Girls Like That

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She was so tight she made my loins ache. I wanted inside of her. The slutty little thing wore a shiny lick of a dress that reminded me of the black paint on my favorite ride. Now I wanted to ride her ass just like I ride my bikes, with a lot of speed. No brakes would be needed for that piece of tail; she wasn’t after safety. I could tell by the way all five-foot-nothing of her prowled the bar floor in those spiked stilettos. There was nothing passive or tentative about her. She had game, but she was in my bar, and now, inevitably in my head. “Leave it alone, Alex,” my bartender laughed. “You’re not her type.” “I’m every girl’s type when I need to be,” I smirked. “Even hers.”  Kelan knew I’d always had a weakness for girls like that. They were like the Achilles’ heel of good intentions. Smoky eyes, full mouth, breasts jacked up with that tempting swell of jailbait cleavage. And that waist. I could get my hands all the way around a waist like that. I could pull her down onto my lap and do nasty, filthy things with her and she would probably beg for more, simpering, in a voice çankaya escort like burnt sugar, sticky sweet but with some edge. She knew what I wanted. I made no attempt to hide my predatory stare as I leaned back against the bar, downing Jack Daniel’s to steady my instincts. She was making my blood run faster, and I knew I had to play her just right. Girls like that want to feel like they’re in control of the chase to appease their morals later. I blame it on that annoying spill of ‘Girl Power’ in the ‘90s that bled over into every decade that followed. So much noise about sex when it was all just chemicals and hormones. When you know you both want it, who cares how it’s justified? Yeah, she might be a bit of work, that one. I took another swig of my drink, nodded her way and tipped my fedora, breaking into a full grin as she finally took that detour across the floor that would bring her right to me. The conversation was predictable. She was trying to be clever and not seem obvious. Her name was Chloe and she keçiören escort smelled of some kind of teenage-dream drugstore perfume that brought back memories of junior year in high school. The tight dress she wore was far too trashy by most standards, but she was looking to make an impression and damn, did she ever succeed in spades. Chloe drank the fruity martini I had the bartender make for her. She giggled and touched her long dark hair self-consciously as she leaned into the bar with that delicious swayback posture that gave her body a sweet s-shaped curve. Fucking tight. I wanted to hoist her up onto the bar and push the whole of my tongue right up into her cherry snatch. Eventually I grew bored of the small talk, and I knew she had too. She was licking the rim of her martini glass with each lusty gulp and closing the distance of the personal space between us. She was actively pitching to me now, probably thinking about the story she’d tell her girlfriends the next morning, about how she took the initiative etimesgut escort and went after what she wanted. I smiled at her, letting her take the reins while I charged the horse from behind. When I finally invited her for a drink in my back office, she was eager and offered me her hand. It was small and slightly sweaty and I grabbed her by the wrist instead. “Just so you know, I’ve never done this before,” came the requisite promise, tempered with nervous giggles. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to be gentle with you,” I said, as I shut the door behind us. My office was cramped with stacked cases of liquor, a modest desk and swivel chair and filing cabinets lining the walls. I turned a small lamp on, just enough to illuminate the outline of those fantastic curves. I dropped my fedora on the desk and sat down, sighing out loud as I surveyed my pretty little thing shifting her weight from one stilettoed foot to the other. “Are you going to let me play with you?” “Yes.” I enjoyed her lack of pretences, now that we were alone. “Why don’t you come sit on my lap.” I was especially pleased when those coltish legs spread and she straddled me, her hair brushing my cheek as she leaned in to press her tongue against my ear. I hadn’t been wrong about this one at all. “You like being a little slut, don’t you, Chloe?” I whispered teasingly, knowing it risked a slap across the face. Her grin was positively pornographic.

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