It had been an enjoyable evening. A few cocktails with friends, a meal, descent wine and then, finishing off with a Vodka Martini in a bar. That was when I noticed him when I lifted my glass to my lips and took a sip. His steely blue eyes caught my attention like they were about to pierce my flesh; pinning me to the wall.

I looked away and joined in a laugh with one of my friends: I don’t know what I had laughed at because in that instant I had lost the thread of all the conversations going on around me. A cool breeze caressed my body, stiffening my nipples; yet there was no breeze coming from anywhere in the tightness and warmth of that corner of the bar that we inhabited.

In that instant, my stomach had turned a somersault because I knew. I knew him, not actually knew him, but I knew what he was, how he would behave, how I would be taken if I let him anywhere near my body. My pussy was crying out, telling me to look at him and I wanted to turn my head and look but I was scared. No, not scared, of him, scared of myself. I know what happened last time I locked eyes with a man at a bar. I know how I behaved then, I know what I whispered in his ear – every word, and I know how he replied. He was right, I did need to wash my mouth out with a bar of soap and I did need a good spanking, and yes, he did give me one as I remember. I felt every hand that struck me, every pleasurable pat on my bottom, though it was me that had to tell him where I kept my cane. That was such a hot night. I felt my bottom sting and glow a bright red, right to the point when his cock penetrated me; adding to the warmth I already felt. I can feel it now, the excitement rising in me when he knelt over my body to grasp my hair, gathering it, pulling back on it. I remember my body suspended in mid-air, the only contact with the bed being my knees; hands outstretched in front of me, my hair firm in his grip pulling my body upwards, arching my back. Yes – fuck yes, that was such a good night.

With that very picture in my head, I turned, raised my glass to take another sip and look over the rim towards him.

He stared right back at me as if he had never stopped staring. His glass, full of a golden liquid which I presumed was whiskey, was halfway to his lips. He sipped. I sipped. We stood there, thirty feet apart, having this silent conversation while our respective liquids warmed our throats and stomachs and in my case, my pussy.

His eyes told me everything I needed to know. I could tell what his intentions would be and I knew I would be egging him on; demanding he carries them out. I felt his eagerness through his demeanour.

At that moment, I had become attracted to his salt and pepper hair, his close shaved beard, I reasoned that he smelt of expensive aftershave even though he didn’t shave. His black suit looked tireless, elegant and it complemented his tall frame. I imagined him without it. The suit discarded on the floor of my bedroom, his cock pointing upwards to the ceiling as if gravity had taken the day off. Firm and erect – angry at me for teasing him. Me, crawling onto the bed and waiting like I had last time. Waiting for him to fuck me.

I suddenly felt the need to go to the loo and after asking a friend where it was found myself walking towards his direction and towards the door marked Ladies just beyond him. The bar was full and a direct path was not forthcoming. I weaved through all the people that didn’t care whether they stepped back into you or not. Some, I thought, did it on purpose just to nudge at my breasts as I walked past. They didn’t matter. He did and I would need to squeeze past him to get to the loo. The journey seemed to take forever. Our eyes never left each other, not until I got closer. Not until he clocked the sway of my breasts underneath my bra-less halter-neck dress. It was a bit posh for these parts and I knew he knew that.

I placed my hand on the wooden upright just above his head in an attempt to sway and twist my body past him; breasts facing his gaze. That’s when his leg shot outwards blocking my path; his foot resting on the rung of the bar stool opposite.

I looked at his leg and then into his eyes. I felt my breath quicken, I felt my heart pound in my chest; heaving breasts rose and lowered. I saw him glance down at them. I saw his tongue peek from between his lips as he pondered my next move.

I lifted my leg over him; pulling my dress up a little to give me more room to straddle his leg. I stopped halfway across, putting my hand on his chest to stabilise myself. A satisfied smile crept across my face. At least his mind was on my wavelength.

“It’s awfully crowded in here,” I said, “difficult to manoeuvre.”

He nodded. I felt his thigh rise, inserting itself between my open legs and pressing itself upon my sex. My now dampened sex. I let it rest there while I pondered how to get my other leg over, not that I had ever wondered before as to how to get my leg over anything or anyone.

“Not as crowded as it usually gets,” he replied.

