All day, I anticipated her. Not the evening, her. Her movements, how she would feel on my fingers, the taste of her skin, her smell.
I dressed up for her. She always looked so stunning but I was too often shabby. Tonight I ironed my best shirt and slipped my favorite tie under the stiff collar. I strapped on my favorite cock and tucked it against my thigh. I buttoned up my dark wool dress pants even though it was a little too hot for wool that night and pulled a new pair of vintage cream suspenders over my shoulders. I pulled on thin, dark grey dress socks and tied the skinny black waxed laces on my dress shoes. I slicked back my hair.
The sink filled up with cold water and I rolled up my sleeves. I splashed my face several times and watched the water drip and splash in the bowl. I need to shock myself awake tonight. I’m in a daze dreaming of her. I bury my face in a towel and can’t help smiling. I ran the comb through my hair once more.
Music is on, there’s ice in the bucket on my makeshift bar and two heavy bar glasses next to a bottle of scotch. The glasses and the nice scotch cost me a day’s pay. Sometimes it’s worth it. For her, always, as often as I can. I checked the ice in the bucket. I knew not to fill it so early, but I’m impatient. And bullheaded. And also a perfectionist. I grabbed the bucket and dumped the ice into the sink. The frost from the freezer blew out in clouds and I stuck my head in to cool down. I am obsessive about my ice. I use those old fashioned metal trays for the big, boxy cubes they make. Beautiful and non-uniform crystal clear blocks of ice. But the damn tray is a pain in the ass. My fingers froze on the metal lever. I’m just barely strong enough to pull it up. I had a light sweat on my brow and my armpits felt damp as I finally cracked the ice. Jesus. Sometimes I get tired of my own crazy. Still, the fresh ice was deeply satisfying. My doorbell rang just as I put the lid on the bucket. Perfect.
She looked perfect. Head to toe, she’s my dream. She takes care and I thank her for it. I had a whole evening laid out in front of us, with room for improvising. It started with me sitting down on the couch and asking her to pour me a scotch.
I sat with my knees wide apart, slightly slouched against the back of the couch. She walked over to the scotch and pulled on the cork. She held it under her nose and smiled at me. She loves nice scotch. She could smell how smooth it was. I told her I wanted one ice cube. “Melt it on your tongue before you drop it in the glass,” I suggested. She pulled out a large piece of ice and ran it across her tongue. She held the lid of the ice bucket and let the water drip off her tongue & down her chin onto it. “More,” I said, “Melt it down for me.” She took it deeper into her mouth. Her lips closed on the ice. I could hear her sucking on it. Her mouth makes me hot. The sounds it makes when she kisses and sucks on me. I could feel her mouth on me as I listened.
"That’s good," I said, "Thank you. Pour me a double." She wrapped her fingers around the glass and lifted it to her mouth, letting the ice fall into it from her mouth while she stared at me. Her lips were shining from the wet and the cold. Her cheeks had a sweet, red blush. She poured a drink for me and another for herself and walked slowly towards me. I patted my thigh, "Sit on my lap." She sat with her knees between mine, her ass on my thigh. I lightly supported her back with one hand and held my drink in the other. She clinked her glass against mine, "Cheers," she said and took a large gulp. I laughed at her. She doesn’t sip. I admire her greedy appetite. I let the booze slide onto my tongue and held it there. I sip. I wait and make sure I taste it all before I swallow.
"I want to taste the scotch on your tongue," I told her. Saying it made my heart beat faster; my clit throbbed. Watching her earlier with the ice melting in her mouth was the first step. There’s something incredible about planning out a few moments and watching them unfurl in front of you. A powerful rush to imagine it and then command it and see it happening. The moments can be small. It’s still powerful. She took a gulp, swallowed, then smiled and took a sip, held the stinging alcohol in her mouth, and brought her lips to mine. I felt her tongue slide onto mine and the scotch followed. I let it run out the corner of my mouth and felt it leave a cool streak on my chin.
She shifted her hips as we kissed. I set my drink down and rested my fintertips at her waist. I teased the edge of her skirt and felt for her skin. Small movements. Small tastes. She stood up and took another sip of her drink before settling on the couch on her knees, facing me, straddling my hips. She unbuttoned her shirt with her breasts inches from my mouth. I love the way she slowly tugs her shirt out from her skirt and then rolls it off her shoulders. I kissed her bare shoulders. I kissed her neck. I took a sip of scotch and ran my wet tongue across the exposed flesh of her breasts pushing out of her bra. I intended for both of us to smell soaked in booze later. I dipped a finger into my drink and ran it from her ear down her neck and between her breasts. She pulled her arms behind her to unhook her bra, but I caught her hands, “Not yet.”
