Miss Personality: Final Chapter

Diane recrossed her toned legs for the tenth time under the glass table at the upscale bistro then wrapped a foot around the back of her calf to caress the lean muscle with the painted toenails peeking out her Givenchy stiletto. The distinct sound of her silky flesh, slithering back and forth, rang in every man’s head within earshot of the teenaged girl in her slinky cocktail dress. One man, unfortunately seated nearby, was pleading with his wife to not submarine the evening after she noticed him repeatedly glancing underneath Diane’s table. It was not the young girl’s intention to be provocative; she had simply never worn a cocktail dress before. When she purchased the garment at Nordstrom a week prior, she loved the way it fell so perfectly on her fit, youthful figure, dropping a few inches above her shapely knees. However, she had not accounted for the ensemble retreating up her thighs when seated. The hem was no longer alluringly floating mid-thigh, but encroaching on the lacy but minimalistic black thong that was the only other thing the girl was wearing. The tight-fitting dress formed a passable shelf for Diane’s massive but perky breasts. She had attempted to find a suitable backless bra but the only options she could find possessed neither the structural integrity to be useful nor achieved the intended aesthetic.

Marcus, her boyfriend, seated across from the lovely Diane, had also noticed her sensual fidgeting.

“Are you nervous… or still thinking about earlier today?” Marcus asked discretely.

Before going to the restaurant, Diane had met the man who was her biological father for the first time in her life. Up until a week ago, she had no idea that Tom, the man who raised her was, in fact, a stand-in. Tom had rushed to propose to Diane’s mother, fully knowing she was carrying another man’s child.

“No… I have to cross my legs in a very particular way when I sit or those people behind you will be able to see… everything…,” she whispered, giggling.

“No… really?” Marcus whispered back, astonished.

Diane smiled mischievously and began slowly uncrossing her legs while gesturing with her eyes for Marcus to glance.

Marcus’ height, which was usually a tremendous asset, thwarted his view. Readjusting his chair for a moment, he stooped, lowering his head only a few inches, and looking directly through the glass table. Without obstruction, he saw the lacy patch of black material that was the only thing between his eyes and Diane’s pouting womanhood. Instinctively, Marcus turned around and, unfortunately, made awkward eye contact with several patrons and a waiter who were also straining to view inside of Diane’s dress.

“See!” Diane exclaimed, quickly closing her legs.

“I saw… everyone saw!” Marcus whispered back.

“Yeah, they are all shamelessly looking!” Diane complained.

Then a wicked idea crossed her mind.

“I’m going to the ladies… I’ll be right back,” Diane grinned, then held the edges of her dress while rising out of her seat. Marcus, along with all of the other male eyes, including many of the females, watched her parade to the loo.

Without his beautiful companion, Marcus busied himself buttering a third piece of bread and consuming it between sips of water. Unlike Diane, this was his first time experiencing fine dining. Marcus certainly did not grow up impoverished. He hailed from a very respectable, small town where his blue-collar parents both worked and built a perfectly fine life for him and his two brothers. Vacations were car rides to the beach, and, on rare occasions, restaurants were small local affairs or middle of the rung chains where the young man would feast on burgers or a thrifty cut of meat not prepared by his mother.

Embodying his blue collar roots, a strong work ethic was instilled in Marcus at an early age along with an allergy to unfinished tasks.

“You can play youth football, but you’re going to finish the season… there is no quitting midway, understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” he would dutifully reply.

Marcus had been born with immense potential and he squandered none of it. Despite being a standout three sport athlete in high school, he also managed to make the national honor society, and keep his nose clean. Too many of his buddies on the football and basketball team fell short of their aptitude by having too much of their energy focused on meaningless high school popularity or slugging down bargain brand alcohol in the woods while playing Casanova to young girls who were impressed with cans of Natural Light and the thrill of living only for one’s youth with no interest in any of the possible tomorrows they could have been shaping.

Upon graduation day, Marcus, unlike the majority of his teammates, was called up on stage for numerous accolades. Many of the young men he was leaving in his dust had plans to join the Marines or get a job for a year before taking a run at community college. A handful, like Marcus, were going on to play division three football, but Marcus was the only one who would be doing so at a prestigious private university that was known the world over.

