tagNonConsent/ReluctanceMaking A Devil Out Of Me

Making A Devil Out Of Me


"It's not that glorious," I explained to my girlfriend opposite to the restaurant table. "Being an architect makes people think of a master, who creates magazine ready buildings. In reality, only very few select architects get to create a great high rise in the Middle East. To get there, one has to be lucky by birth to have the right family connections."

"Normal architects get to work on a detail of the building, like the stairs or the sewage pipes. Last week, I got the honor of designing the entrance door. The principal architect didn't like my first design, because it didn't catch enough attention. So, I had to redo all the tensile strength calculation, go down to city hall to get the change approved. Two days later, he thought the door didn't blend in enough with the existing façade. That's another two days of redoing calculations and getting permits. That's actually been going on for a whole month. And, it's just a damn door."

"Why don't you call him on his bullshit," asked my girlfriend?

"He has to give me an eval at the end of the quarter. He must already think poorly of me to not get it right. Rent went up again. I need a good raise. He has got me by the balls. All, I can do is tough it out."

I sadly starred down my water glass. My girlfriend Candice shuffled receipts on the white cloth table. She had a big pile of receipts, spread sheets, and the check book. She was reconciling our expenses and checkbook. We had recently moved in together after we had gotten a foothold in our entry level jobs after an average college that normal people could afford. She wore plain Banana Republic khakis and a white t-shirt. And, we had our weekly routine down including the Sunday visit to our favorite burger place.

Near the kitchen entrance stood our waitress. She had trim and fit legs and belly. She wore two pig tails on the side, a tight t-shirt that pressed her boobs into round ball shapes, a skimpy pleated skirt, sneakers, and knee high, ribbed socks. Her cheerleader look was completed by her bouncy steps. She must have been fresh out of high school.

"Go ahead, you can catch an eye full. We are a pretty open minded couple, aren't we? As long as you only eat at home, you can window shop," said my girlfriend with a smile, a pencil in her mouth and another one stuck behind her ear.

I looked again. Something about watching attractive women makes my mind go happy. This invigorating smile comes on my face. My mouth gets wet like in anticipation of a good meal. Somehow just the right kind of curvature of a chest makes my limbs feel strong and invigorated. It's like an internal fountain of youth turned on.

And, I love watching her skirt from behind. It is so short that one can almost see the undercarriage, if it would sway just right. And, with every step forward, the back of her skirt leaps forward. It's like the skirt back is lapping at her butt. Each time, the fabric melts around her butt to give me the full details on her exercised butt. My eyes squint to search for the faint outline of her G-string. This is happiness.

The waitress stops, looks at her shoes, and bends over with her legs straight. Her butt is facing us directly. My heart pounds. My minds slows time down. Her hemline slowly rises bit by bit. I can almost see her butt exposed. Her private regions of her hamstrings begin showing. There! Her pink G-string is exposed. The pink mound of fabric is so small and so curved. I can barely make out the double mound of her labia.

"Stevie, that's too much. Look at me," my girlfriend demanded with panic on her face. I looked Candice in the face. She had a haircut from the $19.99 barber that evenly stepped the length around her face. Like me, she had put on a bit wait from all the studying at high school and 40+ hour weeks. Because we had become familiar with each other, her only makeup was a cheap red lipstick from CVS.

I couldn't help to steal a quick glance back at the waitress. I pretended to clean my eye and looked sharp left for a split second. I thought that the waitress had paused tying her second shoe and was starring right at me with a devious smile. Though, I am not sure, because Candice hit her flat hand on the table to force my eyes back on her.

"You are the most beautiful woman in my book," I told Candice.

She went back to her home accounting work. My thoughts drifted back to work and the endless hours that went into designing that stupid entrance door. My glance drifted through the restaurant. It was one of those dark affairs to make it more elegant. Heavy dark wooden beams gave the room a closed in feeling. The room was surrounded by old, worn leather booths. Somehow the round shapes in the upholstery cushion that the nails driven into it stuck in my memory. The rough feel of dried leather patches always brought back the memories of this place: The food, the feeling of a break, the excitement of dining.