I lowered her hands to her skirt zipper. She stood and slipped it off. “Kneel on the floor and lean over the seat of the couch.” She sat on her ankles and leaned forward, but I pulled her up so that she was up on her knees, her ass level with my knees, and leaned her forward. She was next to me, not touching me, her back arched. I dipped my finger into my drink again and ran it down her spine. I stuck all four fingers in and raked them across her back. I could see the shiny trails of booze on her back. I sucked on the cube of ice and then spat it out before licking her with my cold tongue. I pet her ass through her panties for awhile before hooking my thumb under the elastic and slowly rolling them down to her thighs. She stayed bent over on the couch. So good. I pet her with both my hands now, just rubbing her ass softly.
I poured myself another drink and sucked the scotch into my mouth loudly before I bent down behind her. I let her feel my mouth and the cold, wet liquor on her flesh. I ran my fingertips down her thighs. I kissed her gently on the small of her back, up her spine and her neck. I lifted her hair and kissed her cheeks. Then I sat back down next to her, “I want you to spread yourself over my lap,” I told her, “First, adjust my cock.” She left her panties down around her knees and reached between my legs. She felt for my cock and delicately moved it through the fabric. My pants bulged. She bent over me, pressing into my lap. “Get yourself wet,” I instructed, “Rub against me. Let me know when you’re good and wet.” I sat there sipping my scotch and watched her twist and writhe on my lap. I kept my hips still and let her control the sensation. I sipped. I watched. The condensation built up on my glass and dripped on her back. I touched the drop of water and lightly smeared it around. I could barely control myself. I saw my fingers shake.
"I’m wet," she whispered and kept rubbing against me. I stroked her ass and then slid my hand between her legs. She was wet. My hand was sideways and stiff, I imagined it a shark fin cutting through the water. She rocked against me with the rhythm of my hand swirling on her ass and then dipping between her legs. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The vision of her stretched over my lap, rocking against me. Me with my knees apart, the taste of scotch in my mouth, staring down at this amazing woman. "I’m lucky," I said and she groaned loudly in reply. "I want you to get off just like this," I whispered, "Can you do that?" She nodded. She picked up the pace of her rocking and I kept my hand between her legs. She rubbed back and forth from my cock to my fingers. I kept my touch light. I wanted her aching and angry. I still had my glass in one hand but no interest in drinking. The ice swirled and clinked around in the glass as she grinded hard against me. Several hard thrusts with her fists clenched and then she slowly opened up her hands wide and held the edge of the couch. She relaxed her muscles and I watched the pleasure shudder through her as she came.
I helped her up, she sat next to me on the couch. I kneeled in front of her and pulled her ass to the edge of the cushions, burying my face in her cunt. Sucking on her and licking her wet folds. Her taste mixed in with the scotch and I felt drunk and stormy. I squeezed her. She was trying to wriggle away from me. It was too much after she’d just had an orgasm. But I held her there until it passed. Until she started over and I felt her relax. I heard her breath slow down. I felt her getting wetter, so slick my chin slid deep against her and I felt her cunt opening up for me. I pressed my face hard into her while I sucked. She grabbed my head and pulled at me and nearly smothered me as she came hard in my mouth. I didn’t want to move, but I rubbed my wet lips down the inside of both her thighs. I smeared my face against her skin and then licked the trail left behind. She kept her hands in my hair, her fingers massaged my scalp. This wasn’t in my script; kneeling and devouring her like this. I had imagined her climbing up off my lap and unzipping my fly. I got up to get her another drink.
“Are you cold?” I asked. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her. She took her scotch from me and drank. She closed her eyes and pulled me nearer. She put her lips against my temple and started whispering, “I liked the ice,” she said, “I liked melting it on my tongue for you. I like it when you think of these things.” She moved her drink into her left hand and with her right, pulled my suspenders off my shoulders. “I like it when you set it up. I can feel it when we hit that beat and something you imagined is happening between us.” She loosened my tie and slid it over my head, starting on my buttons, slowly, exploring under the shirt at each stop down to my pants. “I want to draw my name on you. With the tip of my finger and scotch, I’ll cover your chest with my name. And later, after you let me fuck you, I’ll write my name on your thighs.” My shirt was completely unbuttoned now and she rubbed my chest, sliding her fingers around my nipples and under my breasts, under my arms into the damp hairs hiding there. “Feel my name,” she said and with a cold, wet finger traced the letters of her name on the bones of my chest. I looked down at her finger gliding across me. I felt dazed. There was something my body understood in that moment that my brain and my heart wouldn’t know until later.
I felt her name on me and I did let her fuck me. After she undid my pants and pulled out my cock. After she stroked and sucked me and lowered herself onto me and came again while she bit my ear so hard it left a bruise. After I pushed her onto her stomach on the couch and rubbed my cock, still wet from her pussy, up against her ass while she sucked scotch off my fingers. After she pulled down my boxers and held me naked. She grabbed the small, wooden dildo with the knobbed end and stared at my cunt while she moved it slowly in and out of me. She licked my clit softly. My cunt squeezed around the hard wood and I came in a rush, pushing her head away from me. She stared at me. She waited. She spread my legs wide and ran her finger over the melting ice in her glass, then wrote her name over and over again on my thighs.