Lissa’s eyes are closed but she knows exactly what I am doing, and the sheen of pleasure across her face tells me she likes it. I continue sucking each toe on her right foot while I gently place her left foot directly on my growing cock. Every time she tries to move it away, I make sure her foot remains. I want her to feel my hardness.
“What…are…you doing?” she asks while trying to catch her breath.
I want to laugh. Sistergirl has apparently caught herself leaving her comfort zone and getting lost in the adventurous waters of rapture. But I don’t stop because I am really getting into this sensual foot bath. Plus, while she was initially shocked, she loves what’s happening. To make my point, I start at her heel and draw my tongue up the length of her sole, punctuating the act by taking her middle toe in my mouth and sucking it like a nipple on one of her glorious tits. She gasps. I stop long enough to say, “I’m licking my name on the bottom of your feet…so that if you ever get lost, you’ll always find your way back to me.”
Hearing my poetic flow, Lissa lets out a stronger sigh. She is breathing more rapidly, while her top teeth devour her lower lip. Her pelvis won’t sit still. Lissa’s legs stiffen slightly as her hands grip the arms of the salon chair, signaling to me that she is on the verge of orgasm. But just before she reaches the point of ecstasy, I abruptly stop. Lissa’s eyes slowly open and her face is flushed. She looks around, confused, as if she doesn’t know where she is. Before she can say anything, I let go of her feet and say it is time for us to leave.
Three days after our spa-licious date, I have a private meeting at the bank with dreary faced Wells Fargo CEO J. Brunson Alexander. My business plan this afternoon is two-fold—one, to secure the coventure between the bank and Costco, and two, to run an innocent little head trip on Lissa, who I haven’t seen or spoken to since drinking sangria from between her toes. I know her office is right next to Mr. Dull Guy, and I make damn sure that she sees me leaving. Lissa tries to catch me at the elevator, but fails. By the time I get back to my office, she’s called and left messages on my cell phone that I do not return. I know that I’m all up in her head now, confusing her and filling her mind with questions.
See, the thing is, women like Lissa, women who lack confidence in their womanly selves, will always think that they’re the ones screwing up. Women like this constantly accept blame. The trick is to feed and nurture that mindset and get her to depend on me to free her.
A day later, I surprise Lissa with an “apology” bouquet of white lilies and an invitation to join me Saturday at Yoshi’s Restaurant and Jazz Club in Jack London Square in Oakland. My plan for our second date is to make Lissa feel special by taking her to a VIP listening party for R&B crooner, Maxwell. Now that her libido is awakening, Lissa needs a bigger hit of my brand of seduction.
I’m sitting in the front right near the stage waiting for Lissa. The concert starts at 10:00 p.m. I’m pretty sure that unless it involves a business report of some kind, Lissa is not a night owl and has never been to this place. But I’m also positive that these two facts will not keep her away. I’ll bet my pimp playah card on it. I haven’t heard from her but I have no doubt that she will show. I am a temptation too great for her to resist. She’s definitely feeling me and I know those head and foot massages have planted subliminal seeds in her mind to be more open and free with me. It’s time to massage the middle. The naughty girl in her is beginning to surface. Everything is going perfect as planned. And tonight I plan to help Lissa step into her dark and sexy side.
Lissa arrives just before the show begins and unknowingly has me throwing away the two business cards I received from flirtatious tarts I encountered earlier. She is clearly the most beautiful woman in the club. Her long, silky hair is loose and brushed to the side, covering her left shoulder. I also see the sheen of a bronze-colored lipstick that matches her brown silk blouse and skirt. She wears a thick black belt to accentuate her waist and some three-inch-high, black peep-toe pumps that make her calves flex every time she takes a step. With no prescription glasses in sight, her glowing light browns are revealed. Bitch is hot! Amazing what a little bit of the right attention will do for a girl.
The moment Lissa gets near me the band starts playing and Maxwell appears on the stage singing his popular song, “Ascension (Don’t Ever Wonder).” Amid the sexy innuendos and outright propositions, the mostly female audience applauds thunderously.
