A bad girl

I'm a bad girl. Just make sure you say that with a respectful growl when the time comes.

Your hands give you away, you know. You like to pretend that you aren't into anything particular, but I can tell that you are losing your mind. You take the glass of scotch, and a deep breath to keep yourself under control. I can feel the crackle of need in your fingers. You think I'm playing it cool through fear and you don't want to scare me away. You hope I'll give you what you need so badly, eventually. You don't know that I'm gonna do it now. Or at least do something so you'll know I'm the one who will.

I like letting you think that you are running this show. People need that. Maybe I'm fooling myself, but I'm pretty sure this game is mine anyway. You think I'm trying to catch a boyfriend, preferably a rich boyfriend, like all the others, that you'll have to play gentleman while you burn to ashes. You'll play gentleman alright, just not the way you're used to.

I'm burning, too. I think you can smell the heat when I take your arm and lead you into my office. Ice rattles in your glass as you try to compose your hands so they won't tell tales on you. You seem confused by the transition and more so when I show you to the big leather chair behind the desk. I sit in the dinky chair across from you and say nothing. I can feel fabric sliding against my nipples and hips, the straps of my shoes cutting into my feet, the heat in my bare pussy, the backs of my legs cold against the wood, my hair tickling and teasing. Already I am ready for you but you can't know that for sure. You want to leap across the desk but you sit there looking around the room, every now and then letting your eyes draw hot question marks in my flesh.

When you finally really see my collection you seem startled. I wonder if you are a little afraid of me and I like it. I still sit across from you, apparently unmoving, but I can tell that you notice the depth in my eyes and the way my lips seem to be waiting for you. You drink from your glass and it chatters as you put it down. You smooth your pants down your legs and try to control your eyes. Should I let you twist a while longer?

The moment hangs between us and I think I'm going to have to provoke you, but you finally can't take the nerves. You stand abruptly before meandering toward one of the tables, eyes roving around the room as if this were a museum. I consider briefly that you might turn and ask if I'm ready to go - we are supposed to be going to a show and it's getting late - but you let the moment pass as you pick up a curiosity of heavy glass.

"What do you use this for?" you say, as if the piece might truly be intended for keeping papers from blowing away or entertaining children on a rainy afternoon.

"What do you want me to use it for?"

You look at me intently, weighing the thing in your hand, weighing your chances of getting more than arm candy out of this evening. You say, "Can I be frank?" and I can't resist the old cheese: "Baby, you can be anybody you want here." Another moment drops like a stone into a well before you shake yourself and decide to take the chance.

"I want you to put it in your pussy and keep it there while we are out in public. Can you do that? I mean, can you keep it there? I mean, I'm really just talking out of my ass because you asked me what I want, I don't want to be..." but I stop you there with a smile.

"Bring it here." You look at the thing as if I must mean something else. I let my heels scrape across the floor as I open my legs a little. You watch me slowly drop my arms and take hold of the chair behind my back. I lick my lips and tilt my head back as the fire roars through me. I barely hear myself talking now, but you don't seem to notice that I'm melting. You somehow understand that you should put it where you want it to go.

You kneel before my chair like a schoolboy in trouble, but you hook your hands behind my knees and pull my ass to the edge of the chair as you spread me wide. You say, "Oh, you are so very bad. You should be careful you don't get into trouble."

Before I can say something smart, you slide your hand up my thigh and flip clothing out of the way. I'm surprised how easily you slip it inside me, more surprised when you taste me briefly before standing and pulling me up with you in one smooth motion. Your hands cup my ass and I can feel your dick straining against my belly as you ask me if I need something to keep it in there. I think you must mean panties, but I don't need anything and I can't seem to form words.

You ask me what it feels like, so I cock my leg up on your hip and slide my ass so that you can feel the slick heat in my pussy. I can tell you want to push your fingers into me but instead you clench my ass and spin me back toward the little chair. I grab the back of it to keep from stumbling. Your fingers twine through my hair and your teeth nip my neck before you push me over the chair. My bare ass is sticking up over the ladder back and I hold on to the seat with fire running up the backs of my legs.

You stand beside me, fingers screaming for flesh, and I wonder what you will do, what you need. You run your hand down the curve of my ass and lower still wet your fingers gently. I can hear you breathing heavy but you look like the picture of ease. Your other hand is tracing circles on the apple of my ass and I suspect you are thinking about it in stripes of red, or maybe that's just my jones. You say, "If there is a line I shouldn't cross, please point it out before I trip over it."

I say nothing as your hands keep circling. I wonder if you can feel the tremors under my skin, and wonder if we will actually go anywhere tonight. I wonder if I am giving you what you need or if I am just masturbating with a live prop. All the wondering makes me self-conscious and I start to say something but you move like a panther before I can form the words. With two fingers deep in my pussy, two in my ass and your thumb on my button, your other arm somehow supporting my body, you carry me to the big chair and dump us into it. I find myself face down across your lap with my ass in the air.

You haven't taken your hand from me. I realize that I'm fucking your fingers with abandon, I'm definitely losing control here, and I don't think I care. I can feel you rock hard under my belly when you reach across me for your drink. You take a sip and drops of icy water fall onto my back. You let the glass rest on my ass and drag cold, wet circles on my cheeks. Your fingers still play me. You are talking to me again and I understand that you are teasing me about what you might do to a girl as naughty as I am.

[What will you do to a girl as naughty as me? I'll be counting the moments until the next installment]