Countdown

He opens the door marked No Entry and pulls me inside, closing us in with a mop and a bucket. It’s dark. Our dates are back at the table reading the menu, talking about how farro is the new quinoa and Judge Jane Kelly’s confirmation to the SCOTUS is way live. This is 2017. The U.S. finally has a woman President and (thank bloody christ for me) men go to the loo together.

His hand grips the bulge in my jeans, and my bulge bulges back. Did I mention it’s dark in here?

Finally, he rasps at my ear, then punches 1-0-0-START on his phone. I reach for my belt. He grabs my wrists and pushes them aside saying, Let me. The words an innocuous bite at my lobe. My lungs speed.

00:56 He’s on his knees zipping, sliding my jeans, clutching my ass through cotton, yanking my y-fronts down, verbing my noun, my noun springs out. I grasp the mop handle for stability just in time before

00:49 his throat takes my every inch.

00:48 This is no stiff-lipped, tongue-lined cave. This is his mouth: warm with gentle teeth, teeming with my skin, my nerve endings (my mine me) like I’m all he’s ever needed. His tastebuds cradle my length and lap.

00:47:30 And lap.

00:47 And lap.

00:35 His fingers clench my glutes. Pulling, pushing, rubbing, kneading.

00:32 Kneading.

00:31:30 Kneading. And lapping. And bobbing. And taking. Until

00:31 fingertips linger over my balls.

00:24 The other hand squeezes my shaft: up and down locked in sync with his tastebud cradle rock. Rocking suction.

00:22 Still, the lingering over my balls.

00:19 My hands are in his hair. Our dates’ll notice over farro, mustn’t savage the eye candy. Fuck.

00:17 I lock my arms above my head and lean into his face.

00:16 Ease back.

00:15:30 Jab forward. His laugh is muffled. He likes it rough.

00:14 Voices outside the door. Women in line for the ladies’. His mouth and hands drive faster.

00:13 Siphoning.

00:12 Drawing.

00:11 Pulling.

00:10 Kneading.

00:09 Kneading. And lapping. And bobbing. And taking. Until

00:00:00

###

Photo by Craig Chew-Moulding  | Used under CC by-SA 2.0

This post was written for Wicked Wednesday, a site where writers share erotic stories (fiction and non) every week. The fun is hosted by the glorious Marie Rebelle of Rebel’s Notes, whose endeavors you can support at Patreon.

Read all the fabulous Wicked Wednesday “Countdown” entries here!