Explorations Commence.

 by horn pixy. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

“My tongue?” she said, sounding a little squeaky.
“Yes, Emily. Slip it in my mouth.”
There was a moment of silence, and then she asked, “why?”

“I

want to show you something delicious,” he said, and instead of the pity

he might have expected when he realized that she had never done this,

he only felt a primal, primitive male pride to be the one to teach her,

to show her.

He felt her warm little tongue pressing hesitatingly against his lips and opened them, sucking it hard inside his mouth.
“Oh my,” she gasped; or tried to, anyway; and he grinned a little in pure satisfaction.
“Good, huh?” he asked after he let go.
“Uhm,” she muttered.
“Want to do it again?”

“Uhm,”

she managed again. He slanted his mouth over hers and lapped at her

tongue again, this time drawing it into his mouth. He suckled, hard, and

she made a small, helpless little sound as both his hands started

kneading her ass, covered with the stiff material of new jeans. He

pressed her body harder against the door frame, desperate to have more

of her. The kiss became urgent, and he realized the exact moment she

stopped worrying about what to do and just let her body react, because

suddenly it was even more perfect; her lips moving with his, her tongue

meeting and thrusting against his, tasting and feeling and exploring.

The sounds they were generating were loud in the stillness of the

hallway; her moans, his groans, her sighs, his murmurs. Her accelerated

breathing, his satisfied growls when she tested and tried something new,

something that worked. They kept at it for a few more minutes; it might

have been hours for, all he knew; and he dragged one hand up and into

her hair.

“Ouch,” she gasped, and the fog lifted a little from

his brain, enough to clear his mind for a few seconds, enough to make

him realize that he was mauling her in the hallway.
“What?” he asked, and this time he was the one who felt dazed.
“Nothing,”

she said quickly. “Just my head, against the doorframe. Please,

continue with what you were doing. Don’t let me interrupt you…”

He

laughed a little and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed

tightly as he tried to get a grip over his hormones. His cock was

rock-hard by now, straining against the fly of his jeans. He wanted her

so badly, wanted to sink into the softness that was Emily, the

gentleness of her embrace. Wanted to teach her everything he knew about

lovemaking, demonstrating over and over until she knew exactly what was

the best way to fit tab B into slot A.

But she was new, and

innocent, and as appealing as the idea was, the small part of his mind

that was still capable of rational thought knew that taking her right

now, braced against the doorway was not only incredibly stupid (due to

the whole public aspect of the milieu) but also extremely selfish. She

deserved to be taken slowly, gently, preferably with somebody who would

take the time to show her everything she needed to know. And also, a bed

would be nice.

“Just give me a minute,” he said, taking deep breaths.
“No! No, no, no! Don’t take a minute; you’re going to change your mind if you do!”
He laughed again. “Not bloody likely,” he said. “Just; just hold on a bit, okay?”
“Okay,”

she murmured, circling her arms around his body and leaning against

him. Her soft hair tickled his chin as she tucked her head in the crook

of his neck. He pulled her inside the apartment and closed the door

behind them, almost stepping on her glasses in the process. He picked

them up and put them on a little table in the corner, and then turned to

look at her.

She was standing with her hands folded in front of her, head bent down so that he couldn’t see her face.
She

was radiating shyness, and uncertainty, and just a little bit

rejection. Tenderness swirled in him again and he stepped closer to her,

allowing himself one swift, hard kiss.
“Look at me,” he said. She lifted her head slowly and he smiled at her.
“You’re

beautiful,” he said. “don’t even think of arguing with me, not even in

your mind. Especially not in your mind. I won’t have anybody, least of

all you, think otherwise. I won’t put up with that. You are lovely, and I

want you so much it aches. But I want to do what’s right.”

“What would that be?” she whispered, and he cupped her neck, his thumb playing in the hollow of her throat.
“I don’t know,” he admitted ruefully. “Right now I just want to take you to bed, so my judgement is a little cloudy.”
“Do

it,” she said. “Please, Brandon. Take me to bed. I’m so tired of

wondering, of not knowing what sex is like. I want; I want to know, and I

want to learn.” She was quiet for a second. “I want to feel.”

