“It’s been a long time” he’s telling me. Growling, pressing himself against me, pinning me to that hard rough brick, and tugging my coat away.
“But I knew you’d be back” He affirms, his hazel eyes filling with smoke, fire and desire.
“Cos you need this, don’t you?” He’s dominating me, subjugating me. Bringing me further under his control.
“I know you want this” His voice is firm and certain.
“You’re a greedy little…” And he pauses to read my eyes, his mind reaching inside me, reading me like I’m a book he’s writing or has written. He’s searching for the words to unlock all my resistance.
“Cock lover…” That one word, cock, now fills me with desire, I know how good he feels, moving inside me. I’ve never felt this ready this fast. And I never hear him finish another sentence.
His words just hang in the air, leaving me to fill in the blanks. But when he says cock, that one word just paws at my aching cunt.
I suddenly feel so hollow and needy, wanting him to fill me full, the memory of our secret union and the promise of more, just soaks me to the core.
With him, we always start like this: so fast, so hard and direct. He knows that’s why I come here. This is how I want him when I come here. Him talking to me, almost like I’m cheap or worthless, 343
both of us knowing full well I’m not, but he’s playing the hard Master, and I’m his tender soft Mistress. And we both know the lower he drags me down the higher up I’ll come.
And god, do I come.
He could choose any Mistress, but he chooses me. I worry about my age, and he says it’s the secret to my beauty. I worry I’ll never see him again, and he says in the next life I will bare his children.
Pulled from the door and pushed to the wall, there’s no chatting about the weather or casual offers of coffee or tea, not even a stiff drink. And the carnal urgency and ferocity of his wanting me floods my cunt.
I worry my excitement might start soaking through my skirt, shaming me by becoming visible, but I press myself into him anyway. I can’t believe how much I want him like this.
He’s instantly hard, grinding his erection against my hip, pressing my body further up against that rough brick wall; the rough scrape and scratch of those furnace fired clay bricks, rubbing hard friction against my shoulders, and my ass, as I ride up against him.
Sometimes he doesn’t even wait for my answer, but this last time he does. He wants something in lieu of the pleasure and punishment he’s about to provide.
“Say it. Come on; tell me you’re a dirty little fox, my cock hungry little minx! Tell me how bad you’ve been; tell me how much you want this.”