Read Audience Appreciation Online
Authors: Laurel Adams
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Short Stories & Anthologies, #Short Stories, #Single Authors, #Romance
That's when he leaned over and started kissing me. I knew it was wrong. I knew all of this was wrong. But that kiss kept me from screaming. And, it was also electric. He kissed differently than any guy I'd ever kissed before. His lips were firm and demanding and completely assured. And I knew I should stop him; I had a boyfriend. I shouldn't be kissing anyone, much less a stranger. But considering that I'd already stroked his cock and let him watch me masturbate, it seemed like a pointless technicality now...
In any case I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. He didn't let me. I was recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm and this man was devouring me in his kiss. His hands went up under my shirt, and I didn't stop him. I didn't even stop him when his fingers slipped under my bra and his thumbs flicked at my nipples. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and when he finally broke apart for a breath, I was shaking all over. I was letting this stranger kiss me and touch me, and I couldn't stop...
"God that was so fucking hot," he said, nipping at my earlobe. "You're fucking hot. You're beautiful."
I was shy and soft now as I was never shy and soft.
"You liked doing that for me didn't you?" he whispered.
I nodded dumbly, and could not disagree.
"But you want more," he said. "You want to do more for me."
I shook my head no, but he didn't believe me. "Yes you do. You don't want to say so, but you do, and that's okay. I don't need you to say it. All you have to do is nod and I'll make you do more. Much more."
And as if I was dreaming, I nodded.
I wanted more kissing, more touching, more coming. And the fact that he was a stranger only made me want it more. When I nodded, admitting it, he exhaled so sharply it was as if I had struck him. "Then do what I tell you," he whispered, his fingers now tugging at my nipples. "Keep rubbing your pussy. I want you to come again, only this time I'm going to help you."
Oh god, I couldn't let him do that. I didn't mean to let him kiss me or feel my breasts. That had just kind of happened.
But I couldn't let him play with my pussy, so I heard myself let out a little sob. "No."
He stifled my protest by kissing me again—hard. I felt trapped and overwhelmed, and I couldn't hear myself think due to the heartbeat crashing in my ears. His hand slipped under my jeans into my panties where he found me soaking wet. He groaned, as if startled by it, even though he'd just seen me masturbate. I tried to pull my wet fingers out from beneath his, but he wouldn't let me, this time pushing down with all his strength and guiding my hand in an awkward rhythm. I was oversensitive, having just climaxed. The sensations were too intense to be pleasurable. But it was too naughty. It was too hot. I moaned into his kisses, and I realized that our movements were growing more careless.
We were being too loud. We might be overheard.
"You're going to come for me again," he whispered, working my nipples and grinding his hardness against my thigh. "Come for me," he said, over and over into my ear, our fingers grinding together over my clit and making me feel helpless. I mentally fought back the orgasm that was coming. But I didn't know who I was fighting.
I think I was fighting myself.
My hair was matting at my temples from the effort, until finally I started pumping my hips against his hand and mine. His voice was a sweet whisper of encouragement in the darkness, and it pulled from me every emotion. When I came, this time, I let out a cry, which he stifled by putting his hand over my mouth.
I screamed into the stranger's hand. He smiled and kissed my forehead as I started to calm down. Panting, sweaty, and overwrought, I went limp in his arms. He lifted my wet fingers to my lips and tried to push them into my mouth. I didn't want that, and shook my head, but he whispered, "I want to see you do it. I want to see you suck the juices off of your fingers."
For some reason that I couldn't explain, I wanted what he wanted.
So I sucked them clean, letting the salty taste roll over my tongue.
He seemed pleased. In fact, his pleasure rippled through me so powerfully that I couldn't resist when he took my hand and brought it again to his pants. He was so hard.
He started using my hand to rub himself the way he'd forced me to rub my own clit. I didn't struggle this time. I didn't struggle when he tangled his hand in my hair and brought my mouth to his either. The way he kissed made my knees weak, so I didn't struggle when he started pulling my head down to his neck either, and then to his chest.