“I’m so glad you came,” I stand and tell Lissa in her ear before kissing her on the cheek. With a gentleman’s flair, I pull out the chair and help her sit at the table. “I thought you might be mad with me.”
“I appreciate a sincere apology and white lilies even more, but we can talk about the other stuff later. For now, let’s just enjoy the show,” she utters in my ear trying to speak over the loud music.
“I ordered some lemon sangrias. That’s our drink right?”
“Yes,” she responds with a slight smile.
Bringing her to see Maxwell was no willy-nilly move. It is as premeditated, predetermined, pre-I’m-gonna-rock-your world, as they come. Maxwell has mastered the knack of filling the head and the drawers of every female his music touches with fantasies of seductive sex. Tonight he’s playing on my team—a warmup act if you will—opening the mind and hopefully the legs of the lovely Lissa.
My boy does not disappoint and is putting on a great show. Song after song he has the females in the crowd excited and screaming for more. After a second round of sangria, Lissa doesn’t mind my adventurous back touches or occasional thigh brushes. When she laughs at my jokes she sometimes touches my arm, shoulder or back. I’m reading that as an open invitation to move in closer, which I do. I close the space between our chairs so that my left hand can touch the small of her back. Soon that same hand is traveling to the top of her tempting thigh. The higher my hand moves the more her skin’s temperature seems to rise. My eyes never look directly at Lissa, only at the stage. My hand mischievously slides down to her knees, gently parts them, and proceeds to caress her inner thigh. I let my hand rest there while Maxwell sings “Pretty Wings.” Lissa nervously sips and toys with her sangria, never looking directly at me, but at this juncture, eagerly anticipating my next move.
While the club crowd focuses on Maxwell’s slow but high-pitched ooohs and aaahs under the dim lights, my fingers travel farther north to find some very moist panties. I press softly against Lissa’s warm clit without anyone near us noticing. Lissa’s legs open slightly wider under the table as my exploring hand becomes soaked in her juices. I move my fingers in small and rhythmic circles that are in sync with the music. Her waist and hips slightly gyrate to make it easier for my fingers to do their work. Lissa is more than willing to comply. She is under my spell and I have her exactly where I want her. Her mouth withholds the passionate screams her body desperately wants to release. My fingers become more aggressive, assertive and unrelenting. I want her to suffer complete pleasure in silence. Lissa halfheartedly tries brushing my hand away but does not continue to fight when I ignore her. For three straight songs I massage her drenched vagina nonstop, bringing her to several mini-orgasms. She is so turned on that she’s now oblivious to the crowd, the band and Maxwell’s crooning. Her eyes are closed and she periodically licks her parched lips trying to maintain what little composure is left, but my fingers moves feverishly, knowing she has one full-blown orgasm left in her.
“Cum again, Lissa, cum hard for Daddy!” I whisper smack in her ear.
“Why…are you…doing this to me…?” Lissa murmurs as she tries to hide her words as if she were a ventriloquist.
“Okay, then YOU do it to you,” I insist, taking her hand and gently guiding it into her pussy with mine.
“Release yourself, baby, and be free…cum…cum hard for Daddy NOW!” I demand of her while my hand guides her fingers deeper into her twat.
Almost simultaneously, while Maxwell belts out long and sexy falsetto notes that have the women erupting in applause, Lissa screams along in orgasm
ic pleasure. No one is the wiser, except for me and my magic fingers.
“Now taste yourself,” I dare her. My dick jumps hard against my jeans as my wish becomes her command. I have to touch my cock as she slowly inserts her hand into her mouth, dripping her tasty pussy juice onto her tongue. Oh, yeah, the horny little genie is coming out of her bottle and not a moment too soon.
Her deliciously slutty move, while a distinct turn-on for me, apparently embarrasses her enough to require an immediate trip to the ladies room. Maxwell launches into his encore performance for the already frenzied crowd. When Lissa returns, I am gone.
Once again, I purposely have not called Lissa all week. I knew that I’d see her at the upcoming bank meeting, plus my “tease her, dog her” plan is progressing right on schedule and is about to bear some seriously delicious fruit. I’ve awakened Lissa’s libido, tamed it and now plan on owning it.
