((In keeping with the regular uploads. ))
You must have known, the way you looked when you came in. If you didn’t consciously think it, some part of you must have registered you were the most amazing, most enticing woman in the entire room. When you walked down those steps, you must have seen how you were as close to the divine as any of us would ever be able to get.
You looked like you were out for a great night, and who was I not to oblige. I must not have been your first choice, or your second, but when we found each other dancing, laughing at ridiculous Travolta impressions and bad music, having a drink in a secluded spot, talking the knight away, we were stuck together. The liberation of talking to you, of losing myself in the conversation until you and I exist was heaven. I could have done this until the sun came up and continued until the night after. I could have, if it hadn’t been for you. Your mouth. Your face. Your tantalizing legs and your titillating outfit. Every time you shifted, I could see further up your dress, ever piece of flesh temporarily derailing my train of thought.
You had to have known you were doing it. I felt so weak there, like prey to be toyed with. I’d never had the urge to kiss somebody so urgently, that desire to touch like a fever, my skin burning. But the urge to continue the conversation was greater. I could have talked, and listened, the entire night, if it hadn’t been for you. When you got up, for a second, my gut tied itself into a knot. Had I said something wrong? Had I pushed you away? Or were you simply bored with me. I was already convincing myself that the evening had not been a waste, that I’d spent it in total enjoyment with a stranger who’d refused to tell me her name, when you, walking out, turned with a sly smile and asked me to come along.
You must have known the effect you had on me. I was practically on a leash. There wasn’t a time or a place when I would have said no. As I went for my coat, every fibre of my being was in conflict. Part of me told me I should be in control. Why? I argued. A need for control in all things is a sign of weakness, I thought. Another part of me said that this woman was scary and unpredictable. I had no response to this. I knew very well that she was just that. I was loving every second of it. We had found each other on the same level, intellectually, but she was a different breed altogether. She intimidated me.
As I followed her down the street, trying to keep my cool by walking a leisurely pace, I had a little time to appreciate her glorious behind as she walked. This time did not last long, as her annoyance with my walking speed cost me a glance that still burns me. I caught up with her, and she hooked her arm in mine. It wasn’t far, and we talked on the way. I asked her if I could call her anything. A name. She told me to call her L. She told me she was going to call me F. I nodded, found it best not to argue. I could have, but I feared her reprieve, wanted, for some reason, for her to respect me. I found myself looking up to her, wanting to be more like her, wanting to impress her.
As we arrived at her place, I looked at her face in the moonlight. No matter what it looked like, in that instant it was perfect. Now, understand that I was not falling in love with you. My attraction to you had just reached such a level that I would have done anything you’d asked me to. As the corner of your mouth lifted, I realized you must have seen me in the corner of your eye. You must have known.
When we walked inside and you discarded your coat in a crumpled heap, walked into the bedroom without even looking back, you must have known you had total control over me. I waited in that living room, hooking my jacket over a chair, general embarrassment and discomfort setting in as I found myself in another’s house. I heard you call from the bedroom, and I almost ran inside. You must have known what it would do to me when I found you there wearing stockings and garters, silk gloves and a light perfume. You must have known. You must have wanted me to ravish you like I did.
As I stormed over, tore two buttons off my shirt trying to get it off and kissed you like I’d never kissed anyone before, I thrust my tongue into your mouth to savour you fully, lifting you in my arms and slamming you against the wall. We’d started. Not one more word was said as we wrapped around one another. I threw you onto the bed, and I was only a beast, only lust. You laid down on your stomach and looked at me. I knew I was lost, I knew I had to take you, had to fuck you, had to ravish and enjoy and fuck every single one of your holes.
You must have known. You knew, surely, that when you spread your legs I’d bury my face in it like I did, slip my tongue into your pussy as I grabbed your ass, that I’d spank you and that every moan from your lips, every drop from your cunt would be mean another, that I’d grab your cheeks and lick and kiss your asshole.
You moaned, you cursed, and not once did you insult me. I knew then, as I climbed over you, barely resisting, holding myself off, stopping myself from ramming my cock into your ass, that I’d need you. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But sometimes, I’d need you. To talk to you. To fuck you. I gave in, placed my cock at the entrance to your pussy, and pushed, slid in. You moaned and squirmed and asked me for more, asked me to fuck you. I was very happy to oblige. I bit your neck, inciting another moan, as I slammed my cock deep inside you. Pulled back your hair as you felt me exit you almost completely, before sliding in. A devilish rhythm was setting in, where I’d pull out until you begged me to fuck you, then slam in so deep you walked that knife’s edge between pain and pure pleasure, grabbed the sheets, moaned, yelled, until you came around my cock, twitching, squeezing. I congratulated myself on not coming then and there, the onslaught almost too much, and repositioned myself slightly, the head of my cock now at your asshole.
I heard you gasp, I could almost hear you think, consider taking this slower, but your decision came as quickly as mine when you pushed your ass back and I slipped inside your asshole.
You must have known how you felt. You must have or your moans of ecstasy would not have been peppered with laughs and giggles whenever I moaned into your ear. You pushed back, slid my cock balls-deep into your asshole and kept pushing until you were on all fours, and rode my cock. I groaned, grunted, grabbed your hips and slowly fucked you. You clenched and relaxed. You must have known what your stifled moans would do to me. You must have realized it would only turn me on more, make me harder, make us both enjoy things more as I grew even more aroused, stretched you to what had to be your limit.
As you gasped, moaned, I grabbed your hips and pushed as deep into you as I possibly could, grabbed your hair and pulled myself to your ear as my breath caresses your neck. My cock fills you completely as whisper to you, I can not recall what I said, words of passion, asking if you wanted it, liked it. You almost screamed in admission, begged me to fuck you, fill you. I came, emptying myself inside you.
As I slipped out and collapsed next to you, you were anything but sated, swallowing my cock whole even as a drop of my cum ran out of your asshole, down your leg. Even as you were getting me hard again, I reached over, and slid a finger into both your holes, well lubricated now, and we both moaned.
You must have known that the next morning, I’d look at you, look at your body, watch you breathe. We talked that entire morning, about the night before and the ones that were coming. We talked about books and favourite pets and terrible tastes in movies. As I left, she told me to call her Lover. She’d call me Friend. We were both.
You must have known.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/26ydqu/one_in_a_million_mf