Fellatio Friday: Your Man

Your Man (Free erotica series)

 I stop in at The Grand, per my usual after work routine, for a quick drink with the ladies. All of them are in a frenzy over a very dashing business man, who would be better suited as model, underwear in particular. From the moment he walked in, they took to straightening their hair, checking their lip stick and whispering about how sexy he’d look without the suit.

I admit, I find myself just as taken but in my own awkward way. I feel no need to primp, as I find it hard enough peeking up to steal glances of him, while hoping I don’t get caught. I don’t want to look as foolish or as desperate as my friends do but mostly, I don’t want to embarrass myself. My fear is, he’ll see me and I’ll end up flashing an overly toothy smile or jumping in surprise and spilling my drink in my lap. I find it easier to attempt blending into the furniture, than to try to socialize in any flirtatious manner.

Dating and sex are topics I try to quickly change the subject on or avoid all together. However, when they arise and all else fails, I merely rattle off crap that I’ve seen on tv or online and throw in tidbits of things I’ve only dreamt up in my darkest fantasies. Those closest to me know that I have no more experience than a geeky middle-schooler but with everyone else I fake the conversation, pretending I know exactly what they’re talking about.

It’s not as if I’ve never had to sit and listen to the talk of sexually active woman but it’s come to be a topic I find irritating. After all, I am still a grown woman with the same urges – if not more. I crave to know the touch of a man, to feel his lips on mine and to feel the firm erection that belongs to another living being, instead of one cast in a rubber-like flesh, at some random factory.

Tonight, the combination of drinks and my growing arousal, as my mind dances with thoughts of him slowly undressing me, I find myself joining in the chatter. Over enthusiastically sharing my fantasies with the ladies – not usual of my character but I’m feeling strangely wild tonight. I want to be as carefree and fun as the ladies who surround me – they all have a powerful, sexual confidence that I long to feel.

As I whisper to a co-worker about how big his package must be, my ex-best friend, in her true lush nature, blurts out to the entire group and those surrounding us, that it wasn’t like I’d even know what to do with him, since I’m a virgin. You can hear a pin dropamong our little group as the word virgin hangs in the air, like a death cloud of social doom. I can feel the heat as it rises to my face, burning like hot embers of embarrassment and anger.

We both started working for the firm on the same day and rapidly became the best of friends. That is, until I received a promotion for the job she had hoped to get. Then she became a complete bitch and now, everything between us has become a competition, whether I like it or not. In our battle of corporate, ladder climbing, I’ve pulled way ahead and I know she can be cold but I never would imagine she could sink so low.

I can hear the word echoing through the other groups now, they steal quick glances and continue whispering. A secret I had managed to hide, all of my life, is now bouncing off the walls and the buzz of laughter is enough to make me queasy. I calmly gather my things, hoping I look far less affected than how I feel. I navigate the busy establishment and slip out of the door as unnoticed as one can be, when they’re the center of the latest gossip.

Once free of the judging eye and out of their hearing range, I let out a huffy progression of obscenities. Part of me is ready to curl up in a ball and cry, while the other part is ready to head back in and throat punch every laughing person in that place. I jump at the sudden presence of a hand on my arm, pulling me from my tantrum. I retract my arm and turn to give the person a good tongue lashing, until I realize it’s the handsomely dressed, business man.

He stands before me, silent, towering over me with his broad, athletically muscular frame. His smile is wide and his teeth glisten like freshly shined pearls. He reaches out, taking my hand in his and places a small black card in it, before turning it over and leaving a gentle kiss. Then he walks away, no words pass between us but my arousal is off the charts and I tuck the card away, too caught up in his ass as he disappears into the distance, to pay it any mind. I flag a cab down for home as he turns the corner.

Arriving home, I toss my keys on the hall table and press play on the answering machine. My action is met with the same beep and automated voice, that’s begun to feel as if it taunts me, with its daily “you have no messages” recording. I relieve a heavy sigh and slide my high-heels off, placing them in the same spot beneath the table. Never an inch off one way or another, as if my heels and the floor both contain attracting magnets.

