A Tryst in Seven

Prologue

My hand grips your thigh just below the hem of your short black dress, and you sigh as loudly as you dare. Glasses clink and the fake laughter of party banter fills the air.

"Why did we come here, if we both hate parties?" I ask. You are wearing that perfume. Oh. That perfume. Memories flash. You biting your lip. My teeth against your neck. I return from my reverie.

"Being a wallflower can be fun, in its own way," you say.

"I hear it has its perks."

"Oh, stop." You lean in close to me, your breasts bunching together beneath the thin material. "Just try to have fun."

"Do we even know anyone here?"

"Sure! That's Jamie and Erin, they invited us. And Josh and Megan." You nod your head at two couples smiling at one another over their wine glasses as your hand finds my bicep.

"I don't know who those people are. Did I mention I hate parties?"

"You did. Many times. But we should go out occasionally. And besides," you grip my arm a little tighter, "never know what might happen."

"Gonna tease me all night like this, until we get home?"

"Maybe."

I turn from you, aware of eyes upon us. I allow myself to smile and talk about nothing with people that I'll likely never meet again. I compliment Jamie on his home, he tells me about how they just re-did their kitchen and bathroom, about how they did it all themselves. I don't care but I pretend that I do.

The party flows outside, into the thick July evening. We follow, waters in hand, as our fellow partygoers stumble and giggle in various stages of intoxication, awaiting the big event.

"The view is spectacular from here," Jamie tells someone. They'll go off just right over the river."

I let you walk in front of me. I don't care about that view. I care about a different one. You turn back, sensing me.

"What?" You ask, smiling.

"Nothing." I stand next to you and pull you against me, hand clutching you just above the curve of your hip.

"Hm," you mumble. You free yourself from my grip and slink away, in the opposite direction of the flowing crowd, back toward the house.

I follow you.

Your heeled footsteps echo on the "newly redone" hardwood. Tap. Tap. Tap. Each resonates a little closer as I stalk you.

The house is empty, the hallway dark. The party outside is muffled and distant, save for the occasional laugh of a few stragglers.

You stand against the wall next to the bathroom, staring at me. Your smile is gone. Your face is hard. Your eyes tell me exactly what you're thinking.

I walk up to you. "Expecting company?"

A wave passes gently through your body in response. "Yes."

I move close to you, within an inch, without touching.

"Fireworks are about to start," I say, lowering my lips to your own, as close as possible without touching. "How long do we have?"

"Five minutes, maybe ten," you whisper.

"I'm thinking seven." I allow our lips to touch, then our chests, and finally I let you feel my hardness rubbing against your pelvis through the oh-so-thin material of your summer dress.

Seven minutes.

Seven minutes to take you.

Seven minutes to use you.

Seven minutes, all for me.

ONE

I press you against the doorframe. Our lips meet again, harder Your tongue flows against mine. We should be mindful, here in the hallway, but we're both beyond caring.

You moan, and I return your energy. You sink in submission and desire as your knees go weak, held up only by the force of my own body and arms. Slowly, carefully, you manage to force yourself back up to your full height, letting your eyes meet mine, and remain there.

I see you giving in to me. I see it in the dilatation of your pupils, the downward glances, and the heavy sigh pursing your lips into an O and an exhalation of breath.

My crotch is already wet, my pants sticky with my own arousal as I grip your hips, hard. I pull you against me as I push back, enjoying the momentum of our bodies and the way they fit together so perfectly. We savor the moment together, and then another, and another.

Outside, the show begins with thumps and thuds.

TWO

I pull you into the bathroom, leaving the lights off. I shut and lock the door. Your face and your body are shadows against the flickering of a small lit Yankee Candle in the corner.

"Vanilla scented. Fucking typical," I mumble, before turning my attention back to you. But I'm too slow. You've moved faster, backing up against the vanity and reaching down to unbuckle my belt with a skill both exquisite and still surprising.

You smirk at me as your hand pulls my pants down and my cock free. Your hand strokes me from base to head, just once. I look to the ceiling, and moan as loud as I dare. "Fuck. Me."

You stay silent, reaching down to cup my balls in your other hand, and let me see the precum you gathered on your fingers.

You take your fingers in your mouth, one by one, sucking them clean. Achingly slow. Seconds tick by in between as I let you put on your show.

Outside, someone cheers for the pretty colors.

THREE

You stroke me again, sliding your hand over the head of my cock and eliciting a growl. I've had enough. I pull up your skirt to find you naked underneath. I take your hair in my left hand, pulling your head back. You grunt in surprise, eyes wide as my right hand finds your dripping cunt.

