Lovers Rock

Finally, Friday has arrived. It's been a long week and I'm looking forward to my weekend. What is on my books for the weekend? The usual...errands, coffee with my girlfriend, nothing out of the ordinary. But, what if today was the day he asked? What if he wanted to pencil himself in for my weekend, that's a nice thought.

What if...today...he asked you. My juicy sweet, velvety dark chocolate skinned stud. He's been watching you for months now at work and I've been following him with my eyes for months now, too.

There's hardly a movement of his that I miss. My eyes have zeroed in on him. I see him watching me too, I see him staring. He's made his move a few times to have conversation with me, follows me back to the break room, says hello on occasion, a smile.

But nothing recently, I question if he's still interested. And, being the salivating cock slut that I am, I find it difficult to sit still and act like good girl, when I know how wet and hot my little aching pussy gets when he walks by my desk. I lose my breath. I begin to pant like a dog. I can't sit still.

I find myself saying under my breath, "God...DAMN!" "Goddamn."

Watching his juicy booty switch when he walks by my desk, eyes bouncing with each juicy switch. Goddamn. And imaging licking that ass, like a good girl does for her man. My mouth falling open as he walks by, Jesus Christ. Someone's going to notice you staring, mouth gaping open, and bust my inner super slut panting like a dog.

He's thick, and solid. Sweet dark chocolate, my favorite. Jesus Christ, so fucking sweet. Fucking beautiful. He could catch you when you fall. Early 30's, just slightly younger than me, wears these sexy sophisticated eyeglasses. Even though he's younger, he's an old school gentleman; he doesn't like an aggressive girl. He likes to take the lead; he likes to be the aggressor himself.

He's picked up on my lines, tall, thin, 5'9," legs, a primed mare, built for two. Creamy soft, vanilla skin. Permeating the need to be disciplined. He stands 5'8," he'll have to climb on to ride me good. Climb up those legs, to do his business right, with his healthy horse cock.

And he continues to keep me waiting, panting, and salivating and aching. While I'm trying to come off as a nice girl, so I don't scare him away. While I sit on my purring pussy, and have difficulty focusing for my job. Finding myself with the need to get up from desk to walk it off and wipe the saliva from my little soaked pussy, and clean up my messy panties.

"Get your head on right." I plead with myself in the bathroom. I scold, "Stop it." "Focus."

I dress for his eyes only, wearing ensembles with pops of suggestion, accentuating body parts, belts around my small waist. Argyle school girl cardigans, pencil skirts, stockings, heels, hints of skin revealed, a shoulder, hoping he can see the silhouette of my garter belt beneath my skirt, or at least peak his curiosity to make him fantasize about what is beneath my skirt.

Hoping his eyes are drawn to my legs, that I'm aching to wrap around him, while he drills me with his horse cock. I don't know how much longer I can wait. I feel knots in the pit of my stomach; it's laced itself into my breath. This curious impulse, an innate, involuntary response. Fuck.

This is what I get to sit with...ALL...DAY...LONG, beating within me, circulating and pulsating inside. Fantasizing about him fucking me, when I come home from the office, touching myself, stroking my dirty little cunt, closing my eyes and imagining what your cock feels like buried inside me. The weight of your body, the heat of our bodies together, your skin next to mine, contrasting skin tones, breathing, fucking, sweating, locked inside me. Fucking. Fucking me good. My legs spread in opposite directions, open for you. Receiving you. Fucking me good. Doing your work, doing your job. Jesus, God.

Please. Just fuck me.

Please, I'm begging you for it. Can you hear that? Can you feel that? I'm begging for it. Bowing down and behaving like a good girl. Trying to be good and obedient, without leading on too much. It's a fine line, and my inner super slut is raging out of control, throwing a fit inside the closet I've locked her in.

And I get to stare at that ass walk by my desk all day long, while everything stops inside of me, eyes following his ass and his body conformation, watching him walk. Studying him. But I can't be the aggressor. He wants to take the reins, he's in control, and he wants me to know that. He knows what he's doing.

