The Bank

This is one of many stories I have written about a girl and her aunt's husband, Phil.

You have come to the city to visit. My family's out of town and I don't have a car, so I call over to the house to ask for a ride home from work. I had told you to be there at 5:30, when we close, but I had some odd jobs to do b/c the other girl had to leave early, so when you arrived I was alone.

You walked into the bank, surprised at the size of it -- after all, it's just a small city bank. You saw me working and I had not heard you come in, so you tiptoed through the lobby and quietly opened the teller door to surprise me. However, when you got behind the counter, I was gone. You looked around, confused as to where I could have gone in such a short time. That's when you felt the blindfold go around your eyes.

"Wha...!" you cried out as the darkness took your vision. Then I grabbed your shoulders and pushed you from behind onto your knees, my mouth silent though hands weren't. Your hands came up to grab me, but I held them at the wrists and pressed them to your sides.

"Don't even fucking think about it, you fucking bastard," you heard me say. You stopped fighting and your hands relaxed at your sides. You heard a rustle, then the slow aural burn of a zipper sliding slowly down. You knew I was in front of you, not just from the sound but because I was so close you could feel your hot breath bouncing off my body and back at you. You tried to speak, but I grabbed your hair and tilted your head back, as if to look at look at me.

"Shut the fuck up," you heard me say, my voice low and breathy with want and excitement. You tried to shake your head in suppliance, but my hand still clutched your hair. It went through your mind that we were inside a bank, with cameras and the possibility of someone coming in at any time. Your cock, already wakened by the events preceding, rose tautly to attention, and you emitted a low growl at the sudden rush of blood.

There was another series of rustles, then the distict smell of cunt in your nostrils. You leaned forward slightly, finding that your nose fit securely into my crack, and that I had somehow propped up one of my legs so that they were well spread.

You felt me grab your head and press it into my dripping pussy. "Eat me, bitch," you heard me say. In no position and having no want to argue, you slipped your tongue into my slit, finding with ease what so many before you could not find at all. I remembered briefly our encounters before -- somehow you had always known exactly what I needed, exactly how to touch me or how I had to be handled. I knew, however, that because of your marriage to my aunt, you were lost to me, and for a brief moment I was consumed with sadness, despite your roving tongue and magic lips. I opened my teary eyes and looked before me, feeling again the heat of my passion, pussy lips again filling with blood, erasing all my nostalgia. My eyes dried and I was in the now again.

I forced your head into me, commanding, "Help with your fingers." You oblidged, as every slave does, and I began to feel myself sliding away, into the heat and passion of my orgasm.

You felt me tighten and sway, and reached to my waist to help steady me. You could now confirm that my nudity was entire, and the thought of my breasts puckering as you tongue fucked me sent you into a heady heat. You felt me arch into your enveloped fingers and you pressed further accordingly. You felt my pelvis press into you harder, the last time, then you tasted my sweet and salty release on your lips and down your throat.

Suddenly, I moved away from you, your fingers left suddenly cold without my womanhood surrounding them. You bent your head to taste them, licking every drop of me off of them.

I watched you with a mixture of excitement and astonishment -- I had never before met a man who really loved the taste of me. It was one of the most erotic things I had ever watched.

I jerked your blindfold off, watching you blink at the sudden light, then look at my body with the eye of a predator. Suddenly, my confidence left me, and I was afraid. I turned to find my clothes, but you were on me in a second. You threw me down onto the floor and kissed me so deeply I thought I'd felt the heat in it reach my heart, all the while throwing your clothes off in seconds. You turned your attention to my breasts, biting them unmercifully -- the way I liked it. Now I couldn't stand it any longer. I needed you.

"Fuck, Phil, get inside me!" You did. There was no friction -- I was so drenched with cum and spit that you slipped inside without incident. As I felt your fullness inside me, I suddenly felt my cunt pulsate around me. "PHIL!" I screamed as I tumbled into ecstasy. But you didn't stay still as I came; on the contrary, you began moving, though you hesitated at first, surprised by my easy orgasm. As I felt you move, I continued to cum, and I realized that you were pounding directly into my G-spot. No one had ever found it so easily with their cock. I was shocked into tears, begging you with my body to continue despite the wetness dripping down my cheeks. My hands searched over the planes of your back as ass, squeezing my need into the folds of your body. I stretched my neck up to kiss you and you came, our bodies connected in two places. Feeling your hot sperm spill inside me was the end. I came so hard that as I arched my back you had to plant your hands on either side of me as I lifted you up. My scream was otherworldly, communicating my release and my need of you. My fingernails drew blood, my hips drove into your legs, I found my release with you inside me, your arms around me tightly.

Then I lay panting, still clinging to you and all the feelings that had been through my head. You knew me, my body, like no one else I had ever been with. As my heartbeat slowed physically, I knew it never would emotionally. Instead of speaking, though, I just held you tighter.