I did not enjoy this high-end party too much, my friend’s apartment was filled with posh people in all their fanciest attire, talking about tax returns and the latest political scandals. At some point avoiding people at a voluntary social event becomes dreadfully ironic.
Then I saw her, standing out from the crowd, seemingly also seeking to avoid depressingly boring conversations, though that was far from the most noticeable aspect of this individual.
She wore a matt black dress that highlighted and complimented every voluptuous curve amazingly, the perfect Monroe hourglass shape. I felt a sudden intense need to come closer and further enthrall myself in this rare purity of aesthetic jaw-dropping eye candy. Luckily for me she had just disentangled herself from pack of drooling bucks. As I came closer I noticed her fiery auburn hair, the extremely provocative fish-net stockings, but most of all, the visual magnet that was her perfectly exposed cleavage. Perfect pale shapes moved and manipulated wonderfully by gravity, being loosely held by her black dress.
She noticed me staring, and then the gaze hit. Pale blue eyes piercing my soul and reading my every thought and intention. I was taken aback, and she smiled mischievously. I took it for a green light and approached her, opening with the most cliché ice-breaker I could think of. It made her laugh, ever so briefly. That was enough it seemed. We exchanged a few reflexive formalities, but she was quite brief to the point and never seemed to say more than she had to. As I valiantly attempted to keep the conversation going, she sudden declared she was bored and asked me to follow her. Nothing could have made me do otherwise.
She went into a bathroom, and I hesitated for a second, but followed. ‘Lock the door’ she said, and I did. There was more than one toilet in the apartment, but someone nonetheless would certainly have observed this move, especially with all that eye candy leading the way. She leaned back on the sink, stretching out her arms sideways, casually taking on a pose indicating observation, and the gaze that looked at me then was of an entirely different nature. Where she earlier only had a playful smile, what replaced it now was a lusty grin staring in total lewd confidence. ‘Take of your clothes’ she said calmly. I felt blood rush southwards, strongly compelling me to obey, and slowly started to take of my tuxedo as she stared. When it all came off and my faithful limb sported a worthwhile erection straight at her, she had but kept staring. The only thing that changed was a slight widening of her grin as I revealed the shaft. It was nothing overly impressive, but the obvious eagerness seemed to be to her liking.
She kept staring
‘Aren’t you going to?’ I asked quietly, clumsily and hesitantly, at this point, not sure where this was going. She kept staring, but slightly shook her head sideways. I sensed a certain slowly creeping sensation of shame, as I realized she was only playing with me. Way out of my league, of course she wouldn’t fuck me in a bathroom. Suddenly she walked up to me and pushed me against the wall, at an arms-length away she then stood, but kept staring into my eyes. Then she slowly and gently started touching my penis, slowly rolling back the foreskin, gently caressing the glans. My breathing and heartbeat intensified further as arousal crept through me, I could but look back and take in her every beauty, my stare struggling to alternate between her gaze, her cleavage and her hand caressing me. Suddenly she grabbed it full in hand and jerked me quickly and violently, I could not stop a loud moan from escaping me. Then she briefly slowed down and raised a finger to her mouth, indicating with a stern look that I had to be quiet. She had of course done that on purpose, knowing how I would react. But it was the nature of this situation that aroused me the lost, the complete control she exerted over my shameless surrendered sexuality. Involuntary moans suppressed, involuntary spasms and tensions in my body being dictated by stimulation of her hand.
The mental surge of arousal was so intense that it did not take more than half a minute of stroking before I realized that I was about to climax. She sensed this of course, seeing the look on my face and the movements of my hips. Gingerly she stepped aside, stroked a few final intense notes, and let go at the last second.
I fought and struggled trying to suppress my moans and groans, but it was impossible at that point. As the surge of intense muscular tensions pressurized the sperm through, the pleasure of it was suddenly mixed in with the unpleasant discomforting pain of the abrupt stop. I wanted to finish stroking it, but she had deftly grabbed both my hands behind my back and prevented any such notion. There was no stopping the orgasm itself however, once it reached that peak it all came rushing forth, and in a few violent gouts of white it splattered the bathroom tiles in a neat coincidental pattern.
I was in shock and awe at the masterpiece of a sexual experience. She let go of my arms and briefly kissed my cheek, before she rushed out the door, leaving me there alone, naked and in sudden despair. The whole situation had lasted but a brief few minutes, of both heavenly stimulation and shameful degradation. She had of course left the door open. The people wanting to use the bathroom were of course somewhat surprised to find me there, staring at the artwork on the floor and my dripping penis.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rnjs1t/the_power_of_lewd_confidence