And I Didn’t Even Realize That Things Were Going Terribly Wrong Until It Was Too Late
It’s the annual foundation day party for our stock brokerage firm. It is getting close to midnight, the time when men are drunk and women are easy. You are on the cramped dance floor lit with psychedelic colours. The dance floor itself is part of a luxury resort the firm has rented out for the night. The theme of the party is “what happens in Vegas…”
Infidelity is not implicit or permissible, it is the rule of the house for the night.
Anyway, getting laid with your regular partner on a night like this is so—what’s the word?—mundane. I mean, why spend three hours in the morning making sure all is waxed, trimmed, polished and shaved, then spend another marathon session with your hair stylist, make frantic phone calls to besties to help you choose underthings, and then put on your sexiest little black dress if you don’t want a new cock? At some level even your steady boyfriend knows this.
Now your target is locked and acquired. And boy is he loaded. Milan, the 40-year-old head of finance at your firm. He has eyes for you, always has. You feel his eyes moving over your firm buttocks with such naked lust it’s a wonder he’s not drooling. He is tall, does not shave below his neck and is supposedly hung like a horse. What more could a girl possibly want?
A moment of solitude as he catches you on your way to the upstairs bathroom. Both of you are too old for games at this stage of revelries. He simply takes you behind a life sized cut-out of some movie star and kisses you. Hard. His hands cup and knead your buttocks so firmly, you’re certain he’ll leave imprints of his fingers behind.
When his phone rings, he jumps. A few people pass through the corridor.
“Later, sweetie,” you say, and run off to the ladies room.
But the slut in you is in overdrive. While you kissed him his manhood brushed your thigh. Since your dress is pure satin, the touch of his cock through your clothing sent a jolt you could feel right through to your lady parts.
You do your business and instead of pulling your panties up, you step out of them and tuck them inside your purse. You hesitate for a moment, after all it is an expensive item, this lace and trim black thing, and you spent nearly a week’s pay buying it. Do you want to hand it to this one night stand, knowing you’ll never get it back?
You have to.
You walk back into the party and Milan again sweeps you away from the crowd, escorting you to the darkened exit of the clubhouse.
You kiss, and this time you take his hand and gently place it inside beneath the seem of your dress. He nearly screams in pleasure when his hand moves up and up and finds nothing but your pliant flesh covered with your smooth, scented skin.
Cock tease that you are, you pull his hand out just at the last minute and put your panties in it.
“What these panties were covering a moment ago is tight, wet and waiting for you. Provided you bring some man to it,” you say, rubbing the bulge in his pants.
“Oh yes,” he promises.
You ask him to meet you on the grounds behind the resort, where all the vehicles are parked. It would be a hotbed of all the brokers and their girls fucking at the moment and you’d love a ride in his car (wink wink).
Before you leave he presses something into your palm.
“Just for fun baby, cover your eyes with this,” he says as you evaluate the black silk scarf that would serve as a make shift blindfold.
You walk alone in the darkened parking lot. The attendant sitting in the dark booth does not wake up as you pass him by. Now your heels don’t click on the soft ground. You find his car unlocked and open the door. You climb in the backseat and tie the blindfold around your eyes. This is kinda fun, you say to yourself as you feel your private parts starting to tingle. Your nipples are stiff like a couple of pebbles.
“Myra,” you hear his voice. It is muffled, as if he is trying hard to whisper and sound menacing at the same time.
“Get out of the car, baby” he says.
You smile and fumble your way out of the backseat. He grips your wrist. He is wearing gloves. The touch is strange and arousing for no reason. He takes you to the other side of the car and asks you to hold the roof with both hands.
Another kinky touch, you feel the blade of a knife on your throat.
“Turn around or make some noise and you are dead. Got it?”
Oooooo. This is fun, you giggle and wiggle your butt for his benefit. He raises your dress and cold air hits your bare bottom. You again make “ooh” and “aah” sounds as his gloved hand travels between your legs. You are smooth there, oh so smooth. His hand cups your pussy-lips while his lips kiss your bare neck. He is lowering your dress strap from your shoulder. Your nipple perks up instantly in the cold air. He cups your brown firm breast with one gloved hand. You try to turn and he pushes your face back into the cold glass.
“Aahh I wanted you from the first time I saw you,” he says, as his gloved finger pushes inside your pussy.
The whole experience is strange and uncomfortable. But arousing, oh so arousing. He fingers you using his gloved finger while his other hand roams your breast, back, and finally your buttocks. He turns your around and makes you kiss his lips. His lips taste different and they are feverish. You attribute it to lust.
“Be quick lover, someone might come,” you plead.
He smiles and licks your bare back. You cry loud enough to be heard and he promptly pushes your head into the glass again.
Now you hear the fumbling of a zipper and his cock touches your pussy-lips. You brace yourself as his cock rams your pussy in one swift experienced move. Your first cry of pleasure is muffled. He holds your breasts through your armpits and pumps you. It is a steady pump that slowly builds intensity. You wish your eyes were open. You wish you were on your back instead of this position. You would have loved to see the expression on his face as his cock is enveloped by the slippery, sensuous, firm walls of your vagina. You wish you could see the compliment in his eyes rather than merely hearing it in his laboured, jagged edge breathing.
“Yes…oh yes,” he repeats as he invades you again and again.
This is a quickie so you know it won’t go the full twelve rounds. Who cares, though, right?
Sure enough, you feel his tempo become painfully intense for half a minute before he grabs your breasts in a grip hard enough to hurt and this time he can do nothing about that loooong sigh of orgasm you produce as he empties himself.
You are sobbing with pleasure now. You want to turn but he just keeps you pinned as he catches his breath.
Again the cold knife on your bare back. You giggle.
“Don’t move for at least 2 minutes, Sweety” he says. You hear trousers getting pulled up and a zipper being pulled up. Then his footsteps move slowly away from you.
You open the car door and collapse on the backseat. You are sore, you are out of breath, and you are as happy as a sugar fiend in a candy store.
You pull the dress down to cover your sticky thighs and close the door shut. You lie there, trying to breathe normally when your mobile phone buzzes. You open your purse in search of your phone, but you’re in no hurry.
You have a message from Milan. Ooooh, compliment time! You smile to yourself as you open the message.
“Sorry baby, wife unexpectedly arrived. Will take rain check. Later.”
The message was sent twenty minutes back. Your smile vanishes, giving way to an expression that can only be described as a silent scream of realization.