“You’ve got one shot at this, son… take it all in… enjoy every minute of it… but you finish what you started because if you come back here without that diploma, you’ll be working for the town or something else that you’re too good to spend your time doing and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” his father coached as he stood in his cap and gown, holding his trophy for ‘best male athlete’ and wearing his stole and cord from the national honor society.

His first few weeks at college were a dream that he still expected to wake up from at any moment. The summer before college he worked construction to save up money but still managed to be in the gym, every weekday, pounding the irons. He had a man’s body ever since he was fifteen and able to bench two-twenty-five and mix it up with the juniors and seniors when coach put him in the scrimmage on his very first day of junior varsity as a sophomore.

“Your son was one of the most coachable young men I’ve ever had the pleasure to suit up for the squad!” his coach complimented his parents on graduation day. “I wish I had a whole team of guys like Marcus… we’d win division every year!”

Marcus had arrived on campus weeks before the rest of the students as the football team ran double sessions in preparation for their first game against Oberlin which took place the very first week of classes. Those few weeks were the hardest of his life as Marcus was under the impression that he would be an instant star and was quite shocked to discover every other guy on his team was a former captain, a former all-star, and a step too slow or an inch too short to be playing for a division one team on national television.

“Dad… forget being a starter… I don’t know if I can hang with some of these guys on the practice field!” he had told his father after the first day where an upperclassman put Marcus on his backside, something that never happened even once in high school.

“Son… I love you… you knew this was a step up… so you’ve got to step up your game as well… you gotta try harder… be tougher… I’d bet on you with everything I have and, before it’s all said and done, you’re gonna make your mark on that team. Remember, I’m so proud of you!” his father reassured.

So, Marcus did exactly that. He tried harder, he fought with everything he had, and, at the first game, he wasn’t a starter, but he was asked to dress for varsity and found himself playing on all special teams.

“You keep it, and you’ll see yourself on that field come gameday more and more, Marcus!” the head coach told him after the Oberlin game.

Walking back to the quad where his family was camped out with the other parents after the game, Marcus walked on air having made a few plays and received compliments from the coach. But the biggest reason for his smile was Diane. On the very first day the other students were in the dorms he was hanging in his doorway and seeing who his new neighbors were when the towel-clad stunner breezed past him. After weeks of smashing heads with men who were older and stronger than he, Marcus simply lacked fear and refused to let the most beautiful woman he had ever seen remain unknown to him.

His initial attempts at flirting were a mixture of arrogance and inappropriate sexual innuendos. Within a minute of the conversation, Diane had felt compelled to end the exchange and leave him with nothing to show for his efforts except the metallic sting of failure.

“She thinks you’re such a jerk!” he cursed under his breath then sat in his room mulling over his mistakes. “Just go over to her room and tell her you like her! Say that you want to take her on a date… God that sounds stupid!” he cursed with the door closed. “You’re letting the opportunity slip away… she laughed as some of your jokes… go be a man… go do something!”

After giving his ego a pep talk, Marcus did, indeed, humbly tell the girl, through her wooden dorm room door, that he very much wanted the opportunity to see her again. Then, to his utter surprise, she opened the door still wearing her towel and yanked the surprised young man inside where the towel was removed.

During the entire event where he fingered Diane and she gave him such an astonishingly pleasurable blowjob where he felt as if the girl was sucking his soul out through his penis, Marcus focused intensely on not embarrassing himself as he was woefully unprepared for the sexual encounter. While in high school, Marcus had struggled with dating despite being one of the most desired boys in his class. Every day he was posed with the possibility of parties and escapades with young schoolmates who had confided that he was their secret crush and they had decided he would take their virginity, if Marcus were to grace the party happening at a teammates home with his presence. He only went on a few occasions but regretted it terribly afterwards.

After playing in a high school football game, Marcus had asked his father to drop him in front of the home where the party was taking place.

“You’ve got films tomorrow with the team at ten am and you said you’ve got a bunch of homework… so use your head tonight!” his father advised.

