Ch. 2. The Erotic Adventures Of Erica Hunt.

My hero merely stood there, staring at my headlights. I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair then placed them on my hips. I spread my legs, wide, getting a good stance with my boots on the floor. I filled my lungs, threw my head back, looked him squarely in the eye and yelled out: "RA --". That was all I could get out. He bolted from the door, scooped my coat up in his hands and pushed me into his apartment. He closed and locked the door behind him, panting from his effort. I continued down the hallway, giggling: "Oh, Tiger, you're so forceful!"

I strutted 'round his living room, reveling in my nakedness. I could feel his eyes glued to my ass like leeches. Well, like one leech anyway, and a snail. I stopped at different points around the room and posed, presenting my ass or tits toward him, spreading my legs, cocking my hips and pretending not to notice his laser-like stare.

"What do you want?", he asked me.

That stopped me. I turned and walked back to him, swaying my hips exaggeratedly, jiggling my breasts in his face. I stopped an arms length away and looked him in the eye:

"What I want, my little Pussycat, my passive-aggressive wimp, my self-denying self-abuser, - what I want is to fuck you in the ass." He gulped. His face turned twenty shades of red and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and trickled down his brow. It was then - and I can't believe it took me all that time to notice, that I realized he was dressed in a towel and nothing else. Which meant he'd showered for our 'date'. Which meant in turn that all his drama at the doorway - his pretend reluctance to let me in, was just that - pretense. He'd manipulated me - 'Topping From The Bottom' a real Dominatrix would say. He wanted to be forced! I bet he secretly enjoyed the pain of being hit. I reached out and slapped him, hard, with my gloved right hand.

"What the fuck?", he said and lifted his hands - which still held my coat, to his face. I stepped back and looked down at his crotch. Sure enough, his towel tented slightly out then further as his cock grew hard beneath it. The movement caused the towel to unravel at his waist and it slid down his hips but didn't fall. Instead it hung there from his cock which was fully hard now and bouncing up and down a bit in time with his heart-beat. The towel bounced along with it.

"This puts a whole new perspective on things, Pussycat", I told him. "Up 'till now I've been pretty gentle with you. Now the gloves are off. Metaphorically speaking", I said, pulling my gloves taut at the elbow as I spoke. " You don't know when you're well off".

"What do you mean?", he asked, interested in spite of his pouting act.

"Well", I said, "you were going to pay three hundred bucks to some indifferent hooker who would've wagged a whip in front of you and jerked you off while she chewed gum and checked her watch.

« Previous Page | Next Page »