IRE Scoville Scale: Fire and Ice

Having sex in public isn’t my ideal first date, but I sensed Dylan wasn’t the average man; as such he required extra attention. Tall, muscled, brilliant blue eyes: the picture of masculinity. But there was something in his mannerisms, something in his eyes said I could have him anyway I pleased. Suffice to say, I planned on doing just that.

Dylan, an excellent conversationalist, was mid sentence when I stood and walked out onto the balcony. My abrupt departure undoubtedly baffled him. However, I knew instinctively that if he followed he was mine.

The night was unseasonably warm; music and laughter from the filled the night air. I looked down at the inky black city below and seconds later, I heard the swish of the siding glass door closing, muting the noise within. Dylan stepped behind me—without turning around, I knew it was him. He’d followed me—he was mine.

“Did I say something wrong?” He snaked his arms around my trim waist and held me gently against him.

“No,” My controlled tone didn’t betray the affect his embrace had on my pussy. Damn, he made me wet!

“Then why did you leave?” He turned me in his arms and searched my face for an explanation.

One finger on his chin, I lowered his head and brushed my lips over his. “Do you want me?” I whispered.

“Yes. He nodded, almost afraid to speak.

“Will you trust me?” I eased my hand between their bodies and stroked his cock through his pants.

The question gave him pause. There was something sexy about a man—a real man, not a sissy-boy pausing but ultimately surrendering control. Dylan was one hundred percent man. In another situation, he was an alpha—in my hands, however, he was going to be anything I wanted him to be.

“Trust me, Dylan, I give you what you want.” I nibbled his lower lip. “Do exactly as I say, my dear, and I’ll satisfy you in ways you’ve never imagined.” Still in his arms, I stepped up and sat on the ledge overlooking the six storey death drop below. The shock in his eyes brought a smile to my face. Men. Even with him standing between my bare legs, with the length of his hard cock pressed between us, he was still a gentleman.

“What are you doing?”

I lifted his chin and seductively said into his eyes, “You’re going to finger my pussy until I cum.” I taste his lips. “Then we’re going to your place and I’m going to fuck every drop of cum from your body.”

What crossed his face next was: shock, awe, and resolve. His breath caught as he watched me lift the hem of my dress just over my knee. I kissed lips until they parted and sucked his tongue, and moved his right hand under my dress. He purred, rubbing my inner thigh, then reality set in.

“Someone may see.”

“Sshhh,” My lips curled devilishly, “Speak when spoken too, darling.” I urged his hand higher and almost came when his fingertips touch the sheer fabric covering my pussy. I rubbed up and down his cock. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.” he conceded.

“Am I wet?”

“Soaking wet.” He pulled me closer, widening my legs impossibly far.

“I want you to touch me, suck your finger, then kiss me. I want to taste myself on your tongue.”

I felt his heart pounding against mine. His fingers moved under the trim of my panties, then pushed the material aside.

“That’s it.” I blinked back tears when he touched my clit softly. “Tease me.” My hand tightened around his shaft. He parted my lips, slowly working one finger into my pussy. His thumb rubbed my clit. “Dylan, just like that. Don’t stop.” I watched the partygoers moving about inside—the sheer curtain and glass door separated us. My moaning became uncontrollable while his turned into the repeated gasp of my name—begging me to cum—begging to please me. “Enough,” My orgasm barreled down on me, I had to stop him. “Let me taste it.”

He raised his finger to his mouth, and licked it clean.

“Come here,” I pulled his mouth to mine, claiming his tongue. “Finger me.” I paused for breath and moan sharply as he reentered me. My hips rocked against the fingers between my legs. The muted voices of the party guests and the soft sucking sounds of my pussy swirled around us.

“Cum for me.” Dylan groaned into my mouth. He pushed a third finger inside, withdrew, then thrust. His thumb worked my clit just enough to make me whimper.

My pussy clenched around his fingers, my belly quivered. “Don’t stop. I’m close…so…oh fuck, I’m cumming.” I gritted my teeth, trying desperately not to call attention us.

Dylan watched my orgasm overtake me. He didn’t break my gaze until the last threads of pleasure snapped sending me shuddering and trembling back to reality. He pulled his hand free, licked his fingers, and kissed me deeply. Time seemed to slip back without either of us caring. Then I felt his lips form a gentle smile—I gave him two short pecks and asked what he found so amusing.

“I’m out of condoms,” he said shyly. “We’ll have to make a stop.”

“Oh dearest, let me explain. You belong to me now. I’ve claimed you.” I gave him the look parents give kids when their goldfish dies. “Your cum goes here…” I sucked his index finger. “…and here.” I eased his finger into my pussy. “Any questions?”