Seduction (15 page)

“Now it’s your turn!” she said to the rest of us. With my hand shaking, I poured the shooter down my throat. The flame skimmed my lips, a fiery smack that awoke a distant memory of the urgent kisses you only have with a new lover. I realized at that moment I’d never have that “first-kiss” intensity again, as the hot liqueur flowed through my body, making my limbs tingle and my head swim.

Fiona poured another round and set them aflame. As I raised my glass, my friends fell silent and then began to giggle, staring at a point behind me. Before I had a chance to turn around, a deep, masculine voice from behind me boomed, “Do you need someone to put out a fire?”

I whipped around to see a tall, broad man in full fireman’s uniform, complete with yellow helmet and visor, carrying a hose in one hand. Fiona produced a CD player seemingly from nowhere, and music filled the room.

“Happy bachelorette party, Jules!” said the fireman, whose face was still obscured by his headgear. He looked tall and well built, but really, in those bulky clothes and that hat, he could have been gorgeous or hideous underneath.

“You bitch,” I hissed at Fiona. She winked at me and danced out of my way.

“Madame,” said the stripper, “that drink breaks health and safety regulations. I’m going to have to extinguish it.” Too shocked to disobey, I sat down on a chair and let him take the drink from my hand and down it.

“Hey, that was mine!” I said, making everyone laugh. The ice broken, I decided to make the best of an awkward situation and enjoy my strip-o-gram with good grace and a sense of humor.

He stood facing me, broad legs straddling my body, his crotch an inch or two away from my mouth. He smelled freshly scrubbed but the faintest traces of his own natural aroma also caught my nostrils as I inhaled. It had been literally years since I had been this close to any man but Danny; I had forgotten how overpowering and arousing a new man’s smell can be.

I closed my eyes to savor his scent, and when I opened them I found that he was sliding off his jacket. Twenty young women gasped in admiration and arousal as he revealed a strong, broad torso with a perfect six-pack and not an inch of fat. His skin was a nutty light brown color and was perfectly smooth except for a curly line of hair that scurried down from his navel to beneath his waistband, and a similar smattering beneath his underarms. Dark brown nipples topped tight pecs, but the most beautiful parts of his body were his arms. They were broad and muscular worked-out arms with prominent veins running along their length. He produced a tiny bottle of chocolate body paint from his pocket and drizzled it across his chest. Entranced, and playing the dutiful hen, of course, I put my lips to his nipples and licked the sweet chocolate liquid from his skin. I stopped just above his waistband but realized with shock that I wanted it to continue. This realization brought a flush to my cheeks at the same time that a faint pulse began to throb between my legs. What had started as a joke was fast turning into genuine, disturbing, intense desire—the kind of desire that demands gratification.

I drew away, drank from a glass of water to calm myself down. I shook my head at Fiona and mouthed the words “I’ll get you for this” at her across the room. She beamed back at me, clearly enjoying the entertainment.

Next, in one smooth swift movement, my fireman removed his trousers. I was now face-to-face with a pair of beautiful brown thighs and a red pouch, padded to give the impression of a dick bigger than anything that could ever exist in real life. He dangled his crotch so close to my face that I could see the individual hairs on his thighs. I leaned in toward them, ready to lick up the chocolate body paint on his lower abdomen.

Finally he removed his helmet, revealing a young man’s face framed by close-cropped curls. He had a broad smile, twinkly eyes, and strong brows. Now that we were making eye contact, my bravado evaporated, and I snatched my head back, suddenly shy.

The stripper would have none of it. Egged on by screaming girls, he took my hands and placed them on his washboard stomach, encouraged me to feel every perfectly defined inch of his body. He felt smooth, young, and firm underneath my fingertips. My friends giggled and cheered me on, and I hoped that they didn’t realize just how turned-on I was getting. Thank God they were there, I thought to myself as my hands clawed at the solid flesh of his buttocks. And thank God I was in public. If I were to find myself alone with this guy, there was a very real chance that I would want to take this further.

Suddenly the “fireman” grabbed my hand and held it over his pouch. I shrieked with surprise and delight. What I had assumed was padding was definitely one hundred percent human, warm, pulsating flesh. I pressed the palm of my hand against the shaft of his dick and felt it stir. I pictured his erection, huge and hard and all for me, and his balls, swelling with spunk to be shot into my face. It had been a long time since I’d had fantasies like this about a complete stranger, but then it had been a long time since I’d been so close to such a hot guy. I blushed underneath my makeup.

The song on the stereo drew to a close, signaling that my dance had come to an end.

