1. Your Night is Mine


    Date: 8/2/2015, Categories: Fiction, Bondage and restriction, Exhibitionism, Female Domination, Male/Female, Oral Sex, Reluctance, Author: bluest bell, Rating: 72.7, Source: sexstories.com

    lead you forward, further into the dark side of the concourse. "For privacy," I say. As my eyes adjust I see we are in front of an exercise club and an expensive sport outfitter. Lean mannequins model sports bras and yoga pants in the shop window. Outside the shop and club are two polished concrete statues on raised dais. One a male soccer player at the apogee of a bicycle kick, the other a female skier in the half-crouched downhill position. I lay my bag on the ground as you stand, slightly bowed, clearly uncertain as to what's going to happen next. You glance furtively at me as I approach you, my hips swaying as my heels click on the paving stones. I slide my hand along the small of your back and let it rest on your side. "Relax," I whisper in your ear, and give your side a gentle squeeze. My word seems to have the opposite effect as I slowly sweep my hands over your shoulders and across your torso. I can feel your heart nearly pounding out of your smooth shaved chest. I can't help but murmur my approval. You begin to breath through your mouth as my hands work their way down your unbuttoned shirt and find your nipples. I smile and look you straight in the eyes as I flare out your shirt and tweak both hard nubs at once. Your eyes widen with sudden revelation and it's clear you're unsure how to feel about this turn of events. "Don't worry," I coyly state as I draw you close to me, my fingers tightly gripping your nipples, "I just need to find out what you've got hidden." I ...
    caress your smooth chest and undo the last few buttons on your black silk shirt. I let it hang open as I trace a line down across your stomach. Moving to your left side I slip my right hand up the back of your shirt and rest it on the small of your back. My left hand briefly grazes your bared belly with my fingertips. I'd scratch you, but long nails just won't do for security work. My breasts press into your left arm and side as I flatten my left hand and press my fingers under your belt and down the front of your pants. I feel the elastic waistband of your briefs and purse my lips. "These won't do," I whisper, my hot breath in your ear, "This search requires total access." I swiftly retrieve a thick pair of shears, used for cutting zip ties, from my security bag. I roughly pull you close by your belt, cowing you with my gaze. Reaching into your pants at your side I grab the elastic of your briefs and quickly snip them apart before spinning you in place to cut the other side. I slip my hand under your waistband and curtly rip your ruined briefs up and out of your pants. I hold them before you momentarily, smiling, then ball them up and throw them toward the lit half of the concourse. They come to rest near the concrete bench. Returning to your side my hands resume their search. My left hand resumes its search beneath your waistline as I pull you close, pressing our bodies together with my right arm. My left hand slowly surveys your pubic area. I nearly come in my moistening ...
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