Sharp tock-tock-tock noises ripped me out of my day dream. The waitress was behind the counter. On a wooden board, she had laid out a couple apples. In her hand was a giant, shiny, sharp chef's knife. She insecurely held the knife at the far point of the handle. The knife was raised over her head and chopped down onto an apple half hard. The apple pieces were dancing on the counter kicked to life by the chef's knife. Tock – down came the knife again aiming at a wiggling apple piece.

My heart froze terrified about the poor knife handling skills. My veins were curdling with pain of anticipation that the knife would go flying out of her little fingers, miss the wood board, or worse the handle of a cheap knife may break loose sending the sharp blade flying uncontrollably until it would dive into tender flesh. I could barely breathe and had to look away.

Candice, luckily, distracted me, "What do you think of getting a cat or a dog? It would be good practice for starting a family later. A pet needs the same consistency of daily car like a baby. It could be a practice and stepping stone to get it right with the baby. A dog needs a daily walk, food, training, and affection. And, later the dog can help us raise our child."

"That's a good strategy," I replied. "It would be good for us to get a little more exercise and go on a daily walk. I kind of like those hunting type dogs like the pointers. They seem so sleek. They are smart. And, we could take the dog on our hikes."

"I am more of a small dog person. They are easier to handle. Though, we can shop around and explore our options."

That's how we usually plan our life: Objective, short discussion and get it done. I kind of started warming up to the idea of having a dog around us soon. Rough housing a little ball of fur seemed like a fun thing. Watching that little wet, red tongue hang out of its mouth would be so cute, while it would try to keep up with me.

Just then, I noticed the teenage cheerleader waitress again. The big boss had come out. He was a big round man with a suit. He wobbled left and right as he walked. He had a little goatee to appear cooler. However, he had the goatee for so long that he had grown careless about styling it. Now, it looked like a derelict of a time, when he looked cool. He reached his arm out straight to stop the waitress.

"You can't leave middle in your shift. Plates and customers are waiting."

The waitress stepped forward and smashed her foot so hard on the ground that a deep thud echoed back from the restaurant walls. Her face distorted into a flash of anger. The sheer ugliness of it was terrifying.

"You slave driver have to give workers a five minute break every hour. I needed a smoke," yelled the waitress for everyone to hear.

The owners face became expressionless, like he didn't know what to do. Then, he had this little smile that turned into a warm giggle. It was like he had given up on his cold putting down the rules attitude. I seemed that the waitress had tickled a warm place inside of him. He seemed to actually enjoy being put in the place. He seemed to have this secret sexual desire for the hot waitress that he knew would never go anywhere, yet he loved just about any chance to experience her.

The waitress steamed away from the owner. She got the waiting plates from the metal kitchen counter. Life was back to normal in the restaurant. We got our burgers. They were delicious as always. I could have given each piece of the plate a name, because I was so familiar with them. There was exactly one crunch, sour pickle spear. The tomatoes had a combination of redness, mushiness, and flavor that was so well memorized that I could pick out these restaurants tomatoes in a blind tasting competition. Food always brings such good feelings into us. And, when we know the food, we can look forward to those feelings. My girlfriend was equally quiet and focused on her burger – quiet companionship.

When our plates were empty, we leaned back in our booth, gazed at each other, and let the food coma arrive. The waitress came. She swung right next to me on the booth bench. Because there was only a small space between the edge of the bench and me, she pressed her side against me. I could feel her hips, thighs, and torso. The body warmth immediately radiated onto my skin. The sensation of her smaller and compact body immediately triggered a primal feeling in me. Women still grow after they are eighteen. Feeling her smaller, younger body was so sexy compared to the older, more grown body of my girlfriend.

"Move over. I want to get to know my loyal customers. My name is Cat. Who are you?"

I slid deeper into the booth. Cat's body followed mine right away. She kept her side fully touching mine. Only now, she laid down her right hand to rest on my thigh – very high on my thigh. Her hand was right beneath the hip crease. My heart pounded with embarrassment. My head blushed red. My mouth started quivering, and I had to keep it shut. Her finger tips were almost touching my junk. Her hand rested over the car keys in my pocket. Her touch was so intimate. And, it was completely hidden under the long white table cloth.

