Libations

by Penelope L'Amoreaux

  Victor had taken her out to eat, complimenting her hair and her dress on the way to the restaurant. It had been small and the menu had had no prices--Miranda knew that meant it was out of her pay grade. Miranda’s mind had kept panicking, wondering why this man was being so nice to a plump girl in an inappropriate dress. Her body, on the other hand, had been warming up, strumming for touch and attention.

  While there, Victor had introduced her to wine. He ordered a bottle of something French and that had clearly impressed the waiter. Miranda had watched as the waiter uncorked the bottle in front of him. She had felt hot watching Victor, seeing the attention he paid the deep red liquid. The way his eyes had closed when he sniffed it. The way his hands caressed the glass as he swirled it. She had wanted to jump in his lap when he had swirled the first taste in his mouth, the pleasure had been so evident on his face.

  Watching him drink had been so erotic that she had known then and there she would agree to anything he would ask of her. Miranda had gulped in desire as she had when Victor’s Adam’s apple had bobbed with that first slow, sensual slip of wine. She hadn’t been a big drinker before, but now she thought she understood a little more about his enthusiasm for the fermented grapes.

  The rich color matched her cheeks during dinner as Victor has spoken to her in a low, lusty voice. The rich, velvet feel of the wine in her mouth had made her crave swirling her tongue around the velvety skin of his cock.

  Miranda had tried several wine selections at Victor’s suggestion. They had been perfect, of course. They could have been seven dollars and form a gas station, though. What Miranda had really wanted was the man at the table with her. She had been with bland and boring for years. Not mature enough? Sweetheart, Victor had maturity in spades, and he looked at her like a prize, like he had looked at that first glass of wine.

  She had been able to see the lust in his eyes as they had eaten. Instead of being embarrassed, she had encouraged it. Miranda remembered leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table in such a way that her breasts were pressed out and together. She had licked her fork slowly after every delicious bite.

  With actions as well as words, he had propositioned her by the end of the night. And she had accepted.

  Victor had taken Miranda to a swanky hotel. The concierge had obviously been familiar with the mysterious and sexy man. Maybe Miranda should have been concerned about that, but in reality she had felt relieved. Victor had seemed to know what he was doing--she most certainly was unsure of her own actions--and seeing that probable wink from the doorman sealed in her anticipation. He did this a lot, and she had just known he would be fucking splendid.

  Once they were in the elevator he had leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Take off your panties. Put them in my pocket.”

  Miranda had tried to stifle her moan, but it escaped as she shimmied out of her fanciest lace thong. Balling it up, she had moved to put it in his pocket. Her hand had brushed a rigid, large cock and then there was no suppressing her gasp of pleasure.

  While the lights of floors were lighting as they had risen, Miranda had waited for Victor to pounce on her. He had maintained a little distance, though, his hand in his pocket, thumbing her panties.

  When the last light dinged, the doors had opened to the penthouse. Miranda had known from dinner that Victor was wealthy, but she had not understood how wealthy. Plump girls like her did not pick up rich, handsome men. Miranda had not been sure of herself in that moment, that is until Victor slammed the door behind them and quickly pushed her against it.

  “You’ll have to tell me when to stop,” he had murmured into her neck while his hand traced the outline of her breast over her dress.

  “Never. You can have anything you want of me.” Miranda had not been sure of what would make her stop; she only knew she had hoped Victor never would.

  He had reached his hands into her hair, fisting her fresh locks at the back and pulling her into his hungry mouth. His kiss had been violent and she had relented to his storm, his tongue fiercely possessing her. Moaning he had quickly undressed her. When she had stood naked before him, Victor had growled his approval.

  Miranda had been so wet, leaning against the cold door and panting with need. However, when she had reached out to begin undressing Victor, he had slapped her hand--hard. She had quickly brought it to her mouth, kissing the stinging skin.

  “You do not touch me unless I tell you to.” Victor had reached up and begun to untie his fashionable silk tie.

  “Why? I’m so hot now. I want to touch you.” She had begun to reach out again but saw his hand move to strike her. Quickly she had withdrawn.

