Next Time

She listens, thinking, ‘I picked the wrong one.’ This one talks and she thinks of his friend’s mouth on her.

Naked, lying next to him, skin on skin. Her fingers on his hairy chest, down his torso, past abs to the base of his prick. His thick fingers running down her side, hips, ass, thighs, calves. On the way up his hand would stop at her warm wettening pussy. Her face hot with blood at the thought of straddling his chest, his fingertips brushing her skin, a palm landing on her small, soft breast.

“Mmmmmm,” she says, looking at her drink, and the guy thinks she’s agreeing with his never-ending chatter.

She’s thinking about her hands wrapped around the shaft of his friend’s cock, pulling on it. Him bucking, she squeezing thighs against his ribs. Sliding down to top him, she’d spit on his stiff prick. Ease it into herself. His hands on her tits. She’d grab his wrists, pin him down. Bang her pelvis into his, fuck him hard.

Her sweat dripping onto him, stinging his eyes, she’d ride him like a thoroughbred. Feeling his throbbing cock about to explode inside her, she’d let him slip out. Slid her pussy up his body. Plant it firmly on his mouth, make him suck it. When she was ready to release she’d reach back and jerk his still wet dick. They’d come in unison. His semen arcing like lightening. Her brain a pool of endorphins.

She excuses herself to the ladies room. Out on the street, walking away, she wishes her instincts were better.

‘Next time,’ she thinks. ‘Next time, I’ll go for the quiet one.’