He

searched her eyes. “Your first time should be with somebody special,”

he objected, knowing that he wouldn’t leave unless she asked him to.

Knowing exactly what would happen if he stayed. His beautiful, shy

little librarian was about to ask him to make love to her, and he was

powerless to deny her anything, least of all what she was offering. He

was human, and male, after all.

Emily looked at him with her

heart in his eyes. “You are special,’ she said after a few seconds. “You

make me feel wanted. Wanton. You make me want to take you to the

library and do something in the non-fiction section where nobody ever

goes.”

He laughed, a raw sound that was being torn from him as

his throat closed up. Had he really thought she would be unresponsive

and boring?
“You have to be sure,” he said. “I’m not doing this if you’re not sure.
“I was sure the first time I saw you. I didn’t know what to say except, ‘a glass of whiskey, please’.”
“I’ve

never seen a woman drink whiskey like you did before,’ he said with a

little smile. “You just sat there, sipping glass after glass of Jameson

without making a face, though I’m pretty sure you thought it was

disgusting.”

“I hated it,” she admitted.” But I didn’t know what else to order, and I was too shy to ask your advice.”
He

made a vow to himself to take her back to the bar one evening and let

her have a sip of every single drink he had in stock, until she found

something she likes. And then he would mix some cocktails, and teach her

about shaken and stirred, and she would never have to drink whiskey

alone in a bar again.

He kissed her then, a sweet kiss that

wasn’t about passion as much as compassion. He had feelings for her.

They were undeveloped yet, but he wasn't about to deny their existence

like some footloose bachelor, afraid of commitment. He didn’t know if it

was the right thing, making love to her without giving her the chance

to get to know him better, but he knew that he could no more let her go

right now than he could cut off his own arm. So he stroked her hair,

marveling at the silky feel as his lips taught her a few more secrets

and his tongue tasted her again. He slid the strands through his fingers

and pulled her head back to taste the skin on her neck.

She

tipped her head willingly, giving him better access. He teased her

earlobe, nibbling lightly and flicking it with his tongue before sucking

it into his mouth. The silver hoop she was wearing was in his way, so

he used his fingers to get rid of it. He tickled the sensitive area

behind her earlobe and tasted the dryness of perfume she had dabbed

there. It was bitter, and though it smelled like heaven, he wanted to

taste Emily, so he traced a line down her neck and across her

collarbone, following the line of an imaginary necklace with his tongue,

until the last of the perfume had rubbed off on her skin and all he

could taste was Emily. Sweet and unique and still a little bit scared.

He

explored the hollow between her collarbones, taking his time over it.

Her skin was like satin; smooth, silky, and so completely feminine. She

moaned, a small sound in the back of her throat as she leaned helplessly

against him, her hands around his head and her fingers tangled in his

hair. She pulled at his head and he went willingly back to her mouth, to

kiss and taste and take.
He was never going to get enough of her mouth, he though as he toyed with her lips and let her do the same to him.

She

stepped away for a second and crossed her arms in front of her, pulling

her sweater over her head in one smooth move. Brandon felt his breath

catch in her throat when she stood in front of him in only her thin

white chemise-like top and a lacy white bra that pushed her boobs

together in the most perfect way imaginable. He stopped her hands when

she wanted to take the top off and slid his hands over her body

reverently. She was so warm, but despite the heat in the room her

nipples were hard, beaded little nubs, straining against the honeyed

fabric of her thin top.

He pulled one strap over her shoulder and

tasted the skin he unveiled before reaching down and getting rid of the

blasted thing completely. And then his hands were in the skin of her

softly rounded, perfectly proportioned hips, and her skin was softer and

smoother than the silk of the top that had fluttered to the ground and

was now lying there, like a pool of sex, on the floor. Brandon looked

her in the eyes, and she gazed back unflinchingly, despite the blush

that stained her cheeks a delicious shade of pink. Her tits were

spilling a little over the lace edge of her bra, something that the

designer had undoubtedly taken great pains to accomplish. It was like...

froth, he decided as he traced the edge of the material. Or the white

foam on top of a wave as it rolled to shore.

