Fine Stems and the Couch Dancer

It's no imagination, Pam is definitely panting, now, and just when I'm certain her toes are gonna curl, Giselle slows to a crawl and then stops. She gives a bewildered, bothered, and bewitched Pam a kiss on the cheek and a whisper, stands up, and starts walking away. Pam's only reaction to this can be characterized by, "Whuh?"

I grin and help her up. "They're not allowed to give happy endings, dear. It's in the contract or something. Don't forget your glasses."

She's still stunned. I imagine I can smell girl on her. Certainly the aroma of body makeup is there. Maybe a more nether aroma, too.

Giselle blows me a kiss and waves goodbye to us with a grin, and I take a flustered Pam by the elbow (and, yeah, I'm totally leering at her legs as I do it) and help her out the door of the club and into the parking lot.

"I can't believe you did that to me!"

"What did I do?"

"Made me do that!"

"Made you? Hey, not responsible, remember?"

"Fully responsible!" she asserts, and she's melting into me and her tongue is in my mouth and I can taste the residual vodka and her lip gloss. Raspberry.

Game over. She's lost. Before she can think too hard about what she's done, and what's happening, and (God forbid) what's about to, I sink one hand into the hair on the back of her head and assert ownership of her skirted-ass with the other. She moans into my mouth as I squeeze her, and I hold myself back, barely, from gnawing on her ear... restricting myself to a mere nibble for now. My hand slides up her mini to the top of her thigh and I let my breath catch. She's smooth and warm and I want her now.

My trapped cock has made the front of my jeans solid and hot, and I know she must feel it against the front of the thin fabric of the dress. I'm grinding up against her in much the same way Giselle did: rhythmically, with just the right amount of delicious friction, and she is pushing backhardand accepting my tongue deep into her mouth. I don't want to come in my jeans, so I hope to drive her over the edge soon... and as luck would have it, she's very close and swiftly thrusts back with a breathy moan that almost makes me come anyway.

I drag her over to the car while she recovers her breath, open the back door, throw her in, and follow.

"Omigod..." she starts, and I know she wants to say something like, "That was so intense..." or, "I was so horny, thank you!" or even, "I can't believe I almost came from lezzing it up with a stripper", but I don't want to hear it right now. Right now, I just want to get my head underneath that skirt and taste what I've done. I ignore whatever she's trying to say, then, and lick my way up where Giselle was. The panties are sloppy and fragrant with her, and I dampen my cheeks on them before my hands reach up and yank them down to her knees. Oh, she smells good. Pure, good-girl slut.

Good enough to devour.

Her skirt keeps all the flavor, all the scent trapped around my face, and it makes me tongue her like an animal. Like she's got something I need to survive in her pussy, and I'm required to lap it. I'm obsessed, controlled, and engulfed in the cunt taste, cunt smell, and she's screaming something dirty and filthy at me that I'm sure she'll look back on with embarrassed horror in the morning.

Suddenly it's dark no longer under this skirt, as she pulls the hem up past my head. I get it, now... she wants to watch me lick her out. Needs to see what I'm doing to her. Needs to see that I love the taste of her—this isn't just about me getting her prepped to fuck me, this is about me being perverted as fuck and craving her whore pussy. I reach over and grab her hands, putting them in my hair as Giselle did not ten minutes ago, and she is fully aware of the intended parallel as she arches her back and comes deliciously all over my face.

Again I give her no chance to think, to come down from this high, to resist. I free my cock, not even bothering to take my jeans off. Shemustfeel me inside her now. I slide into her effortlessly. She's not virgin-tight, but I can tell she's not well-fucked. She takes me in and the intake of her breath is sharp.

I thrust for a minute or two to get her into it, then pull out completely (eliciting a sad moan) to strip off my pants.Ahhhhh... there.Free at last. I can feel the air on my cock and balls, and I push back into her without further ado.

"Oh, thank God!"

I fuck her for a while in this bastardization of the missionary position, but ultimately I want it different. I want her to have to participate beyond just coming... I want her to play an active role. I grab her by the shoulders, then twist so I'm sitting in the back seat. I put her on my lap, straddling me, riding me. I'm still in control, as my grip on her shoulders chooses the rhythm and the depth into which she takes me. But looking back, later, she will not be able to deny, not even to herself, that this is what she wants.

She's close, and I'm close, so it's time to make her acknowledge her own perversions. "God, your pussy feels so good. You're a dirty girl, Pam."

"Yeah, dirty girl."

"You almost got off from another girl stroking you. That's a fucking lesbian thing to do, isn't it?"

She's silent. Ha. That won't last. I lift my ass off the seat for that extra inch or so of crushed cervix. "Were you getting off, lesbo?"

"Unnnngh... nooo..."

"Liar. I saw you almost come when she pretended to eat you."

"Nnnnooo I wasn't... I just... she..."

"Admit it. You wanted her to tongue your cunt until you came."

"Oh, God... yes... yes I did. I wanted that slut to make me come on her face."

That's all I need to hear. I'm off in her, going nuts and smashing her shoulders against the back of the front seat in my uncontrolled and uncontrollable thrusting. She squeals in pain or ecstasy or maybe both, but I can tell she's coming, too, and her copious juices wash down onto my thighs.

I kiss her deeply and she kisses back. "Bad girl," I pant. "Bad."

"Your fault I'm bad," she responds, leaning back and slowly pulling off me.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe," I laugh, and then kiss her again. "But tell me you don't want to do this again tomorrow."

She is silent. And stays that way all the way to the hotel.

We get out and go to our separate rooms—mine on the second floor, hers on the fourth. As the elevator hits 2, I kiss her once more, and finger her through her skirt and panties once more, just to remind her who I am and what we did.

Then I lick my lips and leave the elevator car. "See you tomorrow, bad girl."

And leave her there bewildered and randy and smelling of sex as the doors shut.

Master of her fucking pussy. The only title I want with my women.