He has to come to you, that's just the way it is. He's making me behave, and be his good girl. He's making me wait. He's putting me in my place, making me wait my turn. And all I get to do is put on a tasteful dress, shave my legs, and smile...ONLY when he smiles at me first.

He walks by my desk and smiles at me, says softly, "Hey," like it's a secret.

I smile back, pickup what he just gave to me, his little secret...I'm coming for you. And I'll let him chase it. You can tease my hot little pussy all you want; it's on reserve for you. It's salivating and purring for you. You can come get it, when you tell me it's my turn.

Is he going to let another week go by without saying anything? Am I shut out again? Week after week this is how it goes, for months now. And I'm left with nothing, but my fantasy burning in my head and my soaking wet panties.

Today feels different though. He's been watching intently, all day, sharply and fiercely. Stands up and pretends to stretch, glancing over at me, stands up at his desk to talk to someone he can easily converse with while seated, just stares at me from across the sales floor, he plays it off well. I catch his eyes, every single time though. If he's going to cast, then I'm going to catch. Like his good little girl...I receive.

Is today the day, he tells me it's my turn? Can't you see, I'm primed; I'm ready for you. I'm waiting, I'm ready for you, my pussy is hot for you, baby. I'm ready for you to come take what's yours. I know you can hear that. I know you can feel that.

And today is different. He makes his move, like mama's good boy. He obeys like a good boy. He did hear me. It's a little after 5PM, my week is over, and we're two of the very few remaining people left in the office. I reach for my jacket, my purse, car keys, always pausing and stalling before I leave, signaling to him, giving him yet another opportunity to come get what's on reserve for him. And hoping he will follow me out one of these days.

I slip on my trench coat, tie the belt around my waist, and walk towards the elevator. Walking by him, I notice he's reached for his jacket as well. Waiting for the elevator, he walks around the corner and meets me.

Smiles, and says, "Hey."

I smile back and say, "Hello." "My goodness," and a slight exhale in relief, he did hear me.

"How you doin'?" "How was your week?" With half a smile.

I'm sorry, he said something to me, Jesus Christ, what did he say, I was watching those juicy lips move when he speaks.

I found words, "Good, my numbers are looking good...happy it's Friday," I mustered.

"You have plans?" He asked. "What would you say if I asked you over for a drink, I live nearby?" "It's a nice night."

"I would say, yes," I replied.

The elevator must have heard us, the doors opened. He turns toward me and hovers his hand over the small of my back and stretches one out toward the elevator, motioning, after you.

We walk to his car in the parking garage together, making small talk. He's very respectful, courteous, engaged and listening to what I'm saying. Being a man...doing his job, taking the reins, and I'm letting him.

We get to his car; he opens the passenger door for me. I take my time getting in, my legs are last, taking my time, I'm glad I wore the A-line wrap dress today. As I pull my legs into the passenger seat, the edge of my dress falls open, revealing my thigh up to my hip. He sees it and pauses for a moment.

With a smile, he says, "You dropped something."

He reaches to pull up the edge of my dress and hands it to me, to cover up my exposed thigh.

I smile and say, "Thank you."

Grab it from him and fold my hands together in my lap. He closes the passenger door and walks around the rear of the car; I reach over and open his door for him. He slips into the driver's seat, black leather seats, manual transmission, and he looks fine in his car.

"Goddamn," my eyes say. "Goddamn," I say to myself inside.

This man is fine. My breath picks up from what's in my sight. Not looking at me, but smiling as he reverses, he picked up on the shift in my breath.

"You're breathing heavy, Kelly," he says to me.

I let out a sigh. I'm busted. My super slut, snuck out of the closet. My head falls back to the head rest, in disappointment with myself. Dammit. He's only going to give me so many chances to be his good girl, and I'm at strike two. He knows every trick, a trick can play, and he does not tolerate games.

He's giving me an opportunity; he's really pulling for me to be his good girl. He's laughing at me. He genuinely finds amusement in it. At least I made him laugh. He wants to give me an opportunity; he wants to let me in. He wants to trust me with the reins, he knows I understand he owns me and my little pussy, and will fuck me up, if needed. He wants to trust me because he recognizes strength and needs someone to catch him when he falls on occasion, he would let me catch him.