He reached behind

her, holding her gaze as he undid the clasp of her bra, the movement

bringing their bodies together. She made a small sound when he stepped

back deliberately and let the bra join the other clothes on the floor.

“You

are so lovely,” he said, gazing at her body. She was so completely

female, so gloriously, radiantly beautiful, and he couldn’t believe she

was standing there, allowing him to desecrate her innocence. He cupped

one of her tits, enjoying the way it spilled over his palm just a

little. The tip was pale pink, like a very young rose just ready to bud

open. He weighed a tit in each hand and was fascinated by the softness

and fullness. His thumbs skated over the tips until they were even

harder. He wanted to devour her, but this first time was not for him. It

was for her, to feel and learn, and experience. To understand, to know,

and to enjoy.

“Oh,” she gasped when he bent down and took one

nipple into his mouth. Just for a second did he allow himself to be

selfish and suckle on it, but then he pulled back and pressed a kiss

right in the middle of her cleavage. She moaned a little and moved

restlessly, but he didn’t relent. He kissed all over her tit, spiraling

teasingly toward the nipple, knowing it would drive her crazy. He rubbed

his cheek over the sensitive nub, abrading it lightly with his

stubble-roughened skin and laving it unexpectedly with his tongue. He

nipped lightly with his teeth, and she moaned again, slightly louder

this time as he took his time nibbling it.

“Do what you did again,” she begged him breathlessly.
“And what was that?” he asked, teasing her by drawing his tongue round her nipple without touching it.
“What you did before,” she said incoherently.
“This?” he asked, licking over it once with his tongue flat.
“No,” she said, her head thrown back and her eyes closed.
“This, then?” he wanted to know, flicking it quickly.
“No! you know what I mean!”
He

took pity on her. “Is this what you want?” he asked, drawing her into

his mouth and suckling hard and sure, playing with his tongue around the

tip as he did so.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned; a long, drawn out sound that grabbed at his control.

He

picked the pace up after that, forgoing the torture on her other tit

and going straight for the good part, sucking the nipple relentlessly

until she let go of his hair and put her hands behind her own head,

increasing both her vulnerability and her pleasure as she arched her

body into his hands and mouth.

She felt something hit the back of

her knees and opened her eyes, surprised to find that he had carried

her into her bedroom without her noticing it. She was lost in sensations

as his mouth travelled across her skin, insistently licking and

nibbling, stopping every now and then to explore some new place he

wanted to get to know intimately.

She heard him unzipping her pants and lifted her body instinctively to help him get rid of it.
“Brandon,”

she sighed when she was laying naked except for her panties; pretty

white lace that matched the bra she had been wearing; on her bed, and

Brandon was kneeling at the feet of the bed, trying to get rid of her

shoes so he could undress her completely.
“Yeah?” His voice was strained with the effort of holding back his passion.
“Come

up here for a second,” she whispered. He got rid of her shoe and when

he had pulled off her jeans he leaned over her, bracing himself on one

knee and both arms immediately.

“Everything okay?” he asked

gently, his face showing no sign of the storm raging inside him. He

wanted to rush, wanted to hurry, wanted to burry himself in her body,

but he was determined not to. This was for her. For Emily. He would have

time later to show her unbridled passion. But right now he wanted her

to have the most perfect first time any girl has ever had, anywhere.
“It’s perfect,” she smiled up at him, her hair flaring out over her pillows.
“This is a lot better than the last time I undressed you,” he said, grinning.
“What last time?”
“Well,

you were fairly drunk, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” he

said, tracing a pattern on her tit with his finger; lazy circles and

shapes that made her arch a little. “I only took off your coat and your

shoes,” he added. “Like I said. This is much better.”

She laughed a little. “I’m still sorry you spent the night on the couch.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re going to need to get a bigger couch if I’m going to spend the night again.”
She

licked over her lips, a small gesture he recognized by now as a sign of

nerves, so he waited for her to speak, trying to ignore the throbbing

in his cock.
“Why don’t you just use the bed next time?” she asked

tentatively. “If you want there to be a next time, that is. I don’t want

you to feel I expect anything, or that I presume this, right here,

right now, that it means I…”
He cut her off. “What are you talking

about, woman?” he asked, but he thought he knew, and he didn’t like the

direction of her thoughts.

