After looking at fancily dressed broads all night, even blowing a few off so I could get some sleep, this chick is like an exotic, dirty little treat. She isn’t dirty in the way you would be led to believe, though. She doesn’t seem to have a 1980s bush and a stank-ass odor that makes me want to vomit in my mouth just thinking about it. I mean, let’s face it: I have tasted my share of week-old fish in my day, if you know what I mean. The kind of stank that’s unbearable, especially since you know you have to finish the job with some fake chow action, seeing as how you already started.
Her? Her clothes are fucked up, her hair messy and shoved into one of those “I don’t give a fuck” hairdos that would normally not be to my liking. Her hair is brown and thick, and I just want to go all Captain Caveman on her, then drag her by that thick mess to the nearest rock, bend her over, and fuck the bun loose.
“You have breakfast yet?” I ask, pleading in my head for her to be as unruly as she appears in her damn bare feet on the gravel. Fuck, that would usually bug the hell out of me, but not now. I want to hear her say in a raspy Miley Cyrus voice, “Caldwell, I’m starving. Let’s just skip dinner and have me suck you off right here, right now.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” She snaps her fingers in my face. “Eyes up here, Slick.”
I take my time looking up from her tits. Why rush? I mean, you don’t go to the pet store and immediately say, “Yeah, I’ll take that one.” You kind of check out the kitty first.
“Hey, Slick, there isn’t a chance in hell I’m letting a guy like you try to wine and dine me. So, why not—”
I hold up a finger. “Shh…I was just thinking about dessert.”
“Is that so? What makes you think I’d let you?”
I finally look into her eyes to see her chewing on her lip. “?‘Let’ me? I wasn’t thinking about me, babe. I was thinking about the Caldwell cocktail I was gonna let you sample.”
She lets out an annoyed laugh. “Yeah, well, I was just thinking pretty boy must have been turned down by the socialites in there, so let me give you some advice. They look at you and see a guy who spends just as much time in front of the mirror as they do. They’re thinking, ‘Damn, he’s hot, but with a face like that, he probably isn’t a giver.’ So, while you were thinking about me sucking you off, I was thinking about how my * grinding on your face might just teach you a lesson about how a woman really only wants a man to be a fucking man.”
“I’m all man.”
“I bet.” She barks out a laugh.
“You’re chewing on your lip; your nipples are hard; your * is probably soaked…” She doesn’t stop me, so I keep going. “You wanna fuck me just as much as I want to fuck you.”
“I like to fuck, but again, I want the man between my legs to make me sure that taking off my clothes wasn’t a waste of time.”
“I’m afraid that, when I reach down there, I might find a set of balls.”
“Why don’t you come over here and check it out?” she dares.
It takes me all of ten seconds to have her pressed to the hood of my car. As soon as I reach between her legs, her hand is already on my cock.
Shit is going down.
Now.
Sweatpants remind me of high school, easy access, and I was right—she is soaked. My lips press against her as my finger slides into her hot little twat. She gasps for air, and I kiss her harder.
Her fucking lips are soft as plush little pillows, and that dirty-talking mouth tastes like fucking more. I want more.
My tongue pushes into her mouth, and fuck if I don’t taste heaven. She tastes good, smells good, feels real damn good, and I am hard as hell.
I shove my free hand under her head because suddenly I want to make sure I am not making it bang off the hood of the car. And, motherfucker, it’s not even about the car.
I need more. My mouth covers hers again, and my tongue plunges into that mouth again. I run it up and down her tongue, slower this time.
With a voice that rasps like hers, I would have thought she was a smoker, but there is no way in hell. Her mouth tastes like rainwater so clean that it came from heaven right to my mouth without ever touching the ground.
I lick the roof of her mouth, her gums, her teeth, like I want my tongue to be floss.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Fuck her mouth. I want to taste that *.
I tear away from her again, then run one hand down her back and pull the other one out of her panties. I suck on my finger and growl when I taste her juices—clean and sweet. As I lift her up, her eyes flutter open, and she looks like a deer in headlights, like she is just as awestruck as I am.
“You taste good.”
Her eyes cast down, away from mine, and I fear this moment will go away before I’m finished—before I’ve even begun.
I lift her by the ass, and my little wild card becomes like a rag doll cat. She goes almost limp in my arms as I walk toward her car and lift the hatch. I set her inside, then pull her sweats and panties down. She is bare except for the landing patch, and my tongue is about to become the airplane going down that runway.