WILD PLEASURE {short erotic stories} Chapter 112: Man from the bar (2)

But he didn't come. He lasted and lasted until she regained her sense of reality-- at least that's how it felt, as if the sudden, overwhelming compulsion to fellate him had been a psychedelic trip-- and she raised her head to look around. In that insane moment she'd totally forgotten where she was, that anyone could have looked in from the street.

"Don't worry. I was watching out. Pause for a minute." He started the car and they continued down the street. "More."

She thought at first he meant she should continue her confession. But she'd already told him about that. And yes, she still held his cock, which was still stiff. So this wasn't the instant blow job fantasy she'd just tried to make real, this was something maybe more interesting, more than a blow job. She'd given blow jobs, of course, to both her two previous serious boyfriends, to their immense, babbling gratitude. They'd been good experiences. But the 'job' aspect dominated, more like doing a friend a favor than-- than-- whatever this was.

She bent down again and took his cock back between her lips, lightly massaging it. She'd never given road head before and didn't want to cause an accident. Her tongue was already on him before the thought arrived in her head that she could have refused him, or at least told him to wait. But that thought was not welcome. It seemed so natural and right to do what she wanted to do anyway.

She seemed to split into multiple personalities as the ride and the blow job rolled on. The scientist in her pointed out the risk she was taking, that she was giving road head to a man she barely knew while he drove her God knew where. But that just impelled another, new part of her to polish his knob with a focus on stimulating every male nerve cell to ensure he valued her as the best knob polisher a man could ever want. And the quiet

 blonde she used to be, the nice girl, who would sit back and let boys compete for her attention, that girl was paradoxically the happiest of all. She didn't understand it, but the freedom she felt in not holding back was a tangible pleasure. She was sucking on a mouthful of bliss. At a stop that had to be a traffic light she started to lift her head, but his hand pressed her back down. "Suck." That was enough. The rest of the trip was a timeless flow, his cock, his hums of pleasure, his hand in her hair, his fluid leaking onto her tongue. Maybe he told her to suck him more times or maybe she just imagined him saying it to her. It didn't matter. She obeyed and that doubled her pleasure.

She lifted her head up as he released her and they entered a parking garage, sat up and tried to straighten her clothes. The valet gave her a look, not just the usual look men gave her. In the elevator she could see herself in the mirrored panels. That lip gloss she'd put on in the ladies room showed what she'd been doing with her mouth, if you knew what to look for. Most of her was mortally embarrassed; but a part of her was pleased. More confusion.

Before she could ponder for long why she might feel pleasure at revealing to a stranger that she'd been performing fellatio in public, they were in his apartment and she was facing him in his hallway as the door closed. They were alone. She felt she should get down on her knees, as she'd fantasized. As she'd told him she'd fantasized. She looked down. "Come this way," he said and led her into the main living area.

It was very nice, minimal chic. She knew she could sit on the inviting couches, but she was buzzing with energy. "What-- what has got into me?"

"Let me make you a drink."

"Yes, something strong," she requested, following him into the kitchen. "Why did I just do that?"

 "You mean suck my cock?" He held out a bottle. "Bourbon? Ice?" "I mean... everything."

"Because you wanted to."

"I guess so. Yes, I mean-- you never actually told me to, to do that. I mean, maybe you said, you know, something to urge me on. Oh wait. Were you telling me over and over to do it while I was, you know? But that was fine, that was great. You were just saying what was in my head." She smiled her smile. "Like you were."

He handed her the drink. "Oh God, thanks, I need this." She sipped, then drank a healthy gulp. It was strong. "Yes." Another gulp. "So," she tried. He didn't take the bait. "So. So, what would you like me to do now?"

He looked her up and down. He took long enough that she got a little scared. Was he taking her offer, maybe too open-ended, literally? She'd fully expected to continue her fantasy-turned-real, to be told to continue and then finish the blow job she'd begun and then probably leave-- no probably get fucked. That thought made her tremble all over. She tried to think of something he might ask, some really perverted act, that she would refuse to perform. But she couldn't think of any, or at least they were all in that vague frontier of sex that she'd never expected to encounter but secretly, possibly, in the distant future, hoped she might at least try once or twice.

He finally spoke, looking straight into her with those disconcerting eyes: "You should volunteer to be my sex slave."