I walk into the meeting, not sure what I’ll find but not worried. J. Brunson Alexander is out of the office on sick leave, but gave the meeting facilitator role to Lissa for our Wells/Costco Payment Processing venture. She doesn’t speak or look at me during the first few minutes of the meeting. She acts very businesslike, as if she doesn’t know me. That shit is just turning me on all the more.
And the girl is looking quite stunning. Desire is definitely transforming her. I knew it would but didn’t have a clue to what extent. Her lips are now painted a vibrant red; her hair is down and filled with natural curls that flow just past her shoulders. She’s sporting a paper white, silk V-neck blouse that provides a peek of her enticing cleavage and goes well with her tight, black pin-striped pencil skirt that hits just below the knees to reveal those smokin’ legs of hers. Legs, I must add, which are made even more tempting by some sheer, black stockings with black sling-back, pointed-toe pumps. My eyes are discreet but she definitely has my mind’s attention. In fact, it is hard to think of anything else but those tasty legs wrapped around my waist.
The 4:00 p.m. meeting includes ten executive managers seated around a huge round table while several others attend via conference call line. Lissa passes out an agenda sheet to all in attendance, but the document she gives me is quite different:Let me
feed myself to you
with hands dipped
in my moist honey
please lick my fingers
taste me, kiss me, let me
lick myself off your lips
while you slide your throbbing heat
in between my mountain peaks
I lock you in and
rock you closer
you drip sticky love
onto my tongue
I suck you in deep
to nurse you
and ask if…
you got milk baby?
My jaw drops. The note throws me off and surprises me. I had bested my record. In less than three dates, I’d turned this simple, workaholic, goody-two-shoes girl out and haven’t even sealed the deal yet. Sitting here not being able to touch her is pure torture. Watching and imagining what I am going to do to her gives me an erection the size of a Louisville slugger. Several times during the meeting, I have to cover and adjust myself. I can’t wait for this stupid gathering to end.
The meeting goes on for about three and half hours. Although Lissa and I both present project plan items, we continue with our game of not acknowledging each other. At the meeting’s conclusion, I inform my colleagues that I need extra time to confirm some things with Miss Lawton. Lissa concludes her good-byes to coworkers and starts putting paperwork into a briefcase. It’s after 7:30 p.m. and the conference room is now clear.
“So did you like my poem?” Lissa queries from across the room.
“Yeah, you surprised me, it is really hot.”
“Well, you’re not the only muse in the room.”
“I didn’t even know you wrote poetry.”
“I don’t. This was a first. Just like my hair and foot massage, and you fingering me in public.” She is saying all of this as she slinks towards me with slide to her glide that is all about S.E.X. She pulls up on me, her tremendous tits just inches away from my pecs. Shit, my dick is thumping like a garden hose with the faucet on full blast.
“Well, do you want another first?” I ask, reclaiming my cool while moving in on her lips.
“I was hoping you already knew the answer to that question,” she purrs.
The Wells Fargo Conference Room on the twentieth floor is off the hook, with spectacular panoramic views of downtown San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Bay Bridge, and the Berkeley Hills, but none can compete with the sight standing in front of me now. Lissa slowly takes off her glasses and tosses them on the conference table. Looking into those light brown eyes, I see only want and desire. I brush my lips against hers and feel electric heat travel down my spine and tickle my already erect cock. She calmly takes her fingers, travels underneath her skirt and panties, and touches her own wetness before placing her fingers into my thirsty mouth. I lick each finger slowly, savoring the taste. With no words spoken, we decide to have a passionate ménage à trois with the cityscape.
We start unbuttoning and unzipping each other, yearning to satisfy a sexual hunger that intensifies with every second. Our clothes are all over the conference room floor while my hands explore every line and curve of her sexy body. I kiss her neck, shoulders, breasts, waist and perfect apple bottom. I kneel on one knee while my hands stretch high to tickle her erect, chocolate nipples. She drapes her left thigh over my right shoulder and I softly tongue-kiss her wet and neatly shaved kitty kat. This surprises and stops me dead in my tracks.
