Sunday Confessional

Tease and Denial on the Rocks

I think it would be fun to pick a guy up, toy with him, tie him up, and leave him wanting. It’s a little crazy, a little risky, but it would be so decadently wicked…

I’d pick him up someplace where he’d be expecting a quick and easy lay; a bar or a club maybe, maybe a pool hall. Sure it’s a cliche, but that’s the whole point. He’s got to want it, he’s got to be looking for it and he’s got to know he’s going to get it.

I’ll let him buy me a drink – or maybe I’ll buy him one. Maybe more than one. We’ll be taking a cab to my place. If he tries anything funny, there’s a witness. After that we’re on my turf.

Before we leave the club I’m going to grind and dance him into submission. Twist my fingers in his hair, push my ass against his cock and look back over my shoulder to see his face: sweat and lowered eyelids and openmouthed lust under blue strobe lighting. Perfect. I’ll drop down low, slide down his tense body like it’s a pole. He’ll feel the back of my head brush his prick – I’ll make him think about what would happen if I turned around.

And then I will… hot pink lipstick outlining my lips as they make an O right in front of his cockhead. My tongue will flick out, wet my bottom lip, and I’ll slink up his body and do that thing where you quietly shout in his ear, “Let’s get another drink…”

Sure I look Irish, but he’s going to be looking at my height, and the unsteady way I’m walking in these knee-high black vinyl high heel boots, and think I started before I arrived. He’s going to think I’m a little bitty two-drink drunk. And when I play up the buzz, he’s going to believe it.

I’m going to take him home and have my way with him.

My way is vinyl locking cuffs and my lace thong panties for a gag. My way is letting him taste me in the only way I’ll allow him. Teasing him with my hands and legs and lips. My way is yanking out the gag, pushing his head down to my crotch and making him lick my pussy til I’ve had enough, then forcing the whiskey down his throat to kill the aftertaste. My way is fucking him up the ass when he’s drunk, making him suck my clit purple, and calling the cab to pick him up again… No, no head for you, darling; sorry, what did you think this was?

I just wanted to pick you up, get you drunk, and fuck your pretty little mouth.

Sorry.

He’s going to slump into the back of that cab with a hickey to explain, a stiff dick, and nothing to show for it – and he’s going to sit very carefully on Monday. What’s he going to do, say I slipped him a Mickey?

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned… and I’m just getting warmed up.

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