You sure are a treat to look at
“You sure are a treat to look at.”
Anya rolled her eyes, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "That's quite a bold statement," she replied, glancing away from the man with the perfectly chiselled jawline who reeked of Old Spice.
Undeterred, he continued to appraise her with unabashed admiration, his eyes never leaving hers. "What is?" he asked, his voice laced with a confident charm.
"The audacity!" Anya exclaimed, her annoyance growing. "Just because you have a perfectly sculpted jawline and smell like a walking advertisement for Old Spice doesn't give you the right to objectify women."
The man, undeterred by Anya's annoyance, stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them. Anya felt a surge of anger mixed with a strange sense of anticipation. As he leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek, she instinctively raised a hand to push him away.
However, before she could make contact, his fingers gently touched the tips of hers. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a spark of sexual energy that she couldn't ignore. Anya felt a connection to this stranger, a connection that had been building since their first encounter at the bookstore last Saturday.
Despite her initial annoyance, Anya found herself drawn to him, captivated by his intensity and his unwavering gaze. The line between anger and desire blurred, leaving her confused and intrigued.
Before she knew it, Anya’s lips were locked in the most sensual kiss. He bit her lower lip while gently running his hands from her neck to the hollow of her shoulder blade and down to her breasts. Anya felt a surge of excitement as he cupped her face and deepened the kiss. Her nipples hardened and the excitement rose as she guided his hand to the hollow of her back from where he ran them down to her inner thigh. She responded with equal intensity, her body trembling with anticipation.
With an abrupt but decisive motion, he teared away from her and started walking backwards, past the wooden bookshelves, while tracing all of Anya’s body with his eyes. It was like he was teasing her. Anya was so high on this perfect stranger that she could feel her pussy getting wetter by the minute. Her body started craving him to be inside her and how. He fondled her from afar and something in his gaze made her tremble and trace her way towards him.
Settings changed quickly and emotions flew like sparks from a fire burning. They found themselves in the closest shut space which was the janitor’s closet. Giving her no time to make sense of what was happening, the stranger pressed her against the wall, pulled up her skirt. She was not wearing panties. He groaned and rode her like there was no end to this passion that had engulfed these two “strangers”. He grunted and pounded into her as she asked for more.
“How does that feel?” He whispered into her ears.
“Oh God, oh, great! Just great! Please don’t stop.”
He covered her mouth with her hand, squeezed his body tighter onto her and continued to make all their horny dreams come true.
Captivated by his moves and carasses, she kept asking herself if she had already orgasm-ed more than once since he first kissed her. She didn’t care for the answer. She had never felt so good ever before. So, she couldn’t help but ask him for more.
“You dirty bitch, you want more? Say it and I’m going the fuck the hell out of you.”
Anya always prided herself as Ms.Goody two-shoes but was surprised to discover a new side of herself. The stranger ignited a spark within her that she hadn't known existed. The dirtier he talked to her, the wetter she got. She didn’t want him to stop.
The more Anya resigned herself to him, the harder his penis became.
Maybe someone even knocked at the door but they couldn't hear anything beyond the sound of their awesome encounter.
Oh but then they heard it. The loud banging on the door. They still didn’t (read: couldn’t) stop. His hand felt so warm and wet against her nipples and their eyes silently begged each other not to stop.
As they slowly pulled away from each other, Anya and the man gathered their clothing, carefully rearranging them back onto themselves.
Then, he composed himself and opened the door.
“Oh, Sir. Good afternoon, Mister Ray.” The janitor greeted him with absolute civility but there was no hiding the confusion that she tried very hard to hide.
He wished her well and started walking towards the main door. As the stranger walked away from Anya, their eyes met again. A loud sexual energy lingered between them, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment they had just experienced. The arousal and yearning to tear off each other's clothes was still very much there as Anya felt something in her jacket pocket. Her hand reached out and out came a promise of more fabulous times to come– a bullet pocket vibrator.