Literotic asexstories – The Coffee Date by Silk_Purse,Silk_Purse
The Coffee Date
Shifting the telescope to ground level, he aligned his sightline onto the shadowy, spandex-sheathed V between her legs; where, outside Starbucks on the concrete plaza below she was startled by a mysterious prickle of sexual desire. Magenta first-date lips curled as flirty creases formed around her eyes. Were her Lululemons too tight?
Her I-phone flashed his Plenty of Fish profile photo for an audio-call. In a cool, composed tone, the first time she’d heard his voice, he apologized for the last minute switch-up but he was expecting a package and couldn’t join her for the coffee date. “Can’t the concierge take it?” she asked.
“It’s important. The pass-over must be in person.”
The freshness of her lip-cover wearied as she anxiously bit her lower lip. He watched her head and shoulders drop, the sinking figure betraying obvious disappointment, and for a beat he let the silence become heavy and dense. “Why don’t you join me, Chez Condo? We’ll hang out here and get our drink later.” She hesitated. “We both know you made the time,” he argued. He texted his address, a sub-penthouse suite in the mirror-silver glass tower looming before her. She crossed the urban square to the granite entrance and asked him to meet her there. “It’s unit 25B. You come to me,” he insisted and buzzed her up.
She knocked, and knocked again, but there was no answer. Alone in the dimly lit, muffled hallway, the mood turned ominous. A nervous reflex triggered a shiver and in that instant the door flashed open. A hand clamped firmly over her lips and dragged her in as the door slammed and springlock clicked. She felt the textured wood surface of the heavy door cold against her cheek as his lips brushed her ear. He spoke menacingly, “All the time we messaged, I knew I would have you…”
Breathless, her skin tingled but she didn’t call Red.
He squeezed her wrists into a leather cord. “I’m going to undress you. Understand?” She nodded. He lifted her grey jersey over her head, tugged it back down along her back and arms, and left it hanging around her bound wrists. Then, he unhooked her black lace bra, pulling it up, over and down. When the leather binding loosened and came off, the jersey-bra combination dropped to the floor, and she offered back her wrists which he tied again. They giggled at how he had to struggle and fight to get her Blundstone boots off and then as each sock came off, he twirled it over his head, and with a dramatic flourish tossed it over his shoulder. With a relaxed ease she allowed her leggings to slide off and she noticed in slow-motion the delicious feel of his masculine hands peeling off her bikini leopard-print knickers. He massaged the silky skin across her back, finding her body resilient and lovely, and then stepped back to admire her standing naked, face to the door, fit, ready, and perfect.
He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a rope, which he deftly laced into a series of dragonfly knots, her wet crotch, pulsating with every twist, wrap and tug. His fingers examined and tested the neatness and symmetry of the braided tapestry and then in an embrace from behind he blindly explored, fondled and stroked her breasts, eventually finding and pinching her nipples. He clenched long and hard until her pain response, a reflexive gaping of the jaw and choked cough, prompted him to release. His fingers traced the soft, sweet curvature of her hips and then reached to probe deep into her hot pussy as her wrapped torso arched away from him.
“On your knees Slut… Don’t take your eyes off me!” In an obedient thud, she dropped clumsily to the floor, and inched her knees around urgently. She stared up into his eyes, her tongue polishing her now natural, but still luscious lips, and she kept her study as he drew open his zipper. Her fascination remained fixed on him as he grabbed the back of her neck, slid his cock into her mouth, and forced it down into her throat. Close to bursting, he pulled her head back by the hair while she pushed forward ravenously.
Grabbing the rope shackles, he lifted her upright, wrestled her into the bedroom, and shoved her backwards onto the bed. Burning with desire, she spider-walked her hips to the edge of the mattress and opened her legs, desperately ushering him into her. At this he smirked, gently stroked the outside of her vagina, and smeared its silky sheen between his fingers. “Why should I?” he scoffed.
“Please, you own me! Help me, Sir,” she begged. When she pulled herself up into a sitting position, he pushed her back down, stripped and then skin-to-skin, fucked her. Finishing, he pulled out and in a moan of satisfaction furiously pumped his semen onto her nipples, neck, and face. “Thank you for your cum, Master,” she said as her glistening body softened.
Still hungry for her, he buried his face between her legs and French-kissed her clit. Flooding with orgasms, she purred, moaned, swelled, throbbed and struggled against the ropes, until he decided to make it end.
* * *
Engulfed in soft cotton bedding, a fine Egyptian-weave, their bodies still warm, he whispered through a smile, “Satisfied?”
“When do I get my coffee?” she teased.
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