Shopping For Sex
I give my business card out to strangers every day (and now I’m worried/excited to think that I’ve given one to you at some point), but handing it over without explanation was another matter entirely. Not that it wasn’t terribly exciting! The first step, however, was to find some stranger hot enough to entrust with my cute little card (as well as the rest of cute little me!). I had lots of errands to run all over the place today, and as I did I was more aware of other people than I’ve been in a long time. It made me excited to assess their bodies so closely, and then to assess my own body for its reactions to the assessments. There was a lot of assessing going on out there! And my nipples were tingling and taut with the excitement of it all (showing clearly through my dress, I’m sure, so that I felt nearly as naked as I did during your first test).
I had been excited from the moment I read your e-mail, of course, and particularly excited to think that yours might be the cock I feel stiffening against me in my orgy fantasy, but I was worried that I wouldn’t find anyone who pleased me enough to approach them for an exchange that I was already very nervous about. But once you start really looking for people to fuck, I realize, you tend to find them. Desire is in the details, just as you wrote, and as I forced myself to look closely at people, I began to see the hidden lines of bodies that were beautiful, for one reason or another, and I longed to see them naked, and alone, and to discover more. Once or twice a man caught me looking (nice package!), and then I was just dizzy with excitement. Just looking closely like that was a dare.
But I’m afraid that this time I failed your test, Mr. X. Somehow the men all seemed too difficult to me. Somehow they all seemed too headstrong, and I wanted someone with some softer edges who might understand the game and be willing to play with a smile. So I failed, Mr. X. Sort of….
Have I mentioned how fond I am of tits? Yes, I believe I have. And women’s bodies? I don’t know if there’s anything more beautiful to look at. See, for example, the history of art. I’m definitely not a lesbian (definitely?), and I don’t even think I’m bisexual, but tits are universal, sir, and I often fantasize about them (particularly in orgy settings). So I’ve often thought that I wouldn’t mind having a woman I could get naked with occasionally, and kiss – her soft lips and full tits. Also she’d lick my pussy with total expertise, nice and slow, taking her time, and I’d just lie back and enjoy it, coming multiple times. She’d sort of be on call. So tits attract me, and also legs (in heels), and curvy little asses. All of this was in the back in my mind as I searched the aisles of [a supermarket] looking for breakfast cereal and a man to imagine inside of me in order to give myself a screaming orgasm later that afternoon. Multitasking, I believe that’s called. I was looking everywhere, until finally I came around a corner and felt that slight glistening begin between the legs. But he was a she (a failure, yes, and I know you’ll be terribly disappointed).
Tall, short curly hair, a chiseled face (like an Indian’s), very tan, and lean, knife-like, with long sharp legs and a chest that was almost flat (strangely enough for me), except her tits were most definitely there, stacked tight and taut, with braless nipples showing through a thin and tight white t-shirt. My nipples perked up at the sight of hers, and the atmosphere started spinning. I knew I’d found my target. She looked strong and fearless and incredibly sexy in a pair of camouflage cargo pants (which aren’t typically my style at all). I imagined that she would know exactly what to do to me in bed. In fact, I knew she would.
I’ve got a terrible poker face. I tend to give it all away in an instant, but I did my best to seem nonchalant as I rolled my cart up close to hers, fumbling in my purse for one of those damn cards, which I had felt for a hundred times that day to make sure they were easily accessible (of course now they weren’t). I was obviously discombobulated, and I out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she was already watching me. I also noticed that her lips were incredibly full and very, very feminine, with dark purple lipstick like the color of candy you’d want to lick. My nervousness, and the excitement of the approaching moment, had made me completely wet. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I took my hand from my cart, turned to her with a big, bright smile, and held out a card. She looked down at my hand, and for a moment I thought she’d mistaken me for a pushy saleswoman (if only she’d known!). Then she looked up at me, her face a mixture of hardness, curiosity and amusement, and she took the card. “And?” she murmured, hardly parting her lips, but now with this devilish smile, but I just giggled (sorry if that wasn’t allowed, boss), grabbed my cart and pushed on as quickly as I could. My heart was absolutely racing!
God, I practically masturbated with my phone that afternoon! If it had rung, I think I would have instantly died of a heart attack, or come immediately in a death-defying orgasm. I had thrown the shopping bags on the kitchen counter and had managed to strip off my clothes by the time I got to couch in our sitting room. With one leg slung over the armrest, I wet a finger with my mouth and began to stroke my clitoris, fondling a breast as I did. I imagined that my fingers were her tongue, that she was licking me with a violent thirst as I ran my hands through her short curly hair, pulling at it, pulling her into me. Oh god! I wanted that hard, tanned body knifing across mine. I wanted her to be rough with me like some brutish man, and I wanted to suck her tits, to wrap my lips around her sharp nipples. And kissing those luscious purple lips, her tongue flitting in and out of my mouth, my hands feeling tentatively down her hard belly, over her hips, around to a muscular ass (also tanned in my mind), that was driving into me as if she had a cock. But what she really wanted was my pussy (the little slut!), and then she was back down between my legs, licking and sucking until I came with a scream and she looked up with her lips sensually parted and a commanding look in her eyes. She knew I was hers, and she knew she could have me any time.
My husband had been in his office when I got home, and I didn’t expect him to emerge anytime soon. But I don’t usually masturbate out in the open (usually in the bathroom, as I’ve told you before), and when he came out, probably after hearing my desperate, tit-drunk moans, he definitely got a surprise. Not that I really noticed. I was too busy imagining my new hard-edged friend with the magical tongue. “What’s gotten into you?” he drawled. “I want a woman to fuck me!” I cried as I frantically fingered myself. “I want to lick tits!” He smiled wryly, slowly moved to sit down beside me, put a hand softly on my thigh, and then he fucked me like a…well, pretty damned good for a man!
Waiting for a phone call,