-collared shirt that cast a glimpse at his strong, bare chest, a tailored charcoal blazer bulging over his muscles, and enormous black leather wingtips. His fancy watch gleamed in the neon light. He looked young, wealthy, and sexy.

Mark watched from a distance as men flirted with me, buying me drinks I didn’t even touch while arranging schemes that I ignored. We played that game for a long time, as long as we could manage, teasing one another from afar. It was exhilarating— and I knew he understood what was happening. We were orbiting each other, twin stars in the darkness, preparing to collide. So when we finally made prolonged eye contact, and he approached me along a straight, direct path, I could only smile brightly as I gazed up at him.

“Hi Cindy,” he said, leaning in.

I could barely speak. I was suddenly so nervous, yet somehow I managed to stand perfectly still, balancing erect in my heels, arms at my sides, projecting what I hoped was calm, aloof assuredness. But my eyes must have betrayed everything unfolding in my mind,

“Hello sir,” I smiled. He ordered a drink from the bar absently, never taking his eyes off me.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “You weren’t at dinner earlier.”

I could barely hear him over the booming speakers, so I leaned in closer, inhaling that same wonderful cologne that had enchanted me so many months ago in his office. I wondered if he liked the way my hair smelled. I ran my finger along the circumference of my wine glass, still so coy but nearly trembling.

“I wasn’t sure if you would ever gonna to talk to me again,” I offered behind a forced smile that was difficult to conjure.

But he smiled better. “Of course I do!”

The crowd surged around us, jostling for position at the bar, and I gravitated toward Mark’s body in what felt like a natural arc, into his protective space. He towered over me, with only the whisky in his hand and the thin fabric of our clothing separating us. I could feel his eyes all over me, absorbing me. I wanted him. Then he leaned in even closer—his fresh, summery scent made me tingle– shouting a whisper into my ear—“are you here alone?”

He broke away, and I just smiled, nodding, hardly containing my bursting excitement. When he smiled back again, I bit my lip. And that was it.

“Let’s go,” he instructed me, and all I could do was obey.

Mark led me across the dancefloor with his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward through the thick crowd and toward the staircase to coat check, and then street level. In an instant, we were out in the cool night air, abruptly alone absent the crowd. My heels clicked on the asphalt and echoed like a beacon across the otherwise deserted parking lot. All of a sudden, everything seemed so real, and so urgent. But I tried not to think and just followed. Mark led me to his Audi and opened the passenger door for me, holding my hand to steady me as I lowered myself in. But he could hardly steady me at all—I was nearly bursting. When we touched, it was electric.

Mark raced home, the music blaring, the car filled with nervous energy and pounding hormones. I looked at him as he watched the road, his thick overcoat protecting his body from my gaze. I wanted his eyes on my legs, I wanted to tease him with a glimpse of my stocking tops, or maybe even more, but he never looked at me while he drove. He barely spoke. He was focused on his task, racing toward the inevitable, and my heart raced along with him.

We finally reached his building and we swerved into the underground parking garage and immediately found his reserved space. Mark killed the engine and engaged the hand break, then he finally looked to me.

“We’re here” he said, coarsely, dry. Everything seemed so quiet all of a sudden, and I wondered if I should say anything, but I couldn’t. We walked to the elevator, my heels again clicking loud alerting me to how utterly alone I was with this man, as though announcing my vulnerability with each step. I held myself and walked, and Mark offered me his arm just then. So I curled my body into him and we walked together, and I felt stronger. I was with him, and there was no going back.

In the elevator, it was awkward. We stood across from one another, watching each other’s eyes as if waiting to see who would make the first move. There seemed as though there was something hesitant in both of us, but when the doors finally opened we stepped out into the hallway and walked arm-in-arm toward his apartment, as though being together in that space was the most natural thing in the world. I felt relieved, and at home. I felt ready for anything.

Mark unlocked the door and we were inside, and before the door latched behind us he had me in his arms, pulling me close. We kissed roughly, desperately, consumed by passion. My hands explored his chest, and our coats fell to the floor in a heap all around us as we leaned into one another. I had dreamed of that moment for so long—to finally kiss him, to be far from that silly office and instead hidden away in a private space where we could be with one another fully and openly. I unfurled myself to him, and he swept me off my feet, pinning me to the door and deepening his kiss as I wrapped my legs around his back, heels dangling precariously from my stockinged toes. Our kiss was slow, and rhythmic, our tongues rolling against each other, setting a steady, urgent beat that would be our tempo. Mark touched my breasts and I moaned into his mouth. He yanked my blouse over my head and dropped it to the floor, burying his face in my cleavage, biting my flesh, my pearls twisting in in his teeth, and I scrambled to unbutton his shirt while I still could.

