Speakeasy

[Originally written on October 3rd 2020]

You pull up a stool next to mine and take a seat. The bartender is already pouring you a drink, and you take it in one hand as the other rests delicately atop my own. You turn to me and begin to speak, talking about everything and nothing as your voice wraps itself around my mind. The debauched atmosphere of the club still has my mind reeling – I mechanically sip at my drink as I listen to your words, my eyes still fixated firmly upon your crystal pendant, never quite able to look away. As I reach the end of my drink I hear your voice say “…don’t you think, sweetness?”.


With a great effort I tear my eyes from the pendant to look into your own, and it’s as if the effect is magnified, my vision locked completely onto your face, that same beautiful smile still raising the corners of your mouth. Nothing else seems to matter – the voices, the people, the very bar itself melts away, leaving only you. As I nod in agreement, your smile grows, and a devilish look flashes across your eyes before they return to the same hypnotic pools. You take my hand in yours and lead me away from the bar, my eyes still glued to you. We move towards a back room, and it’s only as the door locks behind me that I realise I have no idea what I just signed on for.


This minor detail quickly leaves me though, as you sit on the edge of a large double bed and look at me expectantly. Somehow seeing you fills me with relief, clearing my mind of any doubts or worries. I fall to my knees directly in front of you, and it’s as automatic as if I’d been doing it my whole life. Something about it feels correct, and natural, and as I continue to be lost in your eyes I realise that I am waiting for your command. This, too, just feels right – as though nothing were more important than being here, and obeying your orders. You smile that same, devilish, enchanting smile, and crook your finger at me, inviting me to inch closer to you. As I do, your legs spread slightly, revealing the faintest glimpse of what’s between them. It’s only once you grip the back of my head and gently lead it towards you that I realise how I will be spending the rest of the evening.


I slowly reach out with trembling fingers, running them up the soft skin of your legs. As you move to accommodate my head, I begin placing reverent kisses on the inside of your thighs. First on one side, near the knee, then the other, in the same position, and then back to the first, moving slowly – achingly slowly – down your thigh, ever closer to my ultimate goal. With your hand still holding the back of my head, I take my time, responding to your subtle feedback – a slightly tighter grip on me if I’m too fast, and then returning to softly running fingers through my hair when I’m at an agreeable speed.


Eventually, though, I run out of thigh, and with a final glance into your eyes, my worshipful tongue arrives at your altar. A low moan escapes me unconsciously as I taste the evidence of your pleasure, and hearing you echo it only renews my efforts. The triple grip of your hand and both thighs on my head keeps me firmly ensconced where I should be – your free hand coming down and taking my own into its grasp, interlacing our fingers as I lap and lick at your liquid lust, my own pleasure happily ignored in preference of your own. Delicately spelling words onto your so soft skin – B-L-I-S-S or S-U-B-M-I-T or Y-O-U-R-S – as they spring unbidden into my mind. It was only once I had spelled S-L-U-T in seven different alphabets that you signalled me to finally stop, your arousal clear on my face as I slowly withdrew myself. As we finally left that back room, the bar was emptied, sunlight filtering in as we climbed back upstairs. Not giving me the chance to clean myself up – you looked as beautiful as always, somehow – you kept my hand held in yours as we exited the club. I had no knowledge of where we were headed, only that as long as I was there with you it would be something wonderful.

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