“I don’t want you to think I expect

the fact that you’re making love to me means I will expect more than

just that,” she said carefully. “I’m not naïve enough to think this

means happy-ever-after.”
“Okay,” he said. “With that cleared up, can we go back to the love-making?”
“By

all means,’ she said. He kissed her then, letting her taste a bit of

his anger because, damn her, had the thought ever crossed her mind that

he might want more? That once might not be enough for him?

She

sank back into the fluffy duvet, her arms around him pulling him down

with her. She pressed her tit against his upper body. He moaned at the

feel of her naked body against his clothed one, especially when she

rubbed herself against him.
“You’re overdressed,” she said and he

gave a bark of laughter, hurrying to remedy just that. He was out of his

shirt in record time, and she leaned up to watch as he struggled a

little with his jeans. Getting it past his raging hard-on was a delicate

operation, but he managed not to injure himself.

“Let me,” she said when the jean was around his ankles and he started on his black boxer briefs.
She scooted closer to him, dressed only in her lacy white panties, the scent of her arousal wafting through the air.
She

was very careful when she slid one hand into the waistband and pulled

it away from his body and down. It kept getting stuck on his cock, so

she used her other hand to hold his cock out of the way. They both

gasped when her fingers touched him. Finally the boxers was around his

ankles, so he kicked it and the jeans off and out of the way.

She stared at his cock for a few seconds, her hand hovering as if she wanted to touch it.
“’Can

I …” she indicated and he nodded, his throat dry. She touched one

finger to his shaft, running it up and down his thick length.
“It’s so hard,” she said, marveling. “and at the same time, it’s so soft. Why is that?”
He moaned something in response as she made a fist around him, testing the thickness and pressing lightly.
“Harder,” he gasped. She did just that, and he groaned. Emily yanked her hand away.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry! I’ve never, you know, seen one. In real life. Tell me what to do.”

“Later,”

he gasped and pressed her down on the bed, kissing her senseless as he

roamed over her body with one hand. “I’ll let you do whatever you want

later. But now I want to show you; do you trust me?”
She blinked up at him.
“Yes,”

she said, and the simple word tore through his last resistance. He

kissed her with all the passion he’d been holding back, letting her know

how much he wanted this, wanted her as he slid one hand down and into

her panties.

“You’re shaved,” he said, surprised.
“When I was

in my early twenties, I went for permanent hair removal,” she said.

“Each time I tried shaving, I wound up cutting myself, so I just

decided, screw that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said as he

stroked his finger over her hairless mound, testing the softness of her

skin before dipping lower.
And then he groaned as his finger was instantly coated in wetness. She was soaking.

She

moaned at the strangeness of having somebody else’s finger inside her.

He explored the lips, the petals, her clit, before dipping his fingertip

inside her and dabbling a little while he kissed her again. She opened

her legs wider instinctively, unaware of the eroticism of the movement.

He rushed a little as he pulled her panties off and threw them over his

shoulder. He knelt between her legs, spreading her knees further as he

wedged his shoulders between her thighs.

“Emily, may I go down on you?” he asked formally. Just to be sure.
“You mean; you want to; Yes, all right. You don’t have to, though.”
“It’s not ‘have to’ as much as ‘want to’,” he said. “I want to taste you.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,’ she said, still a little shy.

He

used the fingers of one hand to spread her lips and the middle finger

of his other hand to dibble inside her again, coating his finger in her

juice and spreading it around her cunt. She wriggled a little and gave a

small moan. Brandon knew he wasn't going to last a hell of a lot

longer, and he needed to get her off so he could get off. So he honed in

on her clit with his finger, rubbing it fast and light, and then hard,

and then in tight little circles, trying to find out what she liked

best.