But when I realized he was forcing my head into his lap, I did struggle. It was one thing to hide naughty fingers under a coat. It was quite another to give a blow job in a semi-public place. I didn't even know him. But then it hadn't mattered how well I'd known him when I was crying out into his hand moments ago...
Still, I'd let this go too far already. I had to stop it now. "No."
He ignored me, unzipping himself with one hand while his hand firmly fastened at the back of my neck to force me down on his cock. "I helped you get off twice. Now it's my turn."
"Stop!" I hissed, digging into his thighs, denim under my nails.
But he didn't stop. "You're going to suck me, even if I have to make you. But I don't have to make you do it, because you want to."
Oh god. That made me both afraid and ashamed. Then, there it was. He showed me the swollen purple head of his cock. It was thick and rigid and my mouth watered to taste him. "You want to," he said again, more gently, bringing it close to my lips.
Oh, I wanted to taste him so badly that it took all my energy not to slide my lips over the head of him and take him all the way to the back of my throat in one stroke. But I'd already kissed him and let him watch me masturbate—two things I could never tell my boyfriend. I was just starting to come to my senses when the stranger thrust his hips up at my face, his pre-cum smearing on my cheek.
He was right. I did want to. It was just head, I told myself. It wasn't like I was fucking a stranger. I was just sucking him off. And all at once, my resistance faded away. I relented. I just opened my mouth and let him push his cock in. He was clean tasting and hot and hard. He tasted so good that I moaned around his shaft. With my mouth still on him, I knelt in front of him on the floor. Then he draped my coat over me to keep anyone from seeing.
Truthfully, I'd lost the will to care who caught us now.
His grip tightened on my hair to the point that it hurt, guiding my head so that I would suck him just the way he wanted. He looked down at me, and as we passed a streetlight I saw his eyes lock on mine. I knew he could see me, darkness or no, with my mouth held wide open around his shaft.
He let out a quiet groan. "You're a fantastic cock-sucker."
It embarrassed me, made me angry, and excited me. He thrust into my mouth, unmindful of anything but getting off, and his doing that made me crazy. I thought about how I must look to him now. I thought about what I must seem like to him. The kind of girl he must have thought I was...the kind of girl I felt like. I couldn't help myself; I ground against his leg with my pelvis and eventually put my hand back into my panties, wanting to get off again.
He noticed, and startled. Lifting the coat up to look at me, with my mouth full of him, he asked, "This turns you on, doesn't it, baby? Having my cock in your mouth makes you want to come again." He thumped the back of his head lightly against the seat as if I had admitted something intensely pleasurable or tragic. His grip loosened on my hair and his hand stroked my cheek before it returned to the base of my neck. "How many times do you want to come tonight?"
What kind of question was that? I felt like I was on fire. It seemed that the more times I came the more times I wanted to. I was at a desperately slutty point, and at a loss for words, I didn't answer. I just sucked him. But he stopped me. "Answer my question. How many times?"
He couldn't seriously expect an answer! My cheeks flamed, though I didn't even know that I could feel more embarrassment than I already was feeling. Searching for some sort of coherent answer, when all I wanted was to get his cock back into my mouth, I said, "A lot of times."
"Ten times?" he whispered, and his cockhead so near my mouth. It felt like torture that he wouldn't let me suck it!
I gave a small nervous nod.
I looked away, feeling like a total nympho.
He leaned forward and chuckled. "Suck me."
I was so happy to have his cock head push through my lips again. I was frantic for it. Though he had a kind of controlled, refined manner, I knew that the suction of my lips was having an effect on him. He angled his hips toward my face a few times, and I could feel him pulsing in my mouth. The occasional passing light through the tinted coach windows illuminated my face for him.
The wantonness of what I was doing made it certain that I had to keep playing with myself. I loved the idea of coming with his cock in my mouth, and I rubbed myself, even as I felt him pushing a little too far into my throat, gagging me slightly. He must have seen the desperation on my face, because, he whispered, "Are you going to come for me with my cock in your mouth, you good little slut?"
I didn't have to answer, because I just started a muffled scream with my orgasm.