I sulk into the kitchen, shoulders slumped and pour my wine with a lip pouting more than I care to admit – which I quickly draw back in as mama’s scolding voice invades my thoughts. “You keep pouting like that and a bugs sure to come by and shit on it.” In her true southern fashion. Mama’s voice often invades when I’m doing something I know she’d disapprove of. You know the routine, study hard; get good grades; don’t slouch; don’t pout; eat your veggies; no snacking and don’t forget to always be perfect.

I’ve lived the majority of my life by her rules, even after leaving home. Growing up, there was never anytime for playing, school events or friends and boy were of course, off-limits. For a short time I took fancy in wanting to date and find love but the more mama drove me to stay on course and succeed, the further I got from entertaining thoughts of the opposite sex. I worked hard, I graduated early and went on to do the same in college with all the highest of honors. From there I went straight into working for the firm and climbing the ranks of the corporate ladder which leaves little to no time for a social life. Not to mention, most the men are creeps or too busy themselves to have anything more than a fling which I have somehow marked myself too good to have. Though, I’m not so sure I feel the same way anymore.

I pour another glass of wine and riffle through my bag, retrieving the little black card. I run my finger over the golden, engraved letters. ‘Your Man. Day or night. Full service.’ With nothing more on it, than a number with instructions to text an address. I gulp down the last of my glass and promptly pour another, twirling the card between my fingers, curious as to what services he could offer. He couldn’t possible be a male escort, could he? What does one pay for that sort of thing anyways? Did I even care?

I bite my lip, debating before finally tossing the card in the trash bin and finishing off another glass of wine. I refill my glass and stand staring at the trash, half way through I snatch up the card and grab my phone from the counter. I type in the number and add my address to the text, then delete and repeat through another glass of wine before finally hitting send. Though It was more a drunken fumble than a decision but it’s sent and there is nothing I can do about that.

I wait for a reply, while I finish up my glass and then decide to skip pouring anymore. I grab the bottle and head for the couch, where I sink into the fluffy cushions, figuring the card must be a joke. I switch on the tv just as a movie is starting and can’t help but laugh when I recognize it as ‘Mean girls’. I feel like I’ve just gone through my own mean girl drama and tonight she won.

I take another long draw off the bottle, when I hear a knock at the door. I debate pretending I’m not home but figure it’s probably my neighbor, twice as drunk as I am and looking for her spare key – it is a common occurrence and the exact reason she asked me to hold  her spare, to begin with. I take a few deep breaths, attempting to gather myself before standing, mostly upright, again.

I sway down my hallway, giggling at my feet as they appear to be doing their own shuffle style, dance. Without thought, I skip using the peep-hole and fling the door open, still laughing over my feet, which I promptly stop doing when my eyes meet his. He’s still dressed in the same handsome suit and as my eyes drift over his frame I take notice of two large, black briefcases, one in each hand.

He nods his head with a sinful smile and slides past me, through the open door way. I silently follow as he walks the short hall and heads towards the sound of the tv. I’m in a state of shock, unsure if this is happening or if I’ve just passed out drunk on the couch and entered a very realistic dream. He sets the briefcases on the coffee table and hands me the almost empty bottle of wine which I swiftly swig down and set on a nearby desk.

He reaches out for me and I place my hand in his, allowing him to pull me in. His arms wrap tight around my waist and my heart races as we lock eyes. I’m filled with jitters as he leans in, bringing his soft, coconut flavored lips, to meet mine. Our lips fit together like puzzle pieces, as if we were meant to complete one another. His lips travel down my neck as his hands pass over my ass and he grips the back of my thighs, lifting me as easily as a five-pound bag of flour.

My legs wrap his waist and I can feel the firm bulge of his member as I grind my damp, silk covered pussy against him. My body feels electrically charged and every area that comes in contact with him is overtaken by a sensual, seductive shockwave that turns my pussy into a moist, furnace. His mouth tears into the flesh of my neck and my body melts into his as I lose sight of where he ends and I begin.

