First Meeting

I can hear you talking, but my mind is elsewhere. I concentrate on keeping my gaze on your face and not the crotch of your pants. How can I be expected to sit still and have a conversation when I know the real reason I am here? I press my hands into my thighs and I can feel the lace of my stocking tops through my skirt. Did you notice the stockings when I sat down? I couldn’t tell. I smile at you and sip my beer. You are a fine conversationalist, but this is excruciating. The conversation I want to be having doesn’t involve nearly so much talking. I don’t know what you’re really thinking. Are you as wound up as I am inside? Your easy smile betrays nothing. My impatience gets the better of me and I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I stand and pause to give you a long pointed look before I walk away. In the bathroom I shut the door and lean my back against it. There’s no way of telling whether you got the message. I try to stop my heart from pounding as I wait. If I’d been wearing panties, they’d be soaked through by now. When I hear your soft knock at the door my body tenses. You step inside and close the door behind you. I try desperately to think, but I can’t find anything to say. Evidently I don’t need to. You reach for me, pulling my blouse down and squeezing my breast briefly. I find myself being turned around, your chest pressing into my back as you take hold of my hands and place them on top of the stall door. I close my eyes as you pull my skirt up to my waist. I hear you unzipping behind me and suddenly my skin is electrified. A pregnant pause, and I imagine you are considering me, though I don’t know for sure since I’m facing away from you and my eyes are closed anyway. I nearly jump when your cock finds my pussy, but your hands find my hips and hold me there, pulling me back to meet every thrust. I bite my lip to keep from moaning – there are people in the bar just feet away on the other side of the door. It’s futile though. I can’t keep quiet when I start to come, and I can’t hold onto the door any longer either. I reach back and grip your hips hard, pulling you tight against me while my cunt rhythmically squeezes your cock, and then you’re coming too, leaning into me and bracing us against the door to keep us from falling. We stand that way for a few moments, just catching our breath, and then you quietly slip out the door. I wait what seems a respectable amount of time and then follow you, hoping that no one notices my knees that are still shaking.

Muse

Sorry for the lack of updates. For reasons I'm not really clear on, I've been abandoned by my muse. I started writing a story about some payback for that, but it got depressing. Feel free to make suggestions, especially really really hot ones. If you fire up my brains it will be easier to fire up my keyboard.