  “Patience, Blue.” He had referred to her dress. Though he knew her name, he had used a nickname. She had known then that this would be their only night together, a heady glass of wine, a stranger fuck. She had relished the idea--somehow the knowledge had made her hotter, her pussy juices dripping down her inner thigh.

  After Victor had removed his tie and dinner jacket, he had held out his hand to her. Tentatively she took it. He had led her by the hand toward the large window wall. The hanging blinds had been closed.

  When they had almost reached the window Victor had stopped her.

  “Open the blinds,” he demanded.

  She had balked. “Victor, I can’t. People would be able to see us!”

  His brown eyes had turned to steel. “Open them.” There had been a low threat to his voice. For just a moment, Miranda had wondered if she should leave. Sex she had agreed to. Showing the world her nakedness, her curved hips and dimpled thighs, had not factored into her plans.

  And yet she had slowly moved toward the blinds, her hands reaching for their string chain. She had glanced at him, hoping he would change his mind and take her to bed like a normal one night stand.

  He had simply been waiting, eyes intent on the string pull.

  Miranda had opened the blinds, moaning in trepidation and desire. The city opened before and below her. The penthouse was on the fifty third floor, towering over most of the city. The night sky had loomed above her and the twinkling lights of the city sparkled below. There had been a chill coming from the glass, cooling her. Her rosy nipples hardened to a pleasant ache.

  “Turn around. Face me.”

  She had faced him, her bare back and bottom pressed against the cold glass.

  “Spread your legs.” She had. If there had been any resistance in Miranda, she had left it with that first glass of wine, she realized. She had gone to town wanting something new and exciting. Victor had known, somehow, finding her in a sea of women, knowing he would be able to do whatever he wished with this fresh and raw woman.

  She had stood, spread before the enormous window, watching as Victor came and knelt before her. Miranda had let loose a howl, a wild moan, when his tongue found her snatch. With the expertise that comes from studying many pussies, he licked her, sucked her until her knees were weak and her voice was singing his praise in a chorus of pleasure groans.

  When she had thought to collapse, Victor had pushed two fingers into her sopping hole, filling her. His fingers moved inside of her and she came, shuddering against the window, her skin erupting in goose bumps from the duality of cold glass and hot orgasm.

  Victor had stood, wiping her pussy’s juices from his face while she shuddered and twitched. She had felt more vulnerable then than when she had opened the window, for he was still dressed and she realized she was a naked, trembling mess in front of him and the whole world.

  He hadn’t been through with her.

  “Take off my belt.”

  She had, her fingers struggling with the fine Italian leather. When she had pulled it from the final loop, he had held out his hand. She had hesitated before giving it to him.

  “What?” He had demanded.

  “Are...are you going to hit me with that?” She had whispered, terrified of asking, even more fearful of his answer.

  “I hadn’t planned on it. Do you want me to?” He had seemed,
for the moment, genuinely curious. Because of his surprise, Miranda had thought about it, carefully.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Victor had laughed then, a delightful and full-bodied laugh with just a hint of cruelty. “Ok, Blue. No belt. Now unzip me and suck my cock.”

  Head spinning with his moods and demands, Miranda had dropped to her knees. As she pulled his zipper down, she had realized he wore no underwear. His thick, monstrous cock sprang out at her, veins twitching, eager for her mouth.

  Miranda had tried sucking her ex’s cock, but had taken little joy from it. Victor’s cock, though, was beautiful and she had eagerly wrapped her mouth around it. She had taken joy out of the gasps and moans she could elicit from Victor with a swish of the tongue or a twist of her hand.

  She had savored the velvet feel of his skin in her mouth and the slow slide of tongue on hard flesh. His hands had fisted in her hair, his hips had begun to pump in and out. Miranda had tried to keep up with him, but he dominated her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. Miranda had gasped and gagged as Victor fucked her mouth, but while she struggled her pussy had become damp all over, her clit had swollen and ached.

  When she had thought she couldn’t take anymore of his cock in her throat, Victor had cried out and withdrawn quickly, his hand grasping his dick roughly and pumping a few quick times. He had come, his hot white semen spraying Miranda’s raw mouth and cheeks. No man had used her mouth like that before, and her pussy ached with need even as his come dripped down her face.