Then Mark turned and slammed me into the wall next to his kitchen, driving his hand violently up my skirt as it bunched up around my hips. I whimpered my approval. He was frantic, on fire, out of control. I pulled him to me, hanging on for dear life, fumbling for his belt as he tore my panties to the side. I couldn’t believe it was happening so fast. But we kissed again and our rhythm suddenly changed—slowing, calming, deepening. I sucked his tongue and reached between his legs, grasping his thick cock through his slacks, heavy. Our eyes met again and I broke our kiss, sighing into his mouth: “Fuck me.”

Mark cradled me in his strong arms and carried me away, my heels kicking with delight. He took me down the hallway toward the living room, where he perched me on the edge of his brown suede couch. We kissed again, even more slowly and softly than before, as though we had found a better rhythm to explore. As we kissed, I reached back and unhooked my bra, allowing it to tumble to the cushions, and I unclasped my pearls and draped them carefully over the side of the couch. Mark leaned into me and feasted on my body. He sucked hard on my breasts and I licked my lips for him, feeling his big hard dick throbbing against my knee, the static of my stocking shooting sparks through my body. I ran my nails over his scalp while he tasted my body, the stubble driving me wild.

Then he turned me around and leaned me over the back of the couch, kneeling behind me as he hiked my tight skirt up over my hips. His hands ran up the sides of my thighs, hooking his fingers into my stocking tops and teasing me, his stubble grazing the smooth exposed skin above. He sucked hard on the tender flesh of my inner thigh, marking me with a deep bruise I’d only notice much later. I sighed as he slipped my panties down my legs, my pussy dripping wet with anticipation of what he would do to me. Then I gasped as he buried his face in my ass and ate me out like a wild man.

I gripped the back of the couch and moaned as my mind soared. He rolled his tongue deep inside me, his hands splitting my cheeks apart. I was on my tip toes, half out of my heels, and I felt myself dripping all over his mouth as he sucked my pussy hard. I trembled, and then exploded into a sudden and unexpected orgasm. I screamed his name. I reached back to embrace him, to grip his scalp in my palm, to show him how much I loved this, but couldn’t reach; I just collapsed into the couch in submission, bent at the waist while Mark ate my pussy from behind like I dreamed he would.

When he finished, he rose to his feet and stood behind me cupping my breasts in his palms. I turned back to him and we kissed again. I sampled myself on his mouth and I wondered if he loved how I taste. I thought I tasted sweet. I opened my mouth as we kissed, and I smiled. He laughed.

“I’ve wanted you for so long” he growled into my ear.

“Me too, so much” I gushed. I was still trembling from my quick orgasm. And I was ready for another.

He pushed his hips into me, grinding against my ass. “Do you feel this?” he asked, and boy did I ever! His cock felt enormous against me, throbbing, hot, even more dangerous. Yes I was ready. I wanted to show him.

“Yes sir,” I replied.

“Do you want it?’

“Yes sir, please,” I whimpered.

So Mark released my breasts, gave the nape of my neck a quick kiss, and then walked around to the front of the couch and sat down. He was completely naked, of course, and his beautiful cock bounced in the air, as if it was blindly fumbling for me. I followed him, peeling my skirt off my body and letting it fall to the floor, now naked myself except for my nude stockings and heels. My breasts were firm and engorged, my nipples erect. I kneeled before him, placing a pillow on the floor to cushion me. I wrapped my hands around the base of his cock and my heart leaped as he throbbed in my grip. I was so happy to have him in my hands.

I licked his shaft and he groaned. I sucked him slowly, bobbing my head to a silent rhythm, focused on his pleasure. I loved his heft, his size. I ran my nails over the thick ridge along the base of his cock, then licked down his shaft and sucked his balls one by one into my mouth. I gazed up at him in wonder. I wanted so badly to please him.

When I released his cock from my mouth, I wrapped my breasts around his thick shaft and cradled him there in that warm pocket of flesh, squeezing and massaging him while I looked up at him in wonder. He groaned in agony. I smiled at him, pursing my lips, in charge.

“I love your big dick,” I cooed, smiling, giving the head of his cock another quick lick.

He grunted, losing control, so I winked and swallowed as much of his shaft as I could, then bobbed on his length some more. As I was blowing him, I reached between my legs and felt my dripping pussy. I ran my fingers over my waxed mound, parting my lips and inserting my middle finger as deep as I could—a test. I was soaked, and I thought I was ready. I smacked my clit and felt myself gushing. I wanted so badly to sit on that big, beautiful dick and feel him stretching me out. I needed him.

I sucked harder on the head, tossing my hair back and gazing up at Mark in eager anticipation. And when he met my gaze, I could see he was ready for more. I popped him out of my mouth, abrupt and unexpected, a trail of saliva connecting the tip to my lips.