“You like?” she asks with a coyness in her voice I’d never heard before.
“Yes, baby, I do.” I ain’t never lied. Lissa is no longer that conservative librarian but my very own freak-a-narian, who shaved her pussy just for me. Totally excited, my tongue licks, twirls and flicks directly on her clit, until her little man in the boat capsizes. The rush of intensity causes her to dig her fingernails deep into my shoulders. She shivers and squirts on my lips that are now painted with her warm, sweet juices.
Lissa abandons all inhibition and lets lustful desire consume her. She stands upright. Her hands touch and admire my massive pecs and six-pack abs. She grabs what I think is a glass of water but is actually lemon sangria, and pours it all over my nakedness. Her tongue travels all across my wet body, finding each drop and licking it off. She softly bites my nipples, sending electric charges throughout my body. She moves farther south to kiss my stomach and lick the sun tattoo that surrounds my navel. She grabs my massive manhood, softly stroking and holding it as if it were her pet snake. Lissa takes my love muscle and slips it in between her C-cups. She uses her hands to make her breasts jiggle and massage me. She slightly tucks her neck so that her mouth can suck on the tip of my penis, making it grow longer. My hands caress the beautiful long hair that I’ve washed and rinsed. I can feel myself giving in to pleasure and losing control as she bobs her head back and forth nursing on me. I’m nearing heaven.
My ache to be inside of her gives me strength to keep from cumming in her mouth. I pull her body up and lay her facedown on the conference table. Staring at us is a picture of J. Brunson Alexander and other top Wells Fargo executives whose faces are perfectly aligned on the conference room walls. I am on a mission and those pictures are nothing more than playah hatin’ voyeurs to me. I spread her legs and buttock cheeks wide, grab my dick and slowly insert myself deep into her pussy. I grab her hips for leverage as now I’m really giving it to her doggy-style. Her body tightens and freezes as she moans orgasmic pleasure with every thrust. How you like me now? I take half a second to look up and silently ask J. Brunson Alexander.
“Oooooo…Chris, fuck me. Don’t stop baby. Don’t stop.” Her words turn me into an enraged jungle beast. I grunt with aggression and sweat from the heat I generate from every ram and heave. Deeper and deeper I plunge myself into her wetness, as my body yearns to satisfy this sexual hunge
r. I feel powerful, alive and free. My hips go on automatic pilot. Soon my rhythm of thrusts creates a tingling sensation that rules over my body as I explode with pure happiness. Everything moves in slow motion. I hear nothing. I see her face in ecstasy. I begin to lose focus. Drained of all energy, we both collapse on the table, gasping for breath.
We fall asleep on the conference table, totally oblivious to the world around us. It is 11:45 p.m. when I awake. Lissa is still in my arms feeling warm, safe and protected. The playah in me is more than satisfied, while the man silently asks questions and comes to the conclusion that this is the kind of woman I’ve wanted all my life. Lissa is a sweet, hardworking girl during the day and a sexy, naughty freak momma at night. She put up with all of my games of manipulation and still is willing to fulfill my fantasies. She is a soldier! I glance at her sleeping soundly, whisper, “Thank you,” and gently kiss her face. This is the one.
The next day I am still feeling warm and at peace. I usually brag about my latest conquests to my homeboys, but this day is different. For the first time in a long time I truly feel…happy. Every song that I hear on my iPod reminds me of Lissa and inspires me to send her a love poem of my own:Your beauty kisses my heart’s lips
That opens and frees a sixth sense
Now I can see your sweet fragrance
Now I can hear your sunshine smiles
Now I can taste your dreams and fantasies
And if you believe in me
You will find that my love for you
Is evergreen, effervescent and everlasting
It’s been three weeks and I haven’t heard from Lissa. My messages to her cell phone go unreturned. Calls to her office are answered by staff saying she is traveling and unavailable. I even check with the Wells Fargo management team assigned to work with Costco but they know nothing. The next scheduled conference meeting is weeks away. I’m feeling lost and confused. Has Lissa turned the “play him, dog him” game on me?
Can't Help the Way That I Feel Page 12