  Victor had grabbed her hair and pulled her to standing. His chest was heaving but he was still hard.

  “Turn around,” he had commanded. When Miranda did, he pushed her against the glass. Her face pressed against the cold surface, his semen smearing.

  She had felt him move behind her, pressing her into the glass even harder. Somewhere in her mind she had wondered what she must look like to the people below, her giant breasts pressed up and like dinner plates, her fleshy thighs quivering as a mysterious man pressed behind her.

  Miranda had cried out at the image, surrendering to it. Victor had pulled her hips back a bit and pushed his hard cock into her, slamming her into the glass again. Miranda’s forearms had braced, her tits hanging, Victor’s fingers digging into her hips as he began to move in and out of her sopping snatch.

  “Do you know how many people are watching us right now?” He pounded into her with every syllable.

  No, she didn’t know. She didn’t care anymore. Miranda hoped it was a hundred people, a thousand people watched her get fucked. Victor’s fingers gripped her to the point of pain and she rejoiced. Her pussy felt full and throbbed as he slammed into her over and over. Her hanging breasts swung and slapped, beating out the rhythm of their lust.

  Victor stepped forward, forcing her up against the glass more. One of his strong hands released her hip and slid under her thigh, lifting a leg. Suddenly her pussy felt even tighter, fuller. Miranda struggled with her balance on one foot, but Victor held her steady with his lifting hand pulling her bent leg even higher and his other hand anchoring her hip.

  Faster he fucked her as she cried out over and over. She snuck a hand between her legs and she began to furiously rub her clit.

  Miranda’s orgasm rocked her, violent and rough, her pussy walls clenching around Victor. He moaned and came with her, pushing into her slower and slower until their climaxes subsided.

  He pulled out, letting her crumple in front of a city where someone, somewhere, had probably witnessed their perverse activities. Miranda didn’t feel ashamed. She was surprised to find she felt proud.

  There was a rustling noise behind her. Too exhausted to stand, she turned and saw Victor pulling on his coat and draping his tie around his neck.

  “This room is paid for through tonight. Please help yourself to anything.”

  Miranda’s hand went up and shyly moved through her hair. She had forgotten the cut earlier and found herself surprised at its shorter length. “Should I give you my number?”

  Victor laughed. “Would you like to?”

  He asked in the same curious tone he had used when she thought he might whip her.

  “No, I don’t think I do.”

  This answer seemed to please him, but it pleased her more. She truly didn’t. She still ached and throbbed all over. Miranda wanted to let the experience wind its way into her memories and then return to her normal life.

  Victor smiled one last time at her, opening the door. “Have a good night, Blue. It was a pleasure.” With that, he left.

  Miranda fell asleep where she was, naked and sated in front of the large window.

  Later, she woke and stretched stiff muscles, the chill from the glass making her nipples hard. Standing, she took one last look at the city in the early morning, sprawled before her. She could see her reflection in the smooth window surface. Her perfect hair was mussed and she loved it. Her lips looked swollen from kissing and Victor’s cock. Miranda thought she looked magnificent and certainly more mature than some recent acquaintances had given her credit for.

  Just as she was wrapping the hotel’s fluffy cotton robe around her, there was a knock at the door.

  “Room service,” a young voice called out. Miranda hadn’t ordered room service. Curious, she opened the door.

  In the hall a young man in the hotel’s suit held out a bottle of wine with a ribbon around the neck. The ribbon was the exact color of her dress.

  “It came with a message, Miss.”

  Miranda looked at him with a raised eyebrow, curious what Victor (it had to be) wished to pass on that he hadn’t already given her.

  The young man was nervous, blushing and looking at his feet as he stumbled through it.

  “Blue--you were an indulgence of the best kind. Thank you for letting me taste you. Taste this and remember me. Victor.”

  About The Author

  Penelope L’Amoreaux builds rocket ships during the day and dreams of naughty adventures at night. When she isn’t putting those naughty adventures into words she enjoys a tall glass of wine, reading, and the perfectly cooked steak.

  Connect with Penelope L’Amoreaux

  Penelope L’Amoreaux can be found on twitter at @p_lamoreaux.