Secret Confessions of a Smart Girl

In celebration of reaching my 100,000th page view, I decided to write some porn.  Then, when I got halfway through writing it I got distracted and had to write a different story instead.  It only makes sense, I suppose. One story for 50,000 views, two for 100,000. I’m not sure where all of you came from, but thanks for reading.  My second thank you will probably be up sometime later this week.

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He enjoys the fact that I can’t get enough of his body.

Whenever we’re alone together, it’s all I can do to keep my hands off of him. I am constantly restraining the desire to ask him to fuck me or beg to suck his cock.

It’s hard to be near him without thinking of sex, without thinking of his hands hurting me, his teeth on my throat, his cock inside me.

It makes it difficult to go on more traditional “dates.”

Still, I can control myself. I can be calm, relaxed. I can sit across from him with my back straight and my eyes open and have a conversation about the weather or about the current economic crisis. I can talk to him without staring improperly at his hands or his lips and imagining them on me.

I can be good.

Except when I can’t.

He asked me to dinner. Just the two of us. Someplace where we’d both have to dress like adults. Someplace where I’d have to behave – quiet voice, still hands, innocent gaze.

I thought it sounded nice. We could act like grownups. We could, possibly, even have a conversation that didn’t include any discussion about how much I wanted his cock shoved down my throat or how I was imagining what it would feel like for him to beat me until I cry. It would be interesting. An experiment. I agreed.

That night, when he picked me up at my apartment, he looked at the knee length dress I was wearing and said “Are you wearing underwear with that? You really don’t have to. In fact. I don’t think you should.” Then he sent me off to change.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

Just taking off my underwear made me hot. The thought of going out, naked under my dress, made me want to get down on my knees and beg to take his cock in my mouth. It made me want to beg him to fuck me just to take the edge off. I was soaking wet by the time I made it back to the living room.

“I’m not sure,” I said, “that this is a good idea.”

“What, going to dinner?” he responded.

“Going to dinner, without underwear, when all I can think of is your cock. I don’t suppose there’s time for you to fuck me first? Otherwise I’m going to spend the entire night running to the bathroom and worrying about dripping on the seat.”

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked. “You want me to bend you over the couch right now and take you like the slut you are before whisking you off to dinner? You want me pull your dress up over your head, smack your ass until it’s bright red and then shove myself inside you until you scream?”

“Yes, please sir, yes,” I begged, my hands going to the front of his pants and my lips to the base of his throat.

“No” he said pleasantly, taking my hands from his zipper, and wrapping them around his neck. He kissed me and finished, “you’re just going to have to wait.”

“You, sir, are an evil son of a bitch.” I responded.

“I know,” he replied. “That’s why you like me.”

I went to put on my coat when he called me back.

“Oh wait,” he said, “I forgot something,” and he pulled a remote control vibrating egg out of his pocket, bent me over the edge of the sofa, and unceremoniously shoved it deep inside my cunt. “Don’t lose that during dinner,” he continued, and then wiped his fingers on a tissue he pulled from his pocket and turned and walked out the door.

I was cursing when I caught up to him, and muttered nasty things under my breath all the way to the car.

As we reached its doors, he grabbed me by the hair and shoved me up against the side of the vehicle making my eyes go glassy and my head go light. “You should be quiet now,” he said firmly. “We’re going to have a nice dinner, and no one is going to know that anything whatsoever is going on.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied meekly, and that’s what we did.

We had a lovely dinner.

The food was amazing. The conversation was not, since every time I’d get distracted enough from the awkwardness of my situation to try and talk about something other than the weather he’d turn the egg on and force me to spend all my attention on trying not to squirm.

Then there were the innuendos.

I won’t repeat them.

I will simply say that, to an outsider, nothing about our conversation would have been in the least remarkable, but to me every other word was complete torture.

I must have excused myself to run to the ladies room at least 15 times.

The waiter probably thought I was on drugs.

At last, it was the end of the meal. When the waiter asked if we wanted dessert, I don’t think I’ve ever said “no” quickly in my life.

He flicked the vibrator to on and asked for a dessert menu.

I crossed my legs tighter to keep from squirming, bit my tongue to keep from cursing, and simply said, “Please.”

He asked for the check.

I pulled on the coat I’d been sitting on all night (I get quite chilly, I’d said) and followed him to the car.

“How are you doing?” he asked, as we pulled out of the parking lot and started to head back home.

“With all due respect, sir, if you do not find a secluded spot, pull over this car, and fuck me mercilessly, I may never speak to you again.”

“Is that any way for a proper young lady to act? I just took you out for a nice dinner,” he said. “You should thank me, or at least ask nicely”

“You want me to ask nicely?!?!” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Well that is how good girls get what they want.” Stopping the car at a light, he turned to look at me and said in the voice that always  sends shivers down my spine, “Besides, you know I like it when you say please.”

“Please, sir, will you please pull this car over and let me have your cock?” I begged, “Will you please use me, sir? I don’t care how, I just want your cock inside me, and I don’t want to wait any longer.” He flipped the vibrator on and turned his head to the front as the light changed to green. “Please, sir. Please fuck me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just use me. Please, sir. Whatever you want. Anything you want. Just please give me what I need.”

“As soon as we get home,” he said, not even turning to look at me,  “I’m going to shove my cock down your throat and then take you so hard you beg me to stop. Until then, however, you’re just going to have to wait.”

So I did.

And he did.

It was a very nice dinner.