Candice was eager to be metropolitan and impress that she could talk with wait staff: "Hi, I am Candice. This is Stevie. We really love coming here. And, we appreciate your service."

"That's wonderful. Actually, I am being bad. I have a very selfish reason for visiting. Your handbag looks so wonderful. Could I have a look at it?"

Candice was very proud to show off her purse. She bought pretty bland clothing usually. So, it was rare to get female appreciation. Cat lifted the brown leather purse high into the air. She turned it all over and pointed at the gold buckle. "I love that gold buckle. It's so Princess Diane." She snapped the gold buckle open. Candice lips pulled down. Yet, she didn't say anything. Cat fingered through the inside of the purse. "I like the zipper for the coins. Oh, and there is hook for the keys. Very nifty!" Candice stammered a thank you.

Cat lifted a hygiene pad out of the bag, waved it in the air, and smirked at Candice before putting it back a second later. Candice shifted in her seat and raised her hand like she wanted to say something. Cat pulled out a blue condom and cut off Candice: "Oh, you guys still use condoms. I would have thought that you are on the pill by now. You guys have been coming here together for so long."

"Hm, the pill has side effects."

"But, it feels so much better naked," gushed Cat and leaned forward like she was sharing a conspiracy.

"It feels good enough with a rubber," replied Candice breathless. "What made you become a waitress," asked Candice to change the subject.

Cat completely snapped out of the intensity of discussion. She leaned back and handed the purse back. "I never finished high school. I am pretty bad."

"No, you aren't. You got a pretty good job here. The tips must add up nicely," said Candice trying to say the right thing.

"I used to steal cars after school. With my friends, we'd just pop a window and drive off."

"But, the cops must have gotten you after a while," I asked with intense curiosity at a different kind of life that was full of thrill.

"Yeah, when the cops come, you just ditch the car and run. Sometimes you get away. Sometimes you get caught. The first time is the hardest, because you don't know what to expect. After a few times, the cops know you. They let you off easier as you become a regular. The judge can't do much, because we were underage. Now, that I am over eighteen, I can't get caught anymore or it's real prison time."

"Wow," said Candice and I in unison.

"It was nice meeting you folks. I have to get back."

"So, your name was Cat," asked Candice. "Is that Cat as in Kathryn or Katarina."

Cat was already moving around. She had this bouncy step like her sneakers had spring coils inside them. It makes her butt bounce. She turned around, so that her pig tails were flying through the air. "No, that's cat as in pussy."

Candice calmed down after the whirlwind visit. I was still enjoying the imprint of her hand on my thigh. Now, that the unpredictable girl was gone, I could fully enjoy the feeling. Candice calmed herself down by organizing the receipts and paper back into the shoe box. I still had extra blood in my penis. My penis wasn't hard by any means. It was flaccid, yet engorged into a big lump that felt nice in the hand. It reminded me to go to the bathroom.

"Honey, I will be right back."

The guy's bathroom was one of those all-in-one deals of small restaurants. It was large enough for wheel chair people. It had the urinal right next to the toilet for quick pit stops. The light was stark bright compared to the dim restaurant. A few hand papers had fallen on the floor. The toilet seat had a bit of pee crust. The urinal had the reflective shimmer of pee on the floor beneath it. The hygiene covers for the toilet seat were gone, like always. I checked the toilet paper out of habit, because it is so embarrassing to take a dump and encounter a brown skinny roll with the last white tissue pulled off. Though, I had to only go for number one this time.

While I had taken a minute with the door in my hand to survey the bathroom before committing to it, Cat had slipped in. She had taken the door handle out of my hand and closed the door. She swiftly took up the space in front of the mirror to touch up her lip stick.

"Cat, this is the guy's bathroom."

"Don't be so uptight Stevie. The women's bathroom is occupied and I have only a moment to touch up my make-up. Go ahead. I won't look."

Cat seemed really focused on her make-up. So, I kind of chanced it by silently standing next to her at the urinal. I only slipped open the zipper instead of opening the pant. I fingered for my penis in the depth of my pants and pulled it out. While I starred at the urinal and where the stream hit a painted-on fly to stay in my own private space, I stole a few glances on the floor to see her sneakers and calves. I have a secret foot fetish thing. Cat's rapid noises suggested that I was getting away with my glances, because she was rushing to get her make-up done before the boss noticed.