I return the same favor you gave me, running my fingers along the hood of your clit in one long, smooth motion, then dipping them beneath the folds of your sex. Your hips buck. I look in your eyes as I clean your juices off my own fingers, savoring every drop. I let you watch, enamored, your hair still in my hands, unrelenting.

And then I let you have all of my fingers, and you gasp. I push inside you with two, and rub your clit with my palm. You gasp again. Urgent, this time. I keep the same pace, knowing how frustrated it makes you when I refuse to escalate.

I let go of your hair and pull down the shoulder straps of your dress, revealing your breasts as you lean back against the countertop. I lean in, my lips starting at your neck. Gentle at first, I feel you exhale as I hit just the right spot.

My teeth press against your skin. Just a touch at first, and then harder. I place all of my need, all of my lust, and all of my desire for your body into that one action.

I bite your neck, and you whimper.

I work my way downward with my lips, reaching the top of your breasts, returning to sensual kisses. And when I finally reach your nipples and take them between my teeth, you shake.

Outside, the sky lights up with reds and blues, faintly coloring your curves.

FOUR

That shake is more than enough for me. Now, you are finally ready. Ripe for the taking. I spin you around, facing the mirror, so that I can see the outlines of your face against the darkness. I can see your lips, your cheeks, and your eyes all saying the same thing.

"Fuck. Me."

"No. Not yet." I reach around to take your breasts in my hands as my cock slides up and down the curves of your ass, between your cheeks. "I'll let you feel my hardness, though."

"Oh God. Thank you."

I pull you backwards, straightening you up so that you can feel my breath against your ear, so that you can hear me panting for your body. My hips thrust and my cock pulses against your ass.

Outside, the show slows. The calm before the crescendo.

FIVE

"Enough of this," I whisper in your ear. "You wanna get fucked?"

"Yes," You breath.

I look into your eyes through the mirror as I enter you in one deep thrust.

"Fuck," You gasp.

My hand reaches around to grip your throat, pulling you harder against me as I push deeper and deeper into you with long, slow strokes. You try to speed us up, squirming backward against me, but I refuse you that. This is my body to use, tonight. My pleasure. My choice. My tightening grip tells you all you need to know. You fall back in sync with me.

Thrust after thrust, I savor the feeling of your tightness around me, releasing my mind to the pleasure and the feel of your body, the smell of your sex, and the sound of your moans.

My pace quickens.

Outside, the boom of fireworks intensifies.

SIX

I'm pounding you, no two ways about it. My hands are around your hips, sweat dripping from both of us. I can feel my orgasm building, but despite the intensity of the moment, it's taking too long. The show's almost over, and soon guests will start trickling back in.

There's only one solution. I slow down and pull out of you, seeing your confusion and then compression in the mirror.

"You are awfully wet," I say. "Wet enough to get my cock quite ready."

You say nothing in return. You don't need to. The tilt of your body is all I the indication I need of your readiness to have me, as I press my cock against your asshole and gently press deep inside. Your juices are more than enough lubrication. I let you have it slow at first, noticing how your moans change. They are more fearsome now, more guttural, much more like the animal that you are.

Outside, the crescendo nears.

SEVEN

The slow, sensual rhythm I allowed at first is gone. I'm thrusting harder, and deeper. My hand made its way to your mouth somehow, and you're biting down hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep from screaming as I take you, claiming your body for my pleasure.

Your ass tightens against me as you arch your back, knowing full well what it will do to me.

"Fuck," I moan into your shoulder, pressing against you and letting you hear my pleasure as I bite into you, surely leaving a mark.

I shake over and over with a powerful orgasm. My come spurts over and over again inside, marking you as you grunt in return. Your body tightens and reacts, not in orgasm but in the pleasure of submission and the gratitude of accepting the gift I've given.

And as my own shaking fades, I place my lips against your earlobe in a single tiny kiss that contains the entirety of my own love and gratitude for the gift of your body tonight.

We slowly disengage, allowing our bodies to touch as we re-dress. My hand lingers on your stomach, the small of your back, and all of my favorite parts of you. I catch your grin as your dress falls to its proper place.

"Oh!" Someone says outside, giggling. "The big climax!"

Epilogue

People migrate back into the house as we exit the bathroom, one at a time. No one notices. Or at least, they pretend not to. They're probably too drunk to notice the smell sex on us, your hair mussed, or even the mark on your neck.

On the way out, I compliment Jamie and Erin on their bathroom. They beam with pride as I see you discreetly reach down to wipe the come dripping down your thigh. We make our exit, back into the darkness, where we both belong.