The adults who owned the home were of the sort that foolishly believed if they provided alcohol to their teenaged son, it would be, somehow, safer than the child imbibing in the woods or another home. As soon as Marcus entered the scene, he was offered beer, shots of vodka, and the opportunity to smoke marijuana. Sitting on the couch, holding a car of warm beer that was purchased an hour ago and never made it to a refrigerator, Marcus listened to his intoxicated teammates bragging inaccurately about what had happened on the field of play while the young ladies practiced gamesmanship in their pursuit of the rare and beautiful attendee who was finally on the menu. All the while, in Marcus’ head, he heard the voice of both his father and his coaches, over and over, saying the same phrase.

“You’re blowing it!” they barked.

Having only been on the couch for twenty minutes, not even finishing his warm beer, Marcus decided to jog the six miles home despite his limbs feeling heavy from intense exertion only a few hours earlier.

“Back so quickly? How the heck did you get home? And why are you covered in sweat?” his father asked.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do… I don’t have time to get drunk,” Marcus confessed.

“Son, I’m proud of you for making an adult decision… but you are a young man and you do have every right to cut loose once in a while… gotta enjoy your time too… you’ll be old and married with no time and no energy before you can blink your eyes,” his father told him, kindly.

Now that same young man, barely a year older, having asked his father for the money to take Diane on a very expensive, celebratory date, nervously consumed every piece of free bread on the table and asked the waiter for more while Diane was in the ladies room. The basket of steaming bread arrived just as Diane was returning. Diligently, Marcus stood up, walked to her side of the table and thoughtfully helped his date by adjusting her chair as she sat. Smiling, Diane reached for Marcus hand and pulled him close to her.

“Such a gentleman!” she complimented while holding his hand.

Marcus felt as though she was trying to pass him something made of material when she took his hand. Instinctively he grasped it and kept his hand tightly closed while returning to his seat. Diane was staring at him from across the table; her eyes piercing and bold. Marcus placed his hands into his lap and opened them to find, resting in the palm of his sweaty hand, was the black thong Diane had been wearing. Marcus had seen Diane naked dozens of times. He had kissed every square inch of her body, especially the tiny patch of flesh that had, up until moments ago, been covered by the racy handful of material that was currently acting more like a sponge, absorbing the river of sweat that was pouring out of his enormous hands. Marcus was speechless. Diane sipped her water like nothing had happened then returned to her constant reshuffling of her crossed legs, except this time it was an intentional display of rubbing her knees together to entice her man. Every other gentleman at the restaurant was, on some level, watching the girl’s legs navigate from the dominant position back to the submissive, over and over, but Marcus was now the only one who knew the tiny burlesque show, if not executed precisely, would put the young lady’s most delicate bits on display for the entire crowd.

“Are we ready to select our entrees?” the waiter asked.

To Marcus, it seemed as though the man appeared out of nowhere as his mind was completely awash in the distraction. Quickly, he stuffed the panties into his pocket and scooped up the menu. The words on the leatherbound carte de jour was unintelligible to the man and he could not summon his focus to read them.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I just received an important message and, regretfully, we must leave,” Marcus finally blurted.

“Is everything alright, sir?” the man asked, taken aback by the sudden turn by the man who had just eyeballed the menu as if he intended to order.

“Quite alright… is there a charge?” Marcus replied quickly.

“Normally, if nothing else is ordered, we do charge for the bread… of which you consumed several baskets… but please attend to your urgent matter,” the waiter somberly answered, completely letting Marcus off the hook.

“Shall we, my dear?” Marcus stated to Diane as he rose and offered her his hand.

“Yes, I believe so,” she replied with one hand holding Marcus by his weighty palm and the fingertips of her other, busy stretching the hem of her dress downward.

Marcus had booked a room in the hotel where the restaurant was located and as soon as Diane was balanced on her stilettos, Marcus placed a twenty-dollar bill onto the table and guided his girlfriend towards the bank of elevators just outside the restaurant that led to the guest rooms. The couple rode the elevator up in eager silence for several floors until Diane gasped.