He sits me on the couch and I bite my lip as I watch him slip out of his coat, whips his tie off and seductively unbuttons his shirt. He pulls me to my feet, then slide my dress over my head and pushes me back on the couch. He places his tie around my wrists, securing them together. Then he yanks his belt off in one swoop move. He slips the belt around the tie and pulls my arms to the back of the couch where he attaches the buckle to a sturdy drawer knob before returning to the coffee table.

My breathing grows heavier as my anticipation blossoms and I watch as he flips the tabs on both briefcases, revealing an assortment of sexual accessories. He grabs two pairs of handcuffs and with a sly smile, he slips my silky panties off and spreads my legs wide, as he anchors each ankle to the couches legs. I’m overtaken with nerves and adrenal, his touch ignites a pleasant, tingling sensation that I’ve never felt before.

I tremble as his lips drift over my skin, traveling up my leg and stopping with a kiss on my smooth mound. His fingers gently part my lips and I feel heated through, though I shake with an unfamiliar chill that passes over my body with ever pass his tongue makes over my throbbing clit. Even alone, I’m often too shy to moan but the bottle of wine seems to wash away any care and my moans echo off the vaulted ceilings.

I fight the restraints as my body shakes with rhythmic waves of ecstasy that leave me breathless and trembling after every pass. His tongue dances in my depths as he laps up my juices and I cum all over again as I feel the delightful inner dance of oral for the first time. He pauses and turns, pulling out a small toy, no bigger than one of my fingers. I can hear the buzz as he switches it on and my body jerks as he begins to gently massage my clit with it.

My pussy aches for penetration and with each orgasm I’m unsure of how much more I can stand. I have reached a point where I’m not sure if I want to moan, laugh, scream or cry and I’m enjoying every minute of it but it does have a way of wearing one down quite rapidly, especially after so many drinks. I begin to lose momentum when I feel the sensation of his thick fingers enter me and another wave of ecstasy takes over. My hips grind as I ride his thick, probing fingers, using every muscles I have to fight off another orgasm but the arousal is too strong and I lose my battle in a glorious burst of creamy cum.

He lays the toy aside, then sucks my flavor from his fingers before diving back between my legs to clean up my soaking wet pussy. He rises, cum covered and comes to stand over me. He rubs the head of his cock over my lips as if he were knocking at a door to be let in. I part my lips, letting him fall into my mouth and take to sucking on his head. He forces his way further into my mouth and I open wide, allowing him to glide freely into the depths of my throat, a task I had practiced on countless popsicles, over the years.

Just as my jaw begins to tire, he climbs back down and pulls a slim cock from his briefcase. He uses the tip of toy to tease myhole, then slowly slides the cock in, gently fucking me until the cock moves smoothly. He sets that cock aside and pulls out another, a tad larger than the last and repeats the processes until his more average sized toy was able to move within me, freely. Then he sets it aside, leaving his cock to the be largest thing that will enter me. His head pulls at my already stretched flesh and I wince as he slides his thick, throbbing member into my sensitively swollen vagina – aching from almost non-stop orgasms.

At first he moves just as easily as he had with the toy cocks but it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed and my moans are echoing throughout the room, once more. He pounds me, making my pussy sore but it doesn’t stop me from cumming time and time again. He releases my arms and legs then pulls me down to the floor, bringing me to all fours. He slides in, pushing himself deep and making his balls tap my clit as he repeatedly slams me, causing us to cum together as he drives himself deep, one last time.

I crash down on the cold wood floor, allowing it to cool my skin as I work at catching my breath. As I lay there, the wine begins to catch up and my eyes grow heavy as I’m now fully worn from the hours of intense pleasure. I can feel as he rolls me back and lifts me from the floor, gently laying me on the couch and covering me with a nearby blanket, before planting a kiss on my forehead and disappearing into the early morning hours.

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