This is my first story and I pretty much just winged it.
So I hope you enjoy you lil freaks.
*****
I remember the first time I met Mister. I was working in a retail store when he walked by. A tall, lanky fella. I noticed his hair first, as I do any guy(If he is too far away for me to see his teeth that is). Long dreads, that cascaded down his back between his semi-broad shoulders. Stacked up 6'1 in height (tall for me, being only 5'3). Glided in long , swoop like strides. As if he was walking to music. Had a peanut butter skin complexion that you could of swore was blatantly drizzled with honey. His lips were voluptuous, very piquant. I quickly snap out of it as he walks towards me, his voice so deep I can feel the vibrations inside me.
"Miss?"
"Uh, yeah, hey, how can I help you?"
He casually smirks and leans forward to whisper in my ear:
"Well, it's not much of a question as it is a statement. I saw you making eyes at me as I walked by. Here's my number. I want you to text me as soon as you get off work, not a minute after."
He tucks a card into my smock pocket and strolls off before I even have time to respond .. vocally that is. I could feel my natural juices moisten up my inner thighs. What was so stimulating about him being so demanding, so direct. I mean I didn't even know this guy, I was window shopping his existence, and now I'm curious and I need more.
...
The end of my shift finally rolls around, and I rush to the back to clock out. I gather my things, and quickly dart out to my car. I get in, and take a deep breath, whilst pulling what I was guessing his business card out of my smock.
The card was blank except for his name and number typed in black in the center.
Mister
xxx-xxx-xxxx
Quickly I grab my phone, and I punch in the numbers.
"Hey, uh Mister?"
A few moments went by before he responded.
"Hello, Bright eyes. Good to see you know how to listen."
"Uh, yeah? I guess so."
"I would like to make you dinner so you can get to know me a little more, vice versa. Tomorrow at 6, wear something in a navy blue blend. Would you mind shooting me your address please?"
"Wallaby Way"
"Lovely, see you then."
My phone slips out from my fingers and I sit there for a moment puzzled, still awfully aroused. I try to process the events of this night but shake it off, light a cigarette and head home for the night.
The next morning I wake up to a text from Mister. It read:
"Good morning bright eyes. I prefer your hair to be up by the way. Arrange that please. I will be there at precisely 6 o' clock and I expect you to be there ready and waiting and not a minute after."
"Goodmorning, and sure thing. See you then, man."
His straightforwardness began to once again arouse me. This time with no mercy. I drop my phone to my side, reach into my side drawer and pull out my little vibration bullet. Already naked, I slide my toy between my legs, pressing the button twice to gain a medium speed. My fingers cop a feel against my cream glazed lips, and I place the toy on my semi-swollen clit. Massing in small circles, mocking the movements of my swaying hips. Small moans release from between my parting plump lips. I picture Mister. I picture his hands running up and down my body as if they were running through my hair, making chills appear and the hair raise on the back of my neck. The thought of him alone brings me to a quick and sudden climax. My aphrodisiac howls echo throughout the empty house.
The day drags along, as I impatiently wait. I start getting ready around 4:00, washing my medium long, burgundy red hair, and thick, curvaceous, porcelain white body. Following by blow drying and applying the usual makeup. I search my closet for something navy blue, and ended up only having a slutty dress, that revealed way too much for a first date. So I figure he would be okay with me wearing black instead, since I have a more, formal, covering dress. I put it on, and put my hair up into a bun, and add a big white bow to front, on top of my head. I put on some white heals, pearl necklace, and earrings. I pick out my favorite pair of white heels, 6 inches high, with a Mary Jane like strap across the top of the foot. I top it off with a wine red lipstick, and go sit on my front porch about 5:55 PM and wait.
He pulls up, precisely at 6, walks up and greets me.
"You didn't wear the navy blue I asked for, but you did the bun, mm and the bow..." he said slightly agitated yet strangely pleased, but obviously not trying to express as such.
"Oh well, we learn from our mistakes." He wraps his arm around my waist, walks me to the car opens the door, and I get in. He closes the door with a soft "click", walks around and climbs in himself.
He's fairly quiet the whole ride, as if something particular was on his mind that he was focusing on specifically.
About 15 minutes pass and we finally arrive. Decent house, one like you'd see in Florida. Made of red brick. Double wide size.
We unload from the car, and travel inside his domain. The inside was dimmed down, soft R&B playing in the background, and a cute, candle lit dinner was bestowed in front of us. He comes up behind me, and gently removes my cardigan, his fingers gliding down my chill risen, porcelain skin. I shudder on the inside. As if he was some sort of chocolate cupid, as if his touch could make you instantaneously fall in love.
He then pulls a chair out for me.
"Sit."
My soul sits me down at his command. Weird. I'm not one to listen to people, especially if they don't even say please. Although my face may appear twisted, my body language was involuntarily profound. I could feel my nipples perking, and rubbing against the lacy material of my bra. Inside my head, I rapidly prayed it didn't show through the thin material of the dress.
He seated himself in front of me, and just began chatting.
After dinner, we moved to the couch where he offered a blunt. In which I happily agreed too. We smoked for a bit, chatting about nothing, until he asked made the most off the wall comment.
"I know you like me, and I like you too. I feel like you would be great fit."
"Great fit? You make it sound like I'm a new pair of pants you just bought that make your ass look good."
"Mmm, but that smart ass mouth has to go."
"Excuse me?"
"I surely don't like repeating myself" he responds with a soft sigh. "Since you're new, I'll give you a break for now. I said that smart ass mouth has to go."
Speechless. Absolutely speechless. Not really with the words he said, but mostly how he said it. So much assertiveness, so stern. I wasn't nearly as upset as I was confused. I didn't mistake what he said, just how it made me feel. I try to un-noticeably squirm myself back to comfort on the couch. I was regaining that dampened feeling between my legs.
"Where's your bathroom?" I ask for some reason timidly.
"Down the hall, second door on your left. Before you go, I'd prefer you to address me after every question you ask and every answer you respond with."
I nod and scurry into the bathroom. Why was I so aroused? Why is he tantalizing me? I needed to wipe myself down before my juices seep through my panties and down my legs. I sit on the toilet, gather some TP and dry up my glazed lips. Mmm. I wipe again, the pressure on my throbbing clit felt so good. I discard the TP and just begin massaging my clit with my middle finger. Moans fight to break out between my pursed lips. I was so into it that I didn't hear the footsteps coming to the bathroom door.
Soft but noticeable moans had finally penetrated my lips as I get closer to reaching an orgasm. My fingers moving fast, making a slosh like sound, swimming in my natural glaze.
I hear the door swing wide open, and Mister stood there with a barbaric licentious look on his face.
"Masturbating?! In my bathroom? Oh no, you're going to learn real quick how good girls should behave and how bad girls get punished."
He comes over to me and jerks me up by my arm and drags me into a room. Immediately he comes behind me and blindfolds me. I'm lead to one spot, and ordered to hold still. I can feel my juices cascading down my legs as if I were pissing myself. I was terrified, I was confused, I was nervous, but boy was I horny.