“The elevator is glass!” she panicked, realizing that should a guest train their eyes carefully, they would be treated to a view of Diane’s freshly waxed vulva. Placing her left Givenchy heel tightly on the far side of its pair, Diane remedied her situation until the dire moment where she would need to take a step, but, thankfully, the room was on such a high level that binoculars would have been needed to capture the view during the millisecond it was exposed.

Holding onto the crook of Marcus’ arm, Diane marched along, taking twice as many steps as her towering man until they reached the door whose number corresponded to the one printed with impeccable penmanship on the paper sleeve in which the room keycard was handed to Marcus. Diane waited while her boyfriend touched the card to the black plate above the door handle, which resulted in the flashing of an angry red dot.

“Doesn’t work… I think we need to go back to the lobby and get a new card,” Marcus surmised.

“Ugh! No!” Diane wailed, dreading a second ride in the limpid conveyance.

“I’m just messing with ya!” Marcus chuckled and touched a different card to the handle, causing it to flash bright green and a metallic clink was heard as the locking mechanism deactivated itself.

“What! How?” Diane begged, feeling both relieved and elated at the rush of adrenaline from Marcus’ clever and well executed ruse.

“There were two cards in the sleeve… I took one out to look at it and accidentally put it in the pocket with my phone… I’ve made that mistake a bunch of times when we travel for away games and stay at hotels… except then I’m usually rooming with one of the upperclassmen on the football team and not…,” he smiled while gesturing towards his girl as if presenting her on stage.

“Ugh!” Diane breathed, completely enthralled he had gotten the better of her at that moment. The clever hoax somehow made her even more excited to get into the room. She was so pleased he had ended dinner immediately after her own little trick. Diane didn’t want to eat a full meal and then have lethargic sex. She was primed and ready right now.

Closing the door behind him, Marcus went immediately for the mini-fridge and pulled out a can of soda and two tiny, single serving bottles of whiskey. Even though the can was exceedingly cold, Marcus would have liked a few ice cubes but thought it ridiculous to leave his beautiful girl for even a single moment for something as trivial as ice in his glass. Walking to the bar he grabbed the two crystal tumblers perched next to the bottle opener and corresponding wine glasses.

“Don’t use those!” Diane spoke up. “They never wash them… get the plastic cups from the bathroom… they’ll be wrapped and new.”

“Oh, I didn’t know!” Marcus replied then fetched the plastic cups.

After unsealing the packaging, he filled them halfway each with soda then poured in the tiny bottles.

“To my brilliant, brave, and beautiful girlfriend; I love you AND I’m IN love with you… I can never get enough of you! From the first time I saw you… when you dropped your towel… to three minutes ago when you dropped your panties into my hand… I’ve been hooked!” toasted Marcus.

“Ohhh! I love you!” Diane swooned.

They drank from their plastic cups and then Marcus leaned to kiss Diane. Pushing him back, Diane placed her cup on the desk then found the tiny zipper just below her armpit on the dress.

ZZZZRRRRRTTT!

The zipper opened smoother than sharply honed scissors gliding through a sheet of wrapping paper. Holding both the uppermost portion of the garment as well as the bit of the zipper, for no other reason than to draw out her man’s anticipation a few moments longer, Diane watched for the urgency in Marcus’ eyes and beheld their keen hunger. That same hunger burned in Diane’s eyes, looking fixedly at her man in his slick attire. Unable to stand on ceremony any longer, Diane’s fingers released their hold and the dress fell to the carpet leaving her naked, save the strappy heels and nail polish.

