::: Your Smug Grin :::

Sometimes I want to wipe that smug grim off your face. The turn of your eyes that makes me stumble over myself stops me in my tracks and each time my body regrets my feelings because it knows you so well. Yes, sometimes I want to wipe that smug grin off your face. The turn of your cheek toward me as if you were really the one controlling the game.

Yet, sometimes I’d rather feel your hand smashing my wrists far above me against a brick wall proving to me that it is you after all. You body firm against mine as I melt into you momentarily letting my body give into your control. In your eyes I see a hunger that pulls at every chord within me calling out for more. But you. You just stand there holding your pose resting our energy on edge of tipping over into madness and with every second that goes by my body shudders trying to hold back taking control. Your gaze grows even more intense daring me, calling for something from deep within.

A low growl begins to ascend from the core of me. A bit to my lower lip and a flush of my eyes spreads as a greater passion vibrates through me. I pull against your restraints just lightly as you hold that familiar pose reconciled to let me struggle. This fire begins to take over as my teeth arch out for you neck and my legs leap up to your hips in an effort to distract and stir you.

Then it appears again. That smug fucking grin as you move your neck in the opposite direction and your knee nails my hips against the wall making it nearly impossible to move. I know that there are others around as you have your way with me in the dirty stall of this trashy bar but this isn’t like our family bars where someone would move to kick us out for such deviant behavior. No it’s not like that at all and you knew it all along. You continue to just stand there pressing into me just enough to keep your control. My breath grows short as my resistance grows still and I give over to you. My body softens and gentle moans slide from my lips as I let myself rest against the wall littered with tag marks prepubescent jocks and anarchist college kids.

A different type of madness is stirred within and all at once I am more turned on than I have ever been. My body moves whether you are with me or not. Even though I can’t feel you in the way I would like, your hands draped over my pussy just resting on the outside teasingly or your hands fiercely pulling at my hair as you enter me hard and fast. No I can’t feel you like I have before but it’s no matter. I can feel your stare. I allow you to penetrate me as my gaze meets yours and holds still. Within your eyes I see everything I need and with your body press so tightly into mine by breath grows short finding a rhythm that slowly builds every second that passes by. I see you challenging me wondering if I can do it. Wondering if I can cum without even one touch.

My body can not be denied and has a will of it’s own to achieve what is only inevitable given time. At this point I am so turned on that all forms of sanity are left behind and I give over to this feeling gyrating my body in anyway that I can given my circumstances. Your face hardens, growing tense and focused on what is happening with me. Willing me on. Begging me to cum. You lean slightly toward my ear and utter your first words to me since we entered this stall, “Cum now!” and with those words my body explodes as I shudder against the wall. You continue to hold me in this same position my arms forced above me against the wall and my hips pressed flat behind me. You reach for my gaze with your own in a silent challenge. Searching. Imploring.

Then that smug grin finds it’s way again. Yes, sometimes I want to wipe that smug grin off your face. Then sometimes I’d rather feel your hand smashing my wrists far above me against a brick wall proving to me that it is you after all.