Want - Sex Stories

Want

... food. He ordered the wine. He ordered me to remove my panties. I ate the food. I drank the wine. I removed my panties, then held them in my open palm like an offering before him and ran my tongue slowly across my upper lip before smiling—already growing wet between my legs. Bartholomew likes to play games. Men like him thrive on it. Last night was a “date”. After weeks of fucking like animals in heat with no promises or discussions of anything more, just delving into the demands of our want, he announced that he wanted more than moments. He said that he wanted us to spend some time together. “Time?” The sound of it leaving his lips gave me pause. I raised one eyebrow and avoided his eyes. His early warning to me still echoed in my mind. “I am by nature an unapologetically selfish man. I have been around for a while and I’m set in my ways. There is no room in my life for complications or much of anything else. I like to keep things simple.” He explained himself to me as I lay completely naked in the back seat of his car, his driver partitioned off and hopefully blind as well as deaf to what we had been engaged in. He described who he was and what he wanted just before slipping the dark, hardened nipple of my right breast into his mouth, latching on and pulling. “Simple,” I repeated dutifully, closing my eyes and letting my mind drift upon the wave he was creating. At that moment, I wanted simplicity too. I simply wanted him to do the same exact thing to my left nipple. Our ...

... moments have been in bathroom stalls with my legs held high, or against brick walls with the voices of others threateningly close. We had a moment once at the front of his foreign sports car that conveniently only seats two, with the head lights leaving us unhidden on a lonely road to some event left waiting for him—with me bent over, my breasts pressed against a hood still warm from a racing engine. That road and the hood of his car was a special moment. I loved the feel of his hands spread out and cupping my backside. His fingers pressing into my skin as he looked down, watching his engorged cock move in and out of my dark body. Those were stolen moments that left me too lost in him to think about tomorrows. Time is what he wants, his time and on his terms. Time will only reveal the inevitable. Nothing about me is simple, especially this craving that he has created. I am now a mess. Time will only make me an ugly mess, something to be avoided, my calls unanswered. This mess started at an office where I was just a temp in the right place at the right time with the right skirt on. He, with his name on the outside of the building within which I worked, bent down in front of me. Like a true gentleman, in a suit that probably cost several months of my salary, he gathered the papers I had let clumsily fall to the floor as he passed by. His gaze started with the line of my calf and did not stop until his smiling brown eyes were boring into mine, with a fire so strong that I was ...