It was the third time I'd come in close proximity and I was getting dizzy. I let the vibrations of my scream dance up and down his shaft. And while my own orgasm was ripping through me, he grunted once, and I could feel him filling my mouth. I wanted to pull away, but his sperm blasting against my cheeks was making me come that much harder.
Plus, he wasn't going to let me pull away if I'd tried. He held my mouth tight on him, my nostrils flaring wildly for breath, until I had swallowed every bit. Then, and only then, did he let his grip on my hair loosen.
I had loved swallowing a stranger's cum and he knew it.
"Put on your coat," he told me.
I was confused, and dazed, but I was growing accustomed to listening to him. I liked listening to him. So I put my coat back on and sat up in the seat next to him.
"Now go into the bathroom at the back of the bus. Take off everything you're wearing except for your coat, and then come back here," he whispered.
My eyes grew wide and incredulous as I hissed, "No way!"
But then, with a deadly calm, he looked at me and said, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Because I'm going to give you everything you want tonight...and more."
LEARNING TO LIKE IT
How had I gotten myself into this?
Hiding in the bathroom of a strip joint, wearing a dress that showed more skin than I'd ever shown in public, my pulse raced with excitement and fear.
At nineteen, I was younger than my boyfriend and his friends. They were all in their late twenties and always joking about my inexperience. Patrick was my first serious boyfriend, and even with him, it'd been strictly missionary position with the lights out. Having been raised in a strict Asian household, even
had seemed taboo to do before marriage. In truth, I had a hard time even
about anything sexual without blushing, which delighted my friends endlessly.
They liked to tease me—and Chad only encouraged them. So when I made a smart-assed remark that I could take whatever they dished out, their jokes about my innocence became a dare. "Think you're brave enough to join us at an adult entertainment establishment?" my boyfriend had asked. "I dare you to put a dollar bill into the g-string of a stripper."
"Sure," I'd said, envisioning Chippendale dancers ripping off faux fireman coats, but my boyfriend insisted that we go see girls instead!
The day of the big event, our friend Lanie put me into a black strapless mini-dress, black stilettos, and thigh high stockings. It was like playing dress up and seemed fun at the time. It made me feel grown up and sexy. Importantly, they weren't
clothes, so, in a way, it made me feel as if I were in a costume; as if I weren't quite myself.
I was used to seeing myself in jogging pants and a halter-top, so I barely recognized the girl I saw in the bathroom mirror now. The bright red lipstick that Lanie had picked for me stood out obscenely against my dark Asian coloring.
It's not too late to back out
, I thought.
The strip-club bathroom had a window and I had the absurd urge to climb out and run away. Of course, that wouldn't be smart even if I could squeeze my mini-dress clad-ass out that window and manage not to break an ankle in the stilettos. We'd come to a seedy part of town.
Maybe even the seediest in town. That had been intentional. My boyfriend said there was no point in exploitation unless it was good and smutty. We were a mixed group, and that seemed to make the girls and the patrons uncomfortable when we first arrived. But after we'd put enough money down on the table, and showed the strippers our enthusiastic support, they warmed up to us.
Lanie and Chad paid one girl so many dollar bills that she ended up splaying herself right in front of us at the table.
That's when it happened.
She lifted her hips, pulled her panties off, and pumped her hips up at us. She'd shaved her pubic mound and put some sparkles on it too.
, Lanie called it.
I'd barely even looked at my own private parts in a mirror before and now this girl was less than two feet away from me, showing hers off to everyone. I admit, clutching the dollar I'd been dared to put in her g-string, I stared in fascination. Maybe I stared too hard, because, quite suddenly, the girl took her legs and threw them over my shoulders.
I gasped, trying to pull away, but my boyfriend was right behind me, his rock-hard body giving me no room for retreat. While our friends cheered, the stripper spread her pussy lips apart with her fingers and I gasped again. Nestled between the stripper's sparkly pink folds was a little ring. "That's a clit hood piercing," my boyfriend whispered in my ear, low and husky. It obviously turned him on, and I worried for the thousandth time that I was too innocent for him. I wasn't pierced anywhere; I couldn't imagine doing it…