The Bikini

Among the things I need – and there are many – one is to fuck you, and another is a new bikini. I was about to hatch a plan to kill two birds (pun intended) with one stone.

One Friday, fortune smiled upon me and you agreed to meet me for lunch. It was one of those glorious Fridays in the summer where the powers that be reveal their selectively benevolent nature and dismiss you at 1:00.

We arranged to meet at the mall, because this would make my plan that much easier to set into motion. I’m sure you had no clue what was in store as we flirted over a leisurely lunch at Pizzeria Uno.

When lunch was finished, I casually mentioned needing your opinion on something, and you agreed to help. I steered you in the direction of the swimsuit store, delighting in the anticipation of the festivities to come.

Before we met I’d scoped it out; narrowed it down to one I thought flattered my figure, such as it is; and asked the saleswoman to hold it for me. It was purple, with two little triangles above and a high-cut bottom. I was hoping it would please you.

When we arrived and you saw where we were, you smiled. I noted with some surprise how different this was from the response I’d anticipated – the deer in the headlights look. You’d evolved!!

I made you wait outside the fitting room while I slipped off my bra and adjusted my thong, then donned the scant garment and beckoned you inside. When you walked in you locked the dressing room door, assessed the view with apparent appreciation and approached me slowly. You ran your hands up and down my body, causing my face to flush with excitement. [As much as I like to control these things, I can also really get into letting you call the shots. The uncertainty of what’s coming next adds to the intensity of the experience.]

I responded by throwing my arms around your neck and kissing you slowly. My tongue entered your mouth gently and made lazy swirls around its warmth as I moved closer to you and pressed my body against yours. I could feel that amazing steely cock straining against its boxer briefs and khakis, and wondered how long it would take for the first drop to become visible outside your pants. I also hoped I’d have the opportunity to lick the drop away before that could happen.

Being one of those people whose hands are like ice in these types of situations, I marveled at the warmth of yours, still busy caressing my body. At that moment, you broke our kiss to focus on my tits, whose nipples had hardened with excitement and anticipation. You pushed the material out of the way, took the right one in your hand and began to lick and suck the nipple, more gently than I expected. I responded with a low moan so as not to alert the help. My head fell back involuntarily, until you got a little rougher and I exclaimed, “Ow!”

“Oh come on,” you said, with mock annoyance. “That didn’t hurt.”

“It did so,” I countered as I pushed you backwards with my outstretched right index finger. I kept pushing until you fell right into the easy chair in the corner. Then I went straight for your pants. With some difficulty I was able to lower the zipper, and you helped by standing briefly and letting your pants drop. Rather than freeing you in the way you expected, I coaxed your dick and balls out of the hole and kept the briefs on. I dropped to my knees and grasped you firmly as I licked all around. I was surprised to find you neatly trimmed, as if you’d anticipated some x-rated potential to our lunch. [Note to self: be less predictable.] This elicited a low moan, proof of your pushover nature. I had barely begun.

As I continued working on you I could feel intense heat coming from my pussy, actually radiating outwards from my core. My increasing wetness would serve me well later when, I hoped, you would be moving in and out of me with dizzying speed.

Suddenly you pushed me gently away and switched places with me so I was in the chair and you were on your knees in front of me. You pushed aside the bikini bottoms and the thong to discover the aforementioned wetness. You thrust a finger in, then another and another, until I was writhing against your hand. I watched you remove your fingers and lick them, something I hadn’t seen very often. It was an incredible turn-on.

Even better, though, was when you inserted your tongue into my slit. It took all the concentration I could muster to maintain consciousness.

As it turned out, you were ready to kick it up a notch. You began licking my clit, and apparently you meant business. Your focus never wavered, not when my breathing got shallower, not when I announced, “I’m gonna come”, and certainly not when I exploded, stifling screams of ecstacy for fear of discovery. You knew the payoff was just minutes away, and you were more than ready.

Once I was recovered, I kissed you briefly before directing you back into the chair and resuming my position at your feet. This time I chose to free you from your boxer briefs to allow unfettered access.

Soon, the age-old dilemma came into play: when to forego the mouth in favor of the snatch? I was able to shorten the decision process with the realization that bare knees on the industrial-grade carpet was less than comfortable. I gently freed myself, aware that this might very well cause an uproar but prepared to deal with the consequences. I kissed you again, briefly, before mounting your vertical, rock-hard shaft, slowly as you please. I stayed still for a few seconds with you inside me, just a pause to appreciate the circumstances. Before I resumed motion I squeezed you with my pussy walls, and you almost gave us away.

You were delighted to be on the receiving end of this long overdue fucking. Your eyes sparkled as you watched me moving back and forth, your cock appearing and disappearing into my dripping pussy. Every now and then I reached behind me to stroke one of your balls with my fingernail. And much to my surprise, I started to feel my own orgasm welling up again. This was a first for me, and I was so glad to be experiencing it with and because of you.

After a while I guess you decided I needed a break, and that you were ready to do the work, because you gently switched our places again. Best of all, before you re-entered me you placed my feet on your shoulders. I was thrilled with the depth this position allowed, and I was ecstatic to feel your tip hit the end of the line. I also was relieved to find my orgasm still building despite the change of position.

“Is this how you like it,” you teased, “or should I go faster?” Well, that was like asking if I like cookies or brownies. Impossible to answer and, in such close proximity to another orgasm, quite irrelevant.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” I replied, afraid to sound too irritated for fear that you’d stop, just to drive me crazy. “You’re going to make me come.”

Sure enough, you had accomplished the impossible. I was actually about to go again, WHILE FUCKING. It was some kind of miracle. Unfortunately, I was unable to maintain any kind of composure as it happened, which predictably led to our discovery by one pissed off saleswoman. On the bright side, the throbbing of my pussy set you off, and you shot your liquid heat where it was needed the most. By the time she found her way into the dressing room, the bikini was soaked with our juices.

“I assume you’ll be wearing that out,” she said. Everyone’s a comedian…