Emily closed her eyes and fisted her hands in the duvet as

Brandon’s finger did things to her nobody else has ever done. She gave a

gasp when he hit just the right spot, and he must have noticed, because

he focused on it then, rubbing and tapping at it. A strange need was

building inside her. She knew what orgasms feel like; and it was nothing

like this. This was an urgency she couldn’t stop, a tidal wave rising

from every nerve-end in her body.

“Brandon,” she gasped, clawing

at his back to get him to stop. There was something wrong with her; this

wasn't normal. But he didn’t seem to realize her urgency, because then,

oh mercy, his mouth was on her pussy, and he was sucking first the one

lip and then the other into his mouth before getting to her clit. He

moaned a little and muttered something about how good she tasted, but

Emily was still fighting the feelings building up inside her and didn’t

respond beyond little mewling sounds as she tried to get away from the

sensations the way an inexperienced swimmer tries to escape an enormous

wave. Brandon growled and flicked his tongue over her clit for a second,

before rubbing it hard with his tongue. He nibbled lightly and drew it

into his mouth, suckling like he did on her nipple.

“Let go,” he whispered against her, his breath warm on her wet skin. “Stop fighting it and let go, Emily.”
She

cried out loudly, her back bowing and her hips thrusting as she rode

his face, her hands drawing his head closer. The orgasm broke over her; a

tidal wave that wreaked havoc with her nervous system and set every

nerve ending on fire. It just lasted and lasted, one wave after another

cresting through her body as she came, again and again and again.

Brandon

growled as he lapped at her, and she realized dimly that he was licking

up her juices. His hands were on her hips, holding her down as she

bucked.
She floated back and was limp while he gave her a few seconds

to adjust. She couldn’t open her eyes, could barely breath, but she

welcomed the feeling of his warm body sinking down on hers. It was

unfamiliar, the weight of somebody else on top of her, but she loved the

feeling and even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t have pushed him

off. Her body still twitched every few seconds from the strength of her

orgasm.
He settled between her legs and she could feel the hard length of his cock against her.
“Condom,” she managed, but he kissed her on the lips. Shoe could still taste herself on his lips and it was surprisingly erotic.

“Taken care of,” he said, his voice strained. “Are you ready, honey?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I

don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “And since you no longer have a

hymen, it shouldn’t be too painful. But it will still feel strange. I’ll

go as slowly as I can, but I’m not going to last very long.”
“I’m not scared,” she said softly. “Because it’s you, and it’s now, and it’s perfect.”

He

positioned himself with one hand, first sliding his hard manhood around

through her lips, coating himself and the rubber with slickness. His

head pressed at her entrance and she opened her legs, lifting her knees.

He held there for a little before he pushed in deeper. Just a little

bit, giving her time to adjust. He slid in, and it was surprisingly

easy, though her body tried to reject his advance at first. Then he

pushed a little bit more, a little bit harder, and he slid home.

“Oh,

my,” she gasped as he held perfectly still inside her. She could feel

the struggle between his mind and his body as he strained to hold

himself from moving.
“Are you all right?”
She couldn’t speak, so

she just nodded her head. She was so full; he was so much bigger than

her vibrator, so much more effective, for that matter. It was a strange

feeling, having something that big inside her. But the more her body

relaxed around him, the better it got.
“How does it feel to no longer

be a virgin?” he whispered hoarsely against the curve of her neck. She

still couldn’t find her voice, so she just smiled.

Brandon seemed

to understand, because he pressed his lips against her and moved his

hips, shifting back just a little before surging back again. She

swallowed away the tightness in her throat that always indicated tears

and took deep breaths while he moved slowly inside her, gradually

picking up the pace. His breathing was hard and labored when he slid in

and out with measured strokes.

“So tight,’ he moaned. “So wet. “So perfect…”
“Can

you; go a little faster?” Emily asked hesitantly. She was no longer

sore, just full, and she wanted something, anything, to fill the sudden,

unexpected emptiness that seemed to have come from nowhere and settled

between her legs.
“No problem,” he said, moving a bit more forceful, his hips straining to get closed to hers.
She

crossed her legs around his waist and her arms around his body as he

kissed her neck. The sound of their breathing filled the room, followed

by the wet sounds that came with sex, and the slaps of their bodies

banging against each other.

