The Desperation in Her Eyes

Michael and I started writing this post a while ago. With a few little adjustments, the story fit with the #WickedWednesday prompt, I finally got to write more erotica and got to take a picture of myself.

The sun was setting as she finally arrived at her building. Standing in front of the door, she started looking for the key and wondered yet again why her bag was full of all kinds of things which made it harder to find what she was looking for.

“Where are the fucking keys?”, she asked herself as she looked for the key chain. There they were. She felt the key chain and pulled it out, looking for the right one. She couldn’t wait to get home, strip off clothes, maybe even take a nice hot shower and be where she belonged. She opened the front door and made her way upstairs. With each step, she felt the burden of the day become smaller and she felt lighter.

She let out a silent sigh as she put the key into the apartment door and turned it. The door opened, she stepped in and closed the door behind her.

First she took off her shoes and put them in their place, as she knew he liked it. Then she placed her bag on a chair and took off her jacket. Then she saw her collar sitting on the counter. She smiled, because that meant he was already home and waiting for her.

She put on the collar and stepped into the living room, to find him sitting there. He was in his favorite chair with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The lights in the room were off except for a lamp over the living room table opposite him. “Take off your clothes my little slut. ” He paused to take a sip. “You are going to put on a show for me, show me what belongs to me.”

As she was getting undressed and folding her clothes nicely on a chair near the table, she saw a little package.

“Once you’re naked, open it and put them on.” She could feel his eyes on her as she stood there, naked, opening the package. It was stockings. Black fishnet stockings. She looked confusedly at him. As if he could read her mind, he said:”Do as you are told. Put them on. You won’t need panties.”

Once she was wearing them, she turned to him for further instructions. “Sit on the table, spread your legs and touch that little cunt that belongs to me.”
She climbed on the table and sat there, her legs spread and with her wet pussy on display and started to rub her clit, with the fishnet stockings on.
“That’s my good girl,” he growled “cum for me.”

Her finger moved faster as he watched her. She loved that she was the center of his attention and she wanted to be his good girl.

Her fingers dipped into her wet cunt, just to find their way back to her clit. Circling it, she spread her cunt lips with her other hand and closed her eyes, enjoying herself.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes, slut? I don’t think so. Open them and look at me.” His words made her take a breath and she opened her eyes, just as he had told her. She knew he liked to look in her eyes as she was getting close. Her eyes focused on him. Her breathing became faster and her eyes focused on him. She felt herself craving his cock, his fingers, his mouth.

“May I cum Sir?” she asked when she felt the orgasm building up. He smiled and took another sip of whiskey, pretending to think about it, knowing that it was pure torture for her.

“Hm…. That is a good question. I’m not sure you really want it. Keep on going a bit longer. Don’t stop, don’t slow down, don’t close your eyes.”

There was only a short while she could keep the rubbing up without cumming. He could see the desperation in her eyes, her cunt dripping wet.

“Such a needy, desperate, obedient slut”, he said as he put down the glass and his cigarette. Slowly he rose from the chair and walked towards her, unzipping his pants and taking out his erect cock. With one motion he ripped a bigger hole in her fishnet stockings, and while one hand guided his cock into her wet cunt, the other held her by her neck.

“Now you may cum, whore”, he said, as he entered her with a single thrust.

Michael and Lillith