I felt his nipple stiffen underneath the palm of my hand. I had to lean in towards him to swing my other leg over his. I caught a whiff of his aftershave and I found myself sucking it into my lungs. Swooning with excitement. He smelt good enough to eat. I hope I did too.

“Would you like a hand?” he asked.

I couldn’t respond, whatever I would have said would have come out wrong and I would have ended up over his knee being spanked for using filthy, dirty words. Or maybe not!

I just nodded, quickly, wondering how he was going to get me out of this awkward position.

He placed a hand on my bottom, the one already on the side of where I was heading, his left hand grazed past my breast to hold me under the arm as he swung me around; lowering his leg in the process.

“That seemed a lot easier than I imagined,” I said.

I half stumbled forward, into him. My head ending up close to his neck, inches away from his earlobe. I wanted to flick my tongue out at it, lick around the rim and let it dive inside. I wanted to taste something of him. His hand firmed on the side of my breast, cupping it, steadying me. His touch sent shivers down my spine. My nipples ached. I felt a jolt of pleasure clutch at my sex. I swear, if I had clenched my thighs at that moment in time, I would have climaxed.

I pushed my hand off his chest allowing me to move away.

“Sorry,” I whispered, glancing down at his trousers.

His gaze followed my eyes; looking at the stain I had deposited on his trousers. His fingers touched it before raising it to his lips. The fingernail of my other hand scraped across the pronounced erection that had grown in his pants as I slipped away towards my intended goal.

My heart was beating faster than a hummingbirds wings. The encounter was everything I had imagined. Thrilling, exciting and erotic. It left me feeling needy and horny. Who the fuck was he? Did I care? Did I fuck?

As soon as I sat down on the loo, I slipped a finger into my now sodden pussy. It sucked them up as if they belonged to someone else. Him. I closed my eyes and allowed myself a little play before I did what I had to do.

On my return journey, I noticed he was looking the other way. I headed towards him, coughed loudly and waited.

“May I pass?” I asked; expecting his leg to raise suddenly so that we could perform the second act of the dance of erotica.

He smiled at me and nodded; leaning back into the unforgiving wall to let me pass. I lifted my hand to his cheek as I passed him. Watching his eyes with such intensity as I stroked it in the direction of his lips. Leaving it close enough for the realisation to set in. His eyes opened wide, his nostrils flared. I let my wet fingers circle his lips before pushing the two fingers into his mouth; twisting my head to one side as I watched them disappear. His tongue swirled around them like a tornado. A horny grimace clutched at my face. I pulled my fingers from his mouth and sucked on them myself.

“We need to go,” I said, clutching his elbow in my hand and ushering him out of the bar in front of me. I never even checked to see whether he had any friends he may have liked to have said goodbye to, I guessed there was no wife or girlfriend present, not tonight anyway. I pushed and manhandled him through the bar with some urgency, said a quick goodbye to my friends on the way out, grabbed my jacket and handbag from the chair before spilling out onto the street.

My nipples stiffened – it had nothing to do with the cold night air. My free hand came upon the stiffness that was present in his pants. I squeezed hard pushing my hand downwards as I clutched at it, his hand found the back of my head and he pulled me in for a crushing kiss. We stumbled onto the pavement, devouring each other, his hand found my hair and a flashback of that night on the bed filled my mind. He pulled it down twisting my head upwards while his tongue invaded my mouth. I responded eagerly; my hand squeezed his hardness before we broke the kiss.

“Fuck,” I gasped, as I stood upright, panting heavily.

He gasped too as he hailed a cab. Seconds later we were inside.

“Fourteen Warwick Way,” I told the driver and off we sped. His hand came upon my breast and I found myself telling him to pinch them hard. He did, I sucked in loads of air and clenched my stomach muscles to try and stay quiet; it worked.

We behaved ourselves for the twenty or so minutes that it took us to arrive at the house though I would have been happy to have been taken on the back seat of the cab. I wouldn’t have minded the driver joining in either.  I was feeling hornier than I had ever felt in the last week. It must have been that Vodka Martini; the hair that broke the camel’s back. Or it could have been his stare. Or that knowing feeling in the pit of my stomach.

We came to halt outside my house. He paid the driver; ever the gentleman, though I was hoping that would be his only act of gentleness from now on.

I strode to the door, fiddling with my bag and trying to fish out the keys from all the crap I kept in it. His hand went quickly up my skirt to cup my bottom, a condom fluttered its way to the floor reasserting the fact that we wouldn’t be needing them tonight.