Her awkward attempts at thrusting

back had him clenching his teeth as he slipped in and out of her slick,

hot core. She was so damn wet, so damn tight, and he wanted to come so

badly. But he wasn't ready to stop yet, not with Emily in his arms,

under him and around him, making sounds that drove him crazy.

He

started thrusting faster and wilder, feeling her inner muscles clench

his cock as he pumped into her. He lifted himself on his knees and

pulled her hips towards his bodies, holding her up with his hands cupped

under her ass. The new position had her body bowing backwards as he

thrust in deeper and harder. She gasped with every stroke as the tip of

his cock went in deeper than before. Her hands cupped her tits and she

rubbed and pinched her nipples.

“Oh, yes,” he moaned. “Fuck, that’s hot. Don’t stop!”
“More,” she gasped when he went even faster. “I need more. Please, Brandon, I want; I need…”
“Tell me,” he said, hissing through his teeth for breath. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,”

she said, and his balls slapped against her with each thrust. “Just

you, taking me; Oh, oh, yes! Right there, please, again!”
He complied, rubbing her clit with one finger as the other hand held her lower body up for him to use.
“I’m going to cum,” she said. “Please; oh, yes, yes, Brandon!”

She

threw back her head as she came again and even through the condom,

Brandon could feel the fresh gushes of nectar. The walls of her cunt was

pulsing and pulsating, tugging him deep and hard, milking him and

tugging at his cock like a slick, wet velvety fist. It was the hot

liquid tugs, the expression of bliss on her face and her triumphant

scream that made him lose control. He trembled as he lunged inside, as

deep as he could go, one last time. He felt that too-familiar feeling as

his balls drew up tight against his body, as the delicious orgasm hit

him, seeming to come both from outside and within his body. He held

himself deep and ground down on her as he came hard, spurt after spurt

filling up the rubber, so much so that he was almost afraid it would

overflow. But he was helpless to do anything but keep inside her tight

sheath as the tremors in them both subsided.

After a few minutes,

his heartbeat had returned to only three times as fast as usual, and he

flopped down on the bed next to her. He pulled of the condom and

cleaned up his cock with a tissue from the box on her bedside table. She

was still breathing fast, and he pulled her into his arms, entwining

their legs as they came down from whatever cloud they had been on.

“I have this fantasy,” she said after being quiet for so long that he’d thought she had fallen asleep.
“Sure thing, honey,” he muttered. “Just gimme a few minutes and I’ll be good to go again.”
“Not right now, you dolt,” she said, snuggling in deeper to belie her words. “Later. I have this fantasy. Of sex. In a bar.”
He opened one eye and looked at her. “Really?”
“Oh,

yes,” she said, putting her arm around his chest and rubbing her leg

soothingly against his. “I’ve always had a thing for hot bartenders.”
“Well,

well,” he said, keeping the inevitable drowsiness at bay so they could

enjoy the post-coital chat a little longer. “And to think I’ve always

had a secret librarian fantasy.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes struggling to focus on his without her glasses, but then she smiled. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve always had a thing for hot women telling me I’m not allowed to talk.”
She giggled. “Then stop talking right now,” she commanded.

He grinned.

This was going to be so much fun.

Back to the tavern

Somebody

had paid for a Carrie Underwood song on the jukebox in the back corner,

causing a few girls in cowboy hats at the nearest booth to scream

‘who!’ and shoot their fists into the air, signaling their pleasure and

desire for another round of shots. Some of the men watched them with

drunken grins, appreciating the slutty cowgirl getups and clear

willingness to go to bed, a bathroom stall or the backseat of any random

guy’s car.

The bar was full; nothing like the evening before a

national holiday to get drunk; and the staff had their hands full,

trying to deliver the right drinks to the right table. At the bar

Brandon was busy mixing fruity drinks for what was clearly a group of

sorority girls hell-bent on going wild. As Carrie beat up her

boyfriend’s pretty little souped-up four-wheel-drive, he added the

requisite cocktail umbrellas his nieces always wanted when they played

with their Barbies.
Who said girls ever grew up?