We make small talk on the way to his house, hashing through our work week, shop talk. The conversation falls and he looks over at me. Locks his eyes on, and runs them down my body, studying...conformation, curves, lines. Examining and exploring with his eyes. No words, and I'm watching his eyes, and he knows it. It's intentional, studying every inch; he's not discreet or trying to be. He wants me to see what his eyes are doing, where they're going. It's a long silence.

And then he says to me, "You know I've been saving you, right?"

Staring at him, I didn't respond. Assuming there was more to that.

He says it again, firmer this time, "You know I've been saving you, right?"

Or, maybe I just wanted to hear him say it again, so he could hear himself saying it again.

I responded this time, "No." "I didn't know that."

"I've been saving you to make sure that it's hot for me." "On reserve, for me." "You knew I was coming for you."

I'm flattered, he thinks so highly of me. I just stared back at him. He's been reserving my pretty little pussy this whole time...just sitting on it. I'm his Ace. Making sure it's hot for Daddy's horse cock. He knew what he was doing to me.

We pull up to his house. He gets out of the drivers seat, walks around the car and opens my door, reaches for my hand to help me up. It is a nice night, early spring. The air is still and perfect. It tickles and whispers on the skin. He walks up to his house and I follow behind him. He checks the mailbox and unlocks the front door, reaches his arm out.

"After you," he says

I walk into his house, he has a nice home, it even smells like home to me. He pauses, watches me meandering for a moment.

Says, "Make yourself at home." "Red or white?"

"Red."

He disappears for a few minutes and I do make myself at home, slip off my heels, set down my purse, and my jacket, checking out his place. I have a seat on the leather sofa. He brings me a glass of red, as requested, sits down next to me, very close, no words. Sipping in silence, glancing over at each other, decompressing mutually, in silence, both of our legs crossed. Just sitting in silence, it felt comfortable, it feels like home. And then without looking at me, staring forward.

He says to me, "Why don't you come over here and straddle those legs across my cock."

It was not a request, but a command. I sat there in silence for a few moments, a pause rather. Letting his words and his voice resonate and ring in my ears, slowly chewing and digesting every single word, savoring his words and his voice. I've been waiting to hear him say those words.

Like a good girl, I obeyed. Obediently rose to my feet, set down my glass of wine. Turned facing him, staring down at him. I pull up my dress to mid-thigh, placed one knee to the outside of his leg and the other to the outside of his opposite leg, straddling him, up on my knees, just like he told me to do, staring down at him. In silence. Waiting for my next command.

He sets down his glass of wine, places his hands on my hips and shoves me down hard on his cock. He's solid hard and fits me perfectly between my legs. He breathes in and exhales at contact, closes his eyes momentarily. Deep inhale and hard exhale again, relaxing into our bodies connecting. No movement, still in silence, he stares at me and sits in the moment.

He brings his hands up my thighs, strokes my legs up and down, several times, runs his hands from my knees up to my hips and brings them back down the sides. Long, slow strokes up and around my hips, going further and further underneath my dress with each pass. Watching his own hands, as he runs them up and down my legs, I loved watching him stroke my thighs.

He runs his hands around my ass, is holding my ass in his hands, then slaps me, hard. I like it like that, it turns me on. I rise off his lap; it was his signal for me to rise. He follows the lace of my G-string panties down my ass, runs his fingers across my pussy, they're soaked. He feels the heat and moisture soaking through my panties; he looks at me and smiles.

No hiding my messy panties from him. Guilty I am, he has this pussy salivating and dripping for his cock. Still stroking my pretty little pussy on the outside of my soaked panties. I placed my hands on the back of the sofa, leaning forward, so he has room to do his work. He pulls my panties aside and pokes me with his finger.

"OH!" I gasped.