I opened and stepped through the door, his fingers brushing through my thighs and stroking my wet and sodden lips.

“You’re a dirty little fucker,” he whispered in my ear. He was right.

He was referring to the fact that my knickers were in my handbag; where I always kept them in case of emergencies. I smiled to myself as I found my body being pushed towards the stairs. I hadn’t had time to close the door and he didn’t seem to care.

My dress found itself quickly draped over my waist as my hands came upon the fourth step, my legs were being pushed apart with the forcefulness of his hands, fingers pushed into my cunt and he fucked me with them for what seemed like ages; his thumb dangerously close to my little starfish entrance; and a welcome thumb it was too. His free hand struggled violently with his belt and trousers. I heard the characteristic sound of a zip being lowered, the shuffling of trousers and a sigh of success.

I felt his cock slip along my entrance, I felt its head push my lips apart, coating it with my juices. I felt him play with me but I wasn’t having any of that. I pushed backwards and allowed my cunt to suck his cock inside me. It was a direct approach, it was heaven. The sound of copulation, the slapping of flesh, the squishing sounds of pistoning flesh, filled my ears.

“Fuck me, fuck me hard!” I cried.

I felt him pull out of me; almost all the way out before pushing his cock back inside. His strokes were slow at first, deliberate, almost considerate. He was big enough to not have to worry about where he positioned it. Anywhere would have done, especially in my cunt that seemed to suck pleasure from fresh air at times.

I felt the build-up start. My eyes closed, my elbows tucked into the base of the stair, my face resting on one step higher, my breasts crying out for the attention they weren’t going to get in that position. His cock fucked me. I started to whisper into the carpet, “my hair, my hair.”

I didn’t think he heard me say those words, which made his actions all the more intense. I felt him lean forwards, I felt him gather up my long hair, I felt him clutch and twist it in his hands and then I smiled broadly as my head was pulled back, my neck extended, my back arched.

This fuck was going to get better than the best.

He pulled. Hard!

He was leaning backwards, the only contact with me was my hair and cunt. His cock fucked into my sheath setting it on fire with every thrust, pushing me upwards over that hill, mountain, call it what you like. I was coming.

It wasn’t his cock; it was all the little things that brought me off while he fucked me with it. The realisation that he must think of how dirty I am when it came down to it. The act of pinching my nipples hard in the cab, the thrusting of his fingers into my cunt like a common whore, his thumb rubbing at my anus which he was more than welcome to have taken. Yes, his hard cock filled a needy hole, but it was the way he gathered up my hair and pulled back on it, the way my back arched, the way he was suspended with his trousers pooled around his ankles. That’s what made me climax.

I came when he started using filthy words to describe my behaviour. I smiled, he’s telling me that, I thought to myself.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” I screamed as I let out a loud cry of release. He hammered my cunt and pulled back on my hair even harder. My mouth was open but not a sound emerged. I couldn’t speak, moan, groan or yell at that instant in time. It was breaking over me, covering my whole body in a soundproof room.

I heard a sound from outside, a muffled don’t look, honey, coming from some passer-by as they shuffled past my house. The front door still open, our copulating sounds filtering into the open air, clinging to the outside of the house and finding their way through the neighbours' open window and into their bedroom hopefully turning them on too. It wouldn’t be the first time my neighbour had shouted through the window at night telling me to be quiet.

I pushed my body back as far as I could. He didn’t let up on my hair, he kept pulling it harder, arching my back further and further until he stepped forward pulling me upright and letting his cock slip from my cunt. I suddenly felt empty, unloved but he had pulled me completely off the stairs and into a standing position. He spun me around, he buried his tongue in my mouth and we kissed like whirlwinds. My breasts and nipples finally got their turn as we stood there necking.

We must have looked a right sight to anyone outside with our clothes in complete disarray; a funny sight to any voyeur that would have the guts to stop and look. I finally had time to grab the door and push it close. The latch snapped reassuringly. I sighed.

“Now what?” he asked.

I placed both hands around his neck, lowered my head to rest my forehead on his chest and gulped in some much-needed air. I felt copious quantities of liquid slip from my cunt and snake their way over my thigh. I looked up into his eyes and started to giggle.

“What?” he asked. At least I had amused him.

I searched his eyes hoping he would find the answer himself.

“Now, we do it all again.”