52- Rice your glass

We ravage each other with languid strokes and it is as though my entire being has been transformed into some sort of ethereal instrument, plucked by the expertise of his kiss.

I can no longer remain seated. I need my body as close to his as possible so I stumble down from the stool, my grip on him tightening for dear life. I’m on four inch strappy heels but they are not enough, so I lift myself further on the tips of my toes and push my body hard against his.
His is bulging, and at the undeniable proof of my effect on him, my alcoholism infused promiscuity is driven up a notch.
My hands move away from his shoulders to slide down his rock hard chest and the ridges of sculpted muscle I detect turns me on even further.
“Fuck,” he breaks the kiss to exclaim.
I’m in equal and parallel concurrence with the sentiment. I register his arms curving around my ass to lift me up and once again, I’m deposited back on the stool. It registers that my dress has slid dangerously up my thighs to the point of certainty that I am somewhat exposed but none of that matters because he presses his groin hard into my sex before I can protest.
My back arcs at the ground breaking contact and this time around, a clear shuddering moan escapes my lips.
He traces deep, scalding kisses down my neck as he grinds his crotch into mine, and then his mouth closes around my nipple.
With a jerk, of staggering ecstasy and shock, I am brought back to the present.
This is a complete stranger and we are surrounded by a multitude of people, yet I’m seconds away from being fucked in the midst of it all. And my sister... she is probably watching all of this with the shock of the century. I pull away from him and if not for his hold on my waist, I would have fallen off the stool.
He immediately respects my retreat and steps back, but keeps his hold on me to ensure that I don’t fall.
My hand is on his chest to hold him at bay, but I can’t look him in the eyes just yet. That was much more intense than I had anticipated and it had freaking rocked my world.
With a quick smile, I turn away to get myself together and soon recover my senses. Now all I can think about is his mouth on other places of my body or perhaps in every part of my body. “Thanks for the kiss,” I say, unable to further hold any semblance of a conversation with him.
He leans in, his lips to my ears and I cannot push him away. “Let’s go somewhere,” he says.

I’m of a mind to do exactly that. But then I am not drunk enough to not realize this has gone much farther than I had intended. “I have to get my back to my party,” I breathe my response as I come off the stool. My feet are a bit wobbly.
He catches me by the arm, and only releases me when I assure him that I am fine. “Your sister’s drink.” He says as he lifts the glass.
I accept the glass from him. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, so I curve my hand boldly around the side of his face, stare into his eyes for a brief moment and then plant a kiss just on the underside of his jaw.
I can see that he is quite taken aback by the endearing touch, but I don’t linger. A second longer and I would be sold on doing absolutely whatever he wants.
With the glass in hand, I head back across the floor in search of my sister and best friend.



watch her leave and almost have to physically restrain myself from going after her. Perhaps it’s because it’s been too long since I’ve had a woman. I’ve been so occupied
with the company that I have given no time whatsoever to sexual relations, and I can now see that it’s messing with my head.
After releasing a deep breath, I return back to my meeting on the second floor and we continue with our discussion. However, I have gone considerably quieter and can’t help but stare down the glass view, hoping to catch a glimpse of a blood red dress amidst the sea of people. I know it’s fruitless but still I try, because I can’t get that kiss out of my head. My cock throbs with a delicious ache as it relays to me its desire to be sheathed inside of her... to be milked free of its excitement and frustrations.
“I’m going to call it a night,” the recluse finally announces, and both men rise to their feet. “Me too ,” Mark says. “I’ve gotta get back to the wife and kids.”
I, too, am ready to bring this meeting to a close, so I rise with them and head out. They go on their way when we reach the ground floor while I slip my hands into my pockets. My eyes scan across the sea of writhing bodies and I realize now, I should have at least gotten her phone number.
After paying the tab, I make my way out of the club and call for my car. The night is still quite young at 2 AM but then I figure it’s time to get a good night’s sleep. I toy with the idea of going home with someone else but I can’t work up any motivation for it. Especially after that girl. Blair. I can even still remember her name.
“Fuck,” I curse, wishing once again, that I had gotten her number. The oversight makes me want to smoke a cigarette and it’s been quite a while since I’d indulged in the habit. My Mercedes soon pulls up at the curb.
The young, curly haired valet brings the key over, his eyes wide with excitement. “Sick ride, man.”

I give him a smile as I round the vehicle and get in. In no time, the ignition is started but as I’m about to pull away, there is a tap on the passenger window.
I turn to it, wondering who it could be and meet the view of ample cleavage, and full lips.