Her eighteen-year-old body was worthy of being duplicated in Parian marble to be gawked at for centuries. Youth and beauty coupled with an elite training regimen had stripped her body of any flaw that could be associated with the decadence of overindulgence or idleness. Powerful, lean muscles quivered under her unblemished skin from her calves, through her thighs, into her hips and abdominals. The gap between her thighs was so prominent that, while standing, the entirety of the wondrous pouting fold that was her outer labia could be seen, completely unrestricted by crowding bulges that might have been found on less svelte girls. Indeed, her pussy lips were ripely embossed protrusions of delicate femineity that begged to be parted in order to delight in the archetype of earthly treasures. Marcus’ eyes wandered up her exceptionally defined abdominals to her voluminous yet rigid breasts that drew in the eye without conscious choice as if they were a door to the bright outside world that was suddenly opened, illuminating all those in her presence whom, before seeing her, only knew darkness. Lastly, he gazed into her face; porcelain soft features of bounteous lips and eyes that stirred the soul with their dazzling, unique allure. Diane’s beauty was irrefutable, yet Marcus was even more in love with her soul. To Marcus, it was almost as if Diane had not been born a stunning beauty, and she had to suffer as the mere mortals do every day. She was kind and thoughtful in the way a beautiful person seldom acts, as immaculately attractive people quickly learn that their looks are a currency that’s not contingent on good behavior. At that moment, Marcus swore on his own soul, and everything in the world that meant a damn to him, that he would never be the one to shatter Diane’s angelic soul. He made that solemn promise in only the way a young, ambitious man, who had also never been sullied by a cruel or careless lover, could do.

“Did I lose you for a moment?” Diane begged, seeing that upon her reveal, Marcus thoughts had traveled the cosmos while drinking in a moment that would be forever frozen in time. A moment he already knew that he would travel back to in order to chase the tail of the dragon, his darling drug, Diane.

“Never,” he whispered.

“Then make love to me. I can’t wait a moment longer,” Diane breathed.

Marcus’ fingers snapped over and over, unclasping the buttons on his shirt, and didn’t stop until he cut an open trail that ended at the zipper of his slacks. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt with the Brioni button-down so when he pulled apart the fabric, Diane was treated to the unveiling of his packed-muscle chest and its Jackson Pollock of purple and yellow bruising from doing battle on the field Diane encircled, like a hunting falcon, during the long training sessions where she cut her own marvelous physique.

Tossing the Italian silk onto a nearby chair, Marcus reached to drop his trousers when Diane, patience completely exhausted, leapt into his arms. He caught the small girl, spun her in air, and kissed her as he landed the girl squarely on her back with her legs firmly wrapped around his torse.

As they hungrily devoured each other’s faces, Diane reached her fingertips to the tight-fitting boxer-briefs that separated her from being with Marcus unencumbered. After a handful of swipes, Marcus lent a hand and quickly removed them while stepping out of his shoes. Diane settled onto her back and felt the tip of her man’s engorged cock dancing on her wet lips.

“ARRRRRR!” she groaned, desperate to squeeze him inside of her.

“Wait… I want to taste you first,” Marcus pleaded.

Not needing any encouragement, Diane pushed off her man’s chest, guided him onto the bed to lay on his back, then, straddling his face, Diane angled her soaked pussy to be well within the range of his tongue while she gripped his shaft and enveloped the bulge of Marcus’ testicles into her mouth to pull at them while imagining their contents all over her face.

With a sharp tongue, Marcus pressed into Diane’s jutted clitoris and swirled the bud before dancing back and forth, then slowed, mimicking the way his woman would edge herself, cultivating her orgasm until she could no longer hold off. Giving the provoked button a rest, Marcus slid his tongue along Diane’s dripping labia, dipping inside in a penetrating manner with his arrowlike appendage into the shallows of her vaginal canal to her immense delight. Still pressing forward, Marcus’ tongue bumped into Diane’s perineum before leaping out of her stirred vagina and landed smack dab onto her puckered asshole.

“MMMM!” Diane muffled in a shocked soprano with both of Marcus’ testicles in her stretched mouth.

Diane’s tiny round sphincter flexed and shuddered when confronted with the same licking technique she had taught Marcus to use on her sensitive clitoris. At first, Diane wanted the rough tip of her man’s tongue out of her asshole and back on her buzzing clitoris. Then she paused, breathing through her nose as her mouth was crammed full preventing the passage of air. It wasn’t the same intensely pleasurable march toward an orgasm that was clitoral stimulation. The feeling more resembled the wonderful enjoyment she received when Marcus would tenderly suckle on her sensitive nipples; never something she could climax from but still, wonderful and wanted. Careful to work her teeth around her man’s delicate testicles, Diane pulled the entirety of Marcus’ scrotum out of her mouth.

“Ohhhhh! That is just… Ohhhh!” Diane moaned.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/nqrub0/miss_personality_final_chapter