My eyes widen and I jump slightly, I wasn't expecting to be poked just yet, but he found what he was looking for, he went right for it, Daddy's hot little cunt. He removes his finger and slips it into his mouth, eye brows raising in approval. I'm relieved...my little pussy is palatable to him. Then dips his finger back inside of me, circling my little pussy, stroking my clit with his thumb, pumping and pulsing my little hot cunt with the tip of his middle finger, my pussy is juicy wet for his cock.

I ask him, "May I?" as I look down at his cock.

"Yes," He replies.

I unbutton his shirt first, and take out his cock. He allows me stroke his beautiful cock, while he primes my little pussy, fucking me with the tip of his finger. Teasing me with his finger.

He rises from the sofa and gestures me to follow him, to make our way to his bedroom. Stopping in the dining room, he puts me up on the edge of the table. Lifts up my legs, facing him, and continues to fuck me with his finger, tongue down my throat. Intermittent delicate soft kisses, placing his juicy soft lips on mine. His forehead to mine. He continues to allow me to stroke his cock.

Saying, "You like that, baby?" "You like it when I fuck you with my finger?"

He makes me stand up at the dining table, turns me around and comes in behind me, still fucking me with his finger, making me hold my own dress up with one hand, so he can fuck me, and one hand placed on the table, leaning over, while he jerks his own cock.

I'm begging him, "Please."

I whisper to him, "I'm ready."

He says, "No." "Not yet."

I'm ready, I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't have him inside me. I need him inside. My hips jerking involuntarily, I'm ready. I'm ready for him to slide his cock inside me.

I ask again, "I'm ready, baby."

He says, "No."

He takes me by the hand and leads me into his bedroom. Lays me down on the bed on my back and lies next to me, untying my dress and lets it fall open, falling to my sides. Sucking and licking on Mama's titties, licking and biting my nipples, massaging my little pussy. But he won't give me his cock. He won't penetrate me; he won't fuck me with his cock. He slaps my titties, in a reprimanding manner. And then does it again, harder this time, and his face turns stern, I've misbehaved.

He lays beside me, his cock falling in between our legs, our mouths together, I reach down to touch him, and he stops me this time. He halts my hand sharply by pinning it between our legs. He's firm, he means it, he won't allow me to touch him. But continues to fuck me with his finger and shakes his head gently me at me, staring at me. My legs spread open, I'm completely exposed.

I'm begging him, "Please." "I want Daddy's cock." "I'm ready for my Daddy's cock." "I'm ready, baby."

But he won't give it to me. He keeps telling me no.

And then, he tells me, "You're gonna cum on those fingers first." "That's what you're gonna do." "You don't get this cock until I know you know what to do with it."

And then he tells me again, "You're gonna cum on those fingers first."

I'm pleading with him, "Please." "Please give it to me, I'm ready baby, I'm ready for Daddy's cock."

"PLEEEASE."

His face close to mine, stares at me and shakes his head no.

My eyes begin to well up, clenching them shut. I'm not good enough. He won't give it to me. He won't even penetrate me fully with his finger, just barely pulsing me with the tip of one finger. Tears fall down the side of my face.

He whispers in my ear, "Are you gonna cum for me?"

I nod my head in obedience and take a deep breath in. Defeated. He continues to massage his pussy, fucking and pulsing his finger inside me. Tenderly, circling my clit with his thumb, coaxing it. My breath is heavy, in and out, succumbed with emotion. Now defeated. And finally, it goes, my little pussy releases on his fingers, contracting and releasing, contracting and releasing. Convulsions, gushing and releasing, cumming on his fingers, just like he told me to do. Draining and releasing all over his hand and his bed. I'm exposed, everything, gaping open, and now listless.

He slides his finger out, holds it in front of his face and breathes in, smelling my cum on his fingers. Wipes his mouth and tastes my cum off his fingers. He wraps me in his bed sheet, covers me up. Our eyes meet, he's stroking my head and my hair, lying beside me, wipes my damp face with his hands. He puts his arm around me, squeezing me in closer to him to rest my head across his chest, places a single kiss on my forehead.

And says to me, "That's my good girl."

I've passed.

He breaks me.

And now he owns me.