Then, there was a pause in her movements. I got the sickening feeling of being starred up. I didn't dare looking, because looking at someone else, let alone a hot cheerleader waitress, while holding a peeing cock in your hand, was so uncomfortable. Yet, the pregnant silence worried me more. And, I looked. To my shock, Cat's eyes were full on staring over her side and onto my wiener. Her face was flushed with curiosity and excitement. She seemed to have fun at being daring. I was midstream. I could not stop. And, putting a peeing penis back in my pants would be pretty stupid. I was helplessly caught.

"Oh, that's what your penis looks like. It's no big deal," and Cat laughed out loud. "You men look so manly, when you hold your junk. Here, watch this."

Cat pulled down her t-shirt and bra to expose her juicy, ball like, big breast. They were so perky, in shape, and in complete defiance of gravity. I gazed at her pink areola. I took in the details of her soft round nipples. My heart sunk down in shock. My mind was feverishly trying to capture every moment of this lucky event. My conscience worried about my girlfriend. I was only looking.

"Haha, it's not like I haven't seen a cock before. It's not like you haven't seen boobs before. Although, this set is a designer set. It cost ten thousand dollars. You gotta feel 'em. Don't be shy."

My mind was playing catch up. Earlier this week, I had been in the dullest mind space of pushing through the day. All I had told me was 'showing up is 90% of success.' And, once I was at work, I kind of had to move the project forward. And, now I was in this high octane situation that required quick response and offered unreal benefits.

Her hand had already grabbed mine and placed it on her boob. The skin felt so tender, delicate, and young. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. Though, I tried to rationalize, that nowadays everyone has a boob job. And, comparing them has become a normal thing. I knew, it was wrong, because Candice didn't have one.

I was still holding my penis with one hand. The other hand was on Cat's boob. It just felt wrong to be that intimate. My mind felt like a panther galloping over the prairie with an intense drive to catch the jackpot o the month. My conscience felt like a donkey that didn't want to move with carrots or sticks. Somewhere, I was stuck between the two. And, a boner grew silently in my hand. Even without her exposed boobs, just her juicy body would have raised a boner.

"You touched mine. Now, I get to touch yours."

Her hands reached for my erect penis. Ever since elementary school, I had the fasted raising penis. I had won every bathroom contest in high school about who can get fully erect the fastest. It was something like 30 seconds from limp to rock hard. Her hands did a trick on my mind. My mind was fully sexualized and only thinking about getting more sexual touches. Her small fingers explored my penis. Her investigative fondling was more arousing than outright rubbing. It was so ticklish and sensitive.

"Okay, come on now," slipped out of my mouth to make her stop.

"Oh, wow, you are really encouraging."

"No, I don't mean it like that, more like stop."

Her lips were already on my penis. Those wet and full lips were touching around my penis opening. They glided over my penis head and down the shaft. Her hot, wet mouth felt so delicious. However, the intense sensual reaction inside of my body was even stronger. I sucked in the air deeply. My mind went completely blank, then black, and finally filled with warm colors and shapes. My conscience was very clear that I had to stop her forcefully, because I was cheating on my girlfriend. However, the lusty panther in me wanted one more stroke. What's the difference between one more stroke and ahh... it felt so good. It felt so happy. Would it be worth it to break up with Candice for this little bit of heaven?

Cat slurped on my penis, when she pulled back. Her eyes looked up big at me and deeply into mine. Her lips were pulled around my cock. Her mouth looked round and pulled forward as if she was wearing one of those gas masks that dangle a long snout down the chest. Her boobs were still dangling outside. The whole mental turn on of cheerleader and that cock sucking face had me on explosive sexual edge. Any second, I could blow a load in her. I hate to be that fast. That's why I usually take things really slow with Candice. Though, I never get to experience this raw high throttle passion.

The door handle clicked down. I panicked. Cat had not locked the bathroom. After all, she had only planned on putting on makeup Candice yell-mumbled with my cock deep in her mouth. She had not need for properness. "Maintenance – bathroom is closed." The slightly ajar door withdrew again.

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bycowboy109© 10 comments/ 54729 views/ 18 favorites

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