Wednesday Night Blues (Erotica)

Posted by TacoODoomcloseAuthor: TacoODoom Name:
Email: morbidpixy@hotmail.com
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About: TacoODoom is a short, tattooed, and physiologically female. She's married with a puppy. Her turn offs include tequila, the color pink(usually) and people who are rude. Her turn ons are far too numerous but include high heels, mohawks, and writing in the third person. She watches too much porn and generally spends far too much time on EF when she should be studyingSee Authors Posts (3)

I see her across the smokey haze of the club every wednesday she’s here, without fail, I know, because every week I see her in some torturously hot outfit, and every week I kick myself in the ass for not even attempting to talk to her. The air is humid and almost fragrant with the liquor laced sweat of the denizens, dancing themselves into a frenzy to the bad techno remix of some 80′s punk-cum-pop song that vaguely brings back memories of former drunken glories. Tonight she stands out amongst the see of black in all it’s variations: pvc, lace, velvet, leather, ect. In her shimmering cerulean latex mini-dress, hugging every curve like a second skin, she leans against the bar like some glorious statue fit for worship. She’s a hot shit, but if she knows it the air of fey aloofness she projects keeps her secret well. Her lips are painted the most curious shade, like the skin of a black plum but as glossy and lush as the latex clinging to her skin. From across this pretentious hell hole I’m drawn as if by a tractor beam that emanates from the graceful angles of her elegant hip bones.

Before I know it I’m standing next to her, I tap her shoulder gently and as cool as I can manage I lean over to her ear and yell over the din of the bar “Can I buy you a drink?” smoooooth, real fucking smooth.
She smirks down at me, gives me the once over and as I’m gearing myself up for the inevitable rejection, she cups my cheek with her hand and says in voice that feels like hot honey running down my spine “How about you kiss me instead?”

Before I can react she’s leaning in and I feel the press of those sinful glossy lips against mine. I kiss back, praying to god that I don’t seem over eager or too passive. She cups the back of my head and takes the lead, a delicate battle of lips, teeth, and tongues. I feel those glorious hip bones pressing against mine, pressing me into the hard edge of bar that I’m clinging to for dear life. The realization I indeed do have hands, I decide the best course of action is to put them on her slender waist. She’s nibbling my lower lip and I’m loosing the ability to function properly. We both come up for air, and she’s giving me that smirk again.

“Mine, yours, or the ladies?”

“What?” I respond desperately wishing my brain would catch up to reality

“My place, your place, or the ladies room?”

“OOOOh, um.. whichever you prefer.” At this point I could care less if she asked me to dress in a pink tutu and dance the hula with all and sundry as audience.

Shes pulling me along by the hand down the dark corridor to the claustrophobic rooms that contain the toilets which I highly doubt are actually used by the patrons for relieving themselves. As the door clicks shut behind us I feel her hand on my shoulder, gently spinning me around and pushing me onto the seat of the bog.

“How about that kiss?” she says as she peels up the hem of her dress.

I can see the sheen of the lube she used to shine the dress, glimmering on the skin of her thighs, and higher up at their glorious apex, a shimmer of wetness all her own, and who am I to deny a ladies request, least of all this sinful goddess standing before me. She’s bald as a babe ‘cept for the wee little pubic mohawk that seems to be in fashion these days, not that I’m an expert on the styling of pubic hair.

I place my hands behind her thighs, the plump cushion of her ass against my index fingers, and pull her close to straddle my face. She smells of white chocolate and heaven and I dive right in. Lapping at her end to end and nibbling on her delicate inner labia, sucking and pulling on her plump outers. She’s tugging on my hair guiding me where she wants me, and she can have me, anywhere she needs. She’s practically humping my face and I’ve got two fingers buried in her, stroking against a funny textured bit of skin that has her keening, and alternately nibbling and sucking on her clit for all i’m worth. When she comes, she comes a fucking torrent and I drink it down greedily, despite the fact her thighs clamp against my face with a strength that leaves me wanting for oxygen.

As I’m sitting there dazed from either lack of oxygen or the sheer, unadulterated hotness of the present situation, or both, she rolls down her dress, kisses my cheek and writes what I think is her number on my hand. She slips out of the room looking entirely un-phased and I wipe my face, quickly pulling my hand back to see a short note in now blurry but elegant scrawl “See you next week”.