“I think the emergency’s over,” he said with a smile, “but I’m afraid I must evacuate you from the building, just to be on the safe side,” he continued and then scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift as effortlessly as though I were a rag doll. My tits were pressed against his muscular back, my ass was over his shoulder, and my short skirt had ridden up even farther so that I could feel his breath on the top of my thighs. My hair hung down in long ropes, trailing against the back of his knees. I wondered if he liked the way it felt, silky against his skin. I wondered if that fledgling erection was growing as my legs dangled across the front of his body.

He carried me out of the room and down the corridor, as my friends laughed and took photographs. The blood rushed to my head as he kept walking, and the fluttering sensation between my legs was growing more intense, my desire becoming more insistent. He stopped at the end of the corridor. Then he sank to his knees, strong legs flexing as he gently put me down. It was all over, but my hardening nipples and the growing puddle in my panties demanded more.

“Well,” he said, “thanks for being such a good sport. It’s a rare privilege to work with such a beautiful woman. You can go back to your friends now.”

It was now or never. “Do I have to?” I said.

He saw that I was serious. “No,” he replied. “It’s your night. It’s your special night. You can do whatever you want to do.”

“What I want to do,” I murmured, taking a step toward him so that our bodies were pressed together, “is you.”

There was a door leading to a balcony behind him. He kicked it open and dragged me through. We found ourselves on a fire escape, iron stairs overlooking a deserted side street. I didn’t think of Danny, didn’t think of my friends down the corridor, didn’t think of anything but the throbbing and the moisture between my legs as my clit expanded and grew more sensitive, waiting for his touch.

He began to undress me with the same swiftness he’d removed his own clothes, sliding the spaghetti straps first over one shoulder, then the other. My breasts fell out of the built-in bra. He bent his head to my breast and began to kiss it. I leaned back against the cool brick wall and let him peel the rest of my dress off me. I was naked but for my shoes and panties.

Without warning he hooked his hands under my thighs and lifted me up, not bothering to remove my panties but pulling them to one side.

“God, you’re soaking,” he said, as his fingers made contact with the damp cotton. I wrapped my arms around his neck and crossed my ankles just above his ass. My breasts and belly brushed against his torso, my nipples rubbing against his. He fumbled with his pouch and released a quivering hard-on. I felt his dick rise up immediately, its soft, smooth tip gently poking and prodding my pussy lips. By tilting his hips a little, he angled his dick so that its tip was softly jabbing my clitoris, making my pussy twitch and quiver like a hungry mouth.

“I can’t wait,” I said, feeling that I would die if I didn’t know what his dick felt like. “I need you inside me now.”

With smooth brown fingers he parted my pussy lips and exposed my hole. His thick, fat dick was in me in seconds, stretching my cunt to its limit. Resting my head on his muscular chest, I pushed down on his hard-on with all my body weight. His pelvic bone jutted out, the tight curls of his pubic hair tickling and teasing my clitoris, sending pre-orgasmic shudders throughout my body.

He pushed up into me as I bore down on him. Our moans of pleasure were perfectly syncopated as we groaned like wild animals, both of us approaching orgasm. The sound of skin on skin echoed through the city night as my tits bounced against him and his balls slapped his thighs and my ass. I rubbed against him, harder, faster, not caring about anything but this moment. Just when I was on the verge of coming, he jabbed a finger up my ass, and it triggered the release of tension that I had been waiting for. Even as the first orgasmic waves washed over me, I pushed my fingers into his firm buttocks, greedy, wanting him deeper and deeper inside me. My climax was more intense and longer than any I’d had before, a series of tiny explosions in my body. My pussy contracted time after time, massaging his dick inside me. He came right after I did, a wordless orgasm. We stayed there for a few seconds, both getting our breath back. When he lowered me back onto the iron steps, both of us found that our legs were shaking.

We smiled at each other, both satisfied, both knowing that what we’d shared had been a thrilling, delicious quickie. I disappeared into the ladies’ room on unsteady legs. As I locked myself in the bathroom, I could hear the stripper telling my friends that I’d just gone to clean the chocolate off my face and that I’d be back in a minute. By the time I’d wiped myself clean and returned to my friends, he was gone.

Fiona gave me a hug when I rejoined the group. If she suspected what I’d just done, she said nothing about it. “Are you mad at me?” she said. “I’m sorry. I saw his picture on the website, and I just couldn’t resist.”

“No,” I said, “I’m not mad.” And I wasn’t. I felt quite the opposite. I’d never been so grateful to anyone in my life.