She meets me at the hotel bar. I ask her to wear a short cotton skirt and thigh-highs, heels, and a tight top. As always, she complies with my request.
We kiss gently hello on the cheeks. I pull her toward me by her waist as we kiss. She strains to reach me, standing on tip-toes.
We sit next to one another. I order her a vodka martini, extra dirty. We catch up – how’s she been, how’ve I been, what’s new. Neither of us is where we want to be.
I ask her if she’d mind walking out before me. I want to watch her ass.
She unfolds herself from the booth, and heads out the door. I watch as her ass sways, delicately, from side to side. No doubt – hers is, by far, the best ass in the bar.
I walk out behind her. She waits, the cab door open. I slide in, and she follows. I instruct our driver, and he heads off.
There are two ways for us to go, here, and we both know it: there’s the mad dash, the we-can’t-wait-to-get-our-hands-on/in-each-other sprint. And there’s the more delicate, gentle path. That we both prefer.
She swings her knees toward me, separating them just a little. I can see that she’s wearing light blue cotton panties. Not the black ones I had requested. I’ll have to remember that little bit of defiance.
She reaches down, starts to rub herself gently. I’m mesmerized.
Her hand slides into her panties, slides back out, glistening. She licks it, elaborately, seductively.
It slides back, and her legs glide wider apart.
My hand, involuntarily, has drifted down toward my cock. Through my suit pants I stroke slowly, intently, my eyes never leaving hers. She slumps down.
The cabbie asks for directions. I answer, annoyed.
She smiles, now sliding the top of her panties down a bit to give me a peek at what she’s doing. Her middle finger is sliding up and down her clit, quickly, quicker than I would have thought.
She slides further down on the seat. She’s nearly horizontal, or at least, the top half of her body is – the bottom half is virtually in my face now. Her head is against the door.
Out of nowhere (did she have it in her hand? in her purse?) comes a tiny vibrator, a little silver bullet. It’s quiet, and small, but there’s no question that her experience has just changed. The look on her face – earlier, her eyes were locked on mine – is now almost vacant. Her eyes roll back, her legs start twitching, little moans are erupting, lost in the sound of the trucks next to us.
Are people watching? I don’t know, I don’t care. She doesn’t know. She may well care – it may be that the people watching only make it better.
In any case, the vibrator is joined by her finger again, now plunging deep into her cunt. As she rises to meet her own wrist, she presses the vibrator against her clit, hard. The sound coming out of her throat is unfamiliar, hardly even human. It’s a growl, a mounting feral sound. Her legs start to twitch, her hips start to buck, her eyes aren’t rolled back now – they’re closed. Her head is extended far back, the expanse of her neck crying out for my hand, but it’s out of reach.
As she gushes all over the back of the cab, drenching the seat in her cum, I continue stroking my cock, slowly.
“That was gorgeous, babe,” I say.
And it was.