“Ahhhh” he moaned in his deep tone.

I smiled up at him again, stroking him slowly, giving his big dick a final lick before I stood and climbed into his lap, balancing myself against his broad shoulders while he positioned himself beneath me. I kissed his lips and he sucked my tongue into my mouth, my breasts jiggling as I settled into his body. I felt the tip of his penis as it found my opening, sharp and hard like a tusk and ready to impale me.

Mark held me by the hips as I lowered myself down onto him. My soaked pussy took the first two inches or so easily enough, with the rest of me dripping down his shaft. But my tightness was still a barrier for us. So I rolled my hips in little circles, allowing myself to open up to him even more, and very carefully I starting to ride him.

I was in heaven. I had for so long imagined what it would be like to have sex with Mark, but I couldn’t have imagined that feeling. I felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so expanded, so full of him. It took my breath away. I bounced softly in his lap, taking as much of him as I could. His shaft was coated in my juices— I was creaming all over him, his thick cock churning me, my body eager to accept him. I wanted all of it. I wanted to know.

As I rode him, Mark sucked on my breasts and held my hips in his firm grip. I felt myself adjusting to his size, learning his cock, adapting to him, receiving him. I cried out and increased my pace, my orgasm building and my movements intensifying. Every so often, I lowered even further down on his thick stalk, reaching even deeper inside me than I ever thought was possible. I came hard, shuddering, pressing my body to him, my breasts flat against his chest, my skin exploding in goosebumps. I sobbed against his shoulder as his cock throbbed deep inside me. I felt like I was crashing into a jagged shore.

“Oh Mark…” I whimpered.

When I felt him stiffening up inside me, I cried out again, alarmed, and our eyes met and I saw the desperate loss that was about to happen. “Oh Mark, oh Mark” I moaned, riding him hard, feeling him impale me as he expanded inside my snug, rippling pussy.

“Fuck Cindy I’m gonna cum” he roared, and when I gazed into his eyes I could tell he didn’t want to cum yet. He wanted this to last. But I wanted something more.

I hopped off his spasming cock and slipping between his legs, opening my mouth just in time to catch an enormous volley of cum that exploded across my face. I eagerly lapped it up, licking his shaft and sucking his head, getting as much of his essence into my body as I could manage. I hummed as I sucked him dry, his cock twitching and pulsing in my little fists. I was pleased and proud of my performance. My juices continued to flow from my pussy, coating my inner thighs as I drained him, swallowing it all. I felt like a goddess.

Finally sated, I released him from my grip and smiled, my face covered in thick ropes of his sperm. I licked my fingers and cleaned myself as he watched in astonishment. “You taste so good, sir” I coaxed him, knowing we were far from done.

I cleaned his cock with my mouth, all the while playing with my pussy between my legs. He never completely softened—I wouldn’t allow it. I kept him on edge, teasing his urethra with the tip of my tongue, massaging his balls with my free hand while I smacked my pussy with the other. I kept myself hot while I kept him as hard as I could. Mark sat back in relaxed triumph, obviously quite pleased with the results.

When he was ready, he stood and led me by the hand to his bedroom at the other end of the hall. I padded along the tiled floor in my stockinged feet, my heels left behind with the rest of my clothing. Mark’s cock stood at half mast, pointing the way. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

He tossed me on his king-sized bed, creasing his otherwise perfectly crisp comforter with my trembling body. As he bore down on me, I spread my legs wide for him, on instinct. I hoped I wouldn’t soak through to the mattress. I hoped he knew how wet I could get. Mark gripped my thighs and ate me out aggressively, my legs pinwheeling as his tongue rolled through my depths, tasting all of me. I moaned my approval, gasping, my finger nails digging into the thick stubble of his shorn scalp, his thin beard scratching my inner thighs. He clamped down on my clit as another orgasm washed over me.

When Mark finished eating me, I was panting and eager for more. He slapped my clit with his palm and I exploded into another sudden orgasm, gushing across his mouth, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. But I was silent as I crashed through it—I couldn’t breathe, my mouth wide. It was only after what seemed to be an eternity that the air came rushing back, and I screamed. My body quaked in submission to Mark and his power over me.

He emerged from between my legs, his chin soaked in my juices, smiling sly and ready to take more of me. I reached for him frantically, drawing him into my embrace, desperate to have him inside me again.

“Fuck me again,” I whimpered, “oh please just fuck me, please…”

I wrapped my legs around his hips and he sank right into me all the way. I gasped, my mouth on his shoulder, my nails digging into his back. I couldn’t believe he was all the way inside me. At first, I was silent, shocked. He began pumping me slowly, his hips rolling into me, my body locked in his rhythm. He fucked me with a steady rhythm and I began to moan softly with each and every thrust, lost to the moment. He pushed off and we kissed wet and sloppy, our tongues licking each other’s lips and carrying us forward. It was perfection.

