I stand at end of pier 48, a gentle breeze fluttering my earring against my neck. The water looks black at this late hour, and is kissing the piles like one would kiss the cheek of baby. I breathe in the salt in the air; I let it fill my lungs and cleanse my conscious. I stand here still, my eyes closed, just relishing the feeling of cum finding its way to my thigh from my velvet hole. Its sweet smelling, that deliciously sweet aroma that comes only from the hot juice of a woman and the anxiously spilled seed of a man being blended together. It's like adding honey to tea.
I am a hunter of men.
Some would label me a slut, a whore, a cock hound; use any colloquialism that comforts you. They are all correct. I love getting fucked, and by men that know how.
I get off from allowing the object of my desire to think he's stalking ME. Let him feel victorious, I don't care. When he's fucking the shit out of me doggie, grabbing my hips and spanking my ass, it is I that am the victor. I have dictated the behavior to be just as I desired. However tonight, as I admire the moon sprinkling the bay with her beams, I wonder. I wonder if the man who filled my tight holes this night had bested me. And I didn't even know it!
I was walking through the Barnes and Noble this evening; around 7pm. Appearing nonchalant I quickly took in the lay of the land. Not one man of any interest. I walked into the café to order myself a Chai latte, and leaned backwards somewhat to catch a view of a man tapping away on his laptop. I was semi-obvious; I wanted him to look up. I am sure my pupils grew instantly large when he glanced my way. What an amazing face I saw looking up at me! This was not a face all women would find sexy, but it was sexy to me. And of course, that is what counts, is it not?
We made eye contact. He smiled and went back to his computer screen. Honestly I was a bit put off by this. I was dressed in a black skirt and ivory colored halter top that showed off my large tits and curvy hips. His gaze didn't linger, or show interest. I'm not a skinny thing, but my proportions have generally been most pleasing to my conquests. I froze the image of his face in my minds eye.
He had casually cut brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, a look I favor tremendously. He was wearing great specs, lenses cut in a sort of rectangle shape, very chic. His eyes were brown, I wasn't close enough to gage the exact color; I hoped they were closer to hazel. I put him in his early 40's, and I saw no ring. Not that marital status has any bearing on whom I hunt. I don't care one way or the other. His indifference to me was bothersome, and of course a challenge. I now had a conquest targeted.
I took my latte and had a seat 2 tables away from him. I sat facing him, hoping to catch his attention in some way. How to be coy? I focused in on his belongings to see if there was conversation hiding there. He was wearing a classy Movado watch and had a copy of Stephen King's The Eye of the Dragon. There was my opening.
"You know," I said wistfully and gesturing to the book, "that is my favorite King story. I've never seen anyone reading it."
He looked up and smiled again. He had slightly imperfect teeth but a wide grin and so very sexy lips. Kissable lips. I awaited his reply. Would I like his voice? Was he witty and smart? So many hurdles to clear before I would really start thinking about his cock and what he might be able to do with it. Of course looking back now, the King book on the table so visibly placed was HIS bait. I took it like a largemouth bass molests a nightcrawler. He had only to set the hook.
"It's the best he's done I think" he said, "I've read it many times. A classic tale of good and evil told with such simple elegance. The man's a rare talent."
Ok I thought, that was an intelligent response. We bantered for some time about books and moved on to music. He asked me to join him so we didn't have to talk across tables. I did so most greedily. He was definitely showing interest; perhaps he was just the shy type that doesn't get into the prolonged eye contact to convey attraction. I was hoping he was decadent in bed. I was sure I would find out, and in the very near future. I looked at my watch, it was 8:30.
"Gosh I'm hungry" I said casually. "Haven't eaten since lunch. Would you like to grab a bite with me?"
He sighed. "I would, but I have a presentation in the morning. My chat with you has put me a bit behind on my PowerPoint slides." I was about to apologize for being a distraction when he added, "Though I'm happy you took me away for a bit, I've enjoyed talking with you."
I couldn't believe this is how it was going to end. There had been a fair amount of flirting; we were checking each other out subtly the entire time we had been chatting.
"How bout this" he asked. "Give me your cell number; I should be done in an hour or so. Maybe we could meet for a cup of coffee and dessert somewhere. I'll call when I'm done if that interests you."
Me waiting?? I think not. The huntress doesn't sit and wait for her prey to decide it will cross the street. She goes boldly into the woods with crossbow in hand. In a surreal turn of events I found myself saying that sounded great, and I looked forward to seeing him again. I think at that point I really still thought I was in control. That he was my conquest because he was "finding" a way to meet up at a later time. However, he was really leaving the loose end. Maybe he would call; maybe he would be done with his work, maybe, maybe, maybe. So off to dinner I went, waiting for my prey to call.
I went to my favorite sushi bar and ordered up some sashimi and Sake. The minutes ticked by as I wondered about him. I stayed until 10, milking my meal and drinks till the place was closing down. Fuck him, I figured. I stumbled a little on my way out; the Sake was doing its work on my equilibrium. I was pulling the car keys from my purse when my phone rang. The huntress would have just let it ring. It was too late. But I answered. He knew I would.
"Hi there you", I said casually. "All ready for your presentation?"
"I am" he said cheerfully, "Sorry it took so long, I understand if it's too late."
I assured him it wasn't, now focused in on the memory of his savory lips, dying to know what they tasted like. I got desperate, a little reckless. Though he certainly seemed no axe murderer, I found myself telling him that it was such a lovely night, would he like to come to my place and share some wine on my veranda? I lived about 10 minutes from the bookstore; it wouldn't be out of his way. He agreed and met me in front of my building.
I parked on the street and saw him waiting in his car. He drove a newer model BMW, so I assumed he was making ends meet as far as his career went. Question was, could he make me cum by tonguing my clit?
He saw me and exited his car. We greeted each other with smiles and hellos; I hooked my arm in his and led him up the walk to my place. I dropped my key on purpose, and slowly bent over to pick it up. My curvaceous ass "accidentally" brushed his zipper as I grabbed the key. I thought I heard him giggle, but when I stood up and looked at him he was wearing a look of indifference, as if he hadn't noticed. What a snake!
Once inside he kicked off his shoes. Was he respectful or making himself too comfortable? I still found myself on the offensive, feeling as though he was, as the famous book says, "just not that into me". My mind was racing for ways to seduce him. I kicked off my shoes as well, and asked him if he preferred red or white wine.
"I'd love a cabernet if you have it" he said.