One of the

waiters whisked the tray away and left him to deal with more hard-core

drinkers - beer, beer, rum and coke, beer, some shots of tequila, beer…
It

was one of those moments where everything seemed to fall in place; the

music ended and there was no new song yet, so a silence settled over the

bar for a heartbeat, just as the door opened, letting in a rush of wind

and a few lost raindrops. The girl stepped inside, clearly enjoying the

spotlight of the moment as every male eye in the bar was fixed on her.

She looked around leisurely as she started to work on the buttons of her

black coat, undoing each one slowly and with a knowing little smile,

making it look like a very public striptease. She moved her shoulders

sensually to let the coat slide from her shoulders, reminding Brandon of

a girl in a silky nightgown, seducing her boyfriend in the bedroom. Her

gaze lingered on Brandon for a few seconds while the attendant at the

coatrack took her coat and handed her a ticket.
Brandon felt the heat

of her eyes burn through his body, and swallowed a little

uncomfortably. The girl was hotter than any chili he had ever tasted and

he knew his girlfriend would not approve of the fantasies running

through his mind at that second.
The newcomer made her way over to

the bar, ignoring the men who shifted their bodies to brush up against

her as she slid past them on black fuck-me-senseless heels. The

elevation of the shoes was doing the most interesting things to her

legs, making them seem as if they just went on forever. Her dress; if

you could call that excuse for an outfit a dress; was a lace and leather

orgasm waiting to happen, held together by silky strings Brandon could

imagine undoing with his teeth. It ended just south of respectable, and

dipped so low in the front, a good jiggle would probably shake the

precarious hold it had on her boobs and dislodge one of them.
Brandon wanted to jiggle her.

And

it wasn’t just her clothes. She had a face and the body to match his

every wet dream. Silky, dark brown curls brushing down her back, blue

eyes that portrayed a vulnerability completely at odds with her

sin-on-heels outfit. Her mouth was full and plump and looked like a

vodka-soaked cherry that needed to be licked and sucked and nibbled on.

She had painted it wine-red and it glimmered wetly in the low lighting,

begging to be kissed. Brandon stared down the college boy who worked

behind the bar part-time as the kid hurried to serve her.
“What can I

get you?” he asked as she slipped one hip onto the high barstool,

crossing her legs and letting one of the strappy heels dangle of her

foot. Her tongue shot out and tasted the edge of her upper lip. His eyes

followed the movement, almost hypnotized by the small pink movement,

reminding him of another pink little female nub he liked to suck on.

“What do you have that’s good?” she asked, her fingers touching the edge of the bodice of her dress seductively.
“How about a martini?” he asked, his eyes trying their best to untie that string that held together her dress at the front.
“No,” she said, simply.
“Sex on the beach?”
She lifted one sexy eyebrow. “We’re a little far from the beach, don’t you think?”
“A screaming orgasm, then,” he said, getting very obvious in this game of seduction they were playing.
She leaned forward, getting perilously close to showing him her nipples.
“I’ll have one of those,” she said, “and take an I O U.”
“First one’s on the house,’ he said huskily, “but you can open a tab for those I O Use.”
She smiled, a cat-in-the-birdhouse smile that played havoc on his hormones.
He

compared her to his girlfriend as he turned to start mixing the drink

and felt a stab of shame and guilt. Emily was a librarian; a mousey girl

with dowdy glasses and a sweet personality. This vixen behind the bar

was his every fantasy come to life. And he was going to screw her before

he went home to the girl he planned to ask to marry him.
One last

fling, he told himself as he added the Bailey’s to the vodka over the

crushed ice. He opened a new bottle of Kahlua and added it, stirring the

glass before setting it down in front of her. One last wild thing

before I settle down, become a respectable white-picket-fence husband,

and start mowing the lawn on Saturdays.
The thought was almost

depressing, but he knew it was time to move on from bachelor life and

Emily was the perfect girl to marry. He even loved her, which made the

whole deal seem worthwhile.

To be continued, by horn pixy.