Mark gradually picked up the pace of our love making until, finally, he was pounding away at my spasming little pussy, my juices sluicing all around him. I can’t remember if I came several times, or if it was just one long, continuous, breathtaking orgasm. It doesn’t matter. We were matched perfectly, our sex in perfect unison. I closed my eyes and kissed his bruised shoulder, where I had bitten deep into him earlier, and I tasted a faint trace of his blood. I sucked him gently to sooth the wound.

“Cindy your pussy feels so good” he moaned into my ear. “You’re so tight…”

I sighed.

Before long, he had my legs cradled over his arms as he fucked me long, deep, slow strokes. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I felt like I might pass out, or even die. I didn’t care. My body trembled all over when it wasn’t absolutely paralyzed.

I don’t remember the sequence of events after that, so I won’t pretend that I can. All these specific memories are enmeshed with one another now, out of sequence, non-linear, broken. I remember he had me on all fours, pulling my arms back by the wrists and suspending me aloft like bridge, my back arched impossibly toward him as he hammered away with abandon. I remember he had my legs together, slipped over one of his right shoulder, my stockings ripping against the stubble of his cheek while he pounded me. I remember he had me on my stomach, perched over me, smothering me with his body as he went deeper than my body could handle. I bucked under him, but he was too strong for me. So I just went limp.

But what I remember best was the end. We were again in missionary position, my legs wrapped around his back once more, stockings shredded and my body bruised and sore. His head was buried in the pillow to the left of my face, and he fucked me violently, stabbing into my swollen, open pussy without any thought for my pleasure. I held on for dear life. And I whispered breathlessly into his ear, licking his earlobe softly, coaxing it out of him, begging him to cum inside me, to give everything to me, to empty his essence deep within me. I wanted to feel it.

And he gave it to me. Oh God. I didn’t know.

I sobbed in abject pleasure as his body stiffened in my embrace, his spasming cock buried to the hilt within me, my pussy rippling around him as he unleashed what I had for so long dreamed about. I felt him blasting his cum deep into my fertile womb, unprotected, ripe, vulnerable. My body accepted all of him and my mind was silent– I just sobbed and gasped. I felt in love. I wanted it all.

When we finally finished with me, we held each other for a long time, drunk in our moment.

When I awoke, it was morning, and thin beams of sunlight pierced the sheared fabric of his heavy drapes and alerted me to a new day. I was lying nude in his bed, under heavy covers, curled around his large, muscular body. I was so sore, and my pussy ached like crazy. My thighs felt as they did after a long, intense work out. My muscles felt atrophied. I padded over to the ensuite bathroom to pee—and inspect the damage. In the morning mirror, all the glamour of the evening was long gone—my eyes were black with mascara, my neck and shoulders covered in little bruises, a deep bruise around my elbow, and throbbing all over. I tried to clean up, quietly, before returning to bed.

Mark slept silently on his back, and I crawled in under his arm and curled around me, keeping me close. The contrast between our skin was beautiful—his so pale and white, covered in coarse brown hair, mine caramel colored and so incredibly smooth. I kissed his shoulder, then reached for his semi-erect penis, my champion. I slipped from his sleepy grasp and slid my body down Mark’s torso so I could take him in my mouth again.

I sucked him softly, careful not to wake him, wiping away the thick crust of my dried fluids that coated his pubic hair, tasting my tart juices all along his length. He hardened quickly to my touch. When I looked up at him, we had already awoken, so I climbed onto him and we made love again. This time, it was slow, tired, sore, and careful, but never tentative or unsure. My pussy accepted him all the way inside me without any resistance whatsoever. He had transformed me, adapted me to him—and so quickly too. I felt like I belonged to him.

We kissed as he took over, guiding me onto my back so he could mount me once again. We made love for an hour, always slow, always intense, and completely in unison. I told him things I never told anyone. He listened, and acknowledged, and fucked me deep and heavy. When he came deep inside me again, I cried again. I loved it.

When he pulled out of me, I felt empty, used up, and somehow alone. We lay in bed for a while longer, lost in one another’s touch, soft kisses and soft talk. But as time wore on, I felt less like a lover and more like a guest. It was time to go.

I retrieved my clothing from the living room and dressed silently while he remained in bed. He asked me to leave my panties behind, which I found odd, but of course I obeyed. I tossed them to him, and he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply, smiling distantly. I had to toss my stockings in the trash—they were nothing more than a shredded mass of sheer beige fabric.

I called an uber, kissed Mark on the lips, thanked him for a wonderful evening, and showed myself out. I wonder if he’ll text me.

Thanks for reading!

Cindy

xoxo

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/aa031j/fm_the_christmas_party