1. Unexpected Endings


    Date: 9/23/2015, Categories: Flash Erotica, Author: HeraTeleia, Rating: 29, Source: LushStories

    with pleasure as the familiar sound of a zipper being undone met her eager ears. “Do you want this? I want you to want this, slut.” She nodded in the affirmative and leaned her forehead against the hundred years old bricks as he lined up his cock -- which she had not even bothered to look at -- with her innermost opening and with one quick, hard, gasping thrust, sank himself balls deep into her slippery, needful pussy. He grabbed her tits now, pulling them from their bra, exposing her entirely to the gathering crowd, her skirt well up over her back, her stockings the only remaining garment left unmolested, her strappy black pumps having been lost in the frantic need to fuck. “Lick your finger, slut, stroke your clit, I want to feel you cum for me.” And again, she did exactly as he asked. She was so fucking close, her clit forced out from her hiding place, her thighs slick with her own want, and oh fuck, she was suddenly fighting the overwhelming urge to give in to her orgasm. Fuck. She absolutely detested losing fights, and this was one she was bound to lose. Her body gave her away first, her skin flushing pink, the crashing waves of her orgasm slamming into her, causing her to involuntarily moan with absolute, ...
    grateful, sentient pleasure. “You slut... fuck… ” She felt his cum filling her, running down her thighs, hot and sticky and full of fantasy. When she regained her breath, she stood to face him, her 6 foot matching him exactly. He was calmly tucking his shirt into his pants, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the light cast by the streetlight. The men who had gathered were either staring agape or reassembling themselves likewise. She smoothed down her skirt, buttoned her blouse as best she could, knowing that her long black cashmere hooded coat inside the bar would be there to hide the evidence of her unexpected coupling. Her shoes she picked up off the cobblestones and put back on, making an effort at looking respectable and only half-succeeding. When she turned back, he had melted into the crowd. Ignoring the wolf whistles and comments, she went back into the bar, put on her coat, and buttoned it to the neck before reaching into her pocket for her phone. Instead of her phone, though, she first reached a note, scribbled on a napkin -- a simple note. “Thank you.” And that was it. A night that started off perfectly boring, and ended with a knowing look from the bartender and the desperate need for a shower...
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