It’s a cheap ploy, I know, but I can never help myself when it comes to reminding women about the size of my dick. For her, I imagine what she was drawn to most had nothing to do with my manhood. I presented myself with a calm, understated confidence, a well cut suit, and the willingness to stare into her eyes and back up my passionate gazes with my words and body movements.

“You should have seen my panties, they were soking wet!” she texted me in response. “Call me sir from now on,” I answered.

You might think it’s demeaning, but the dirty secret is that she wanted to be powerless before me. She was well aware of every decision she was making and her submission to me, someone who was practically a total stranger, excited her more than anything her boyfriend could provide. Which works well for me, because the idea of a taken woman, a girl who has to get plastered in order to submit to me is the ultimate turn on.

And what a girl to be turned on by. When I saw her dancing I was instantly drawn to her. With her jet-black hair tied in a bun, her dress had the structure of something you could wear to the office, except the material was mostly see through. In the hazy darkness of the club it was hard to make out just how sexy her body was. While grinding against her I had to let my hands explore to gain a fuller picture. She was in perfect shape, as my hands explored her body I found a firm stomach and curvaceous hips; two things that don’t always go together. I guess she was Italian, but her background could have been anything. As I felt her breast and nipples, I knew they would be perfect to look at when riding me. I can just picture her mouth open panting, bouncing on my rock hard cock. Her areolas seemed a bit larger than normal and her nipples were the type that could easily embarrass a girl on a windy day. As I flicked her left nipple I knew she shuddered in response.

As for her pussy, I haven’t had the opportunity to find out. Ugh, I moan just thinking about it. As I went home, took a hot shower and stroked myself to the image of her I couldn’t help picture what it must look like. The image of her bare lips, what she must smell like, what she must taste like; it drove me wild. I wondered whether or not she was shaven. I wondered if she had her pussy waxed. Or did she only trim, or have a landing strip? Or maybe she shaved an image out of her pubic hair, like a heart – for her boyfriend perhaps. Moaning, as I finished up my shower, the idea of making her dirty and bending her too my will took me over the edge. I came, shooting ropes of my hot cum all over the shower walls and floor. As the last final load shot from my 9” cock I couldn’t help imagining that I was plastering her face with it; I was going to make that happen.

—–

“OMG,” she thought as she read his text. “Call me sir,” the order shocked her body so uncontrollably that she almost collapsed on the dance floor. Something about him made her legs quiver; although that could have been the alcohol too. He seemed so arrogant, so cocky. But as much as he seemed full of himself, his orders turned her on. “I’m not used to this,” she thought. Part of her wanted to rebel or to tease him into submission, but she didn’t think he would be the type to fall for that. Even though the brief thought of denying him met her at every turn she couldn’t help but picture giving herself too him. With every dominant text, his suave appearance melted away and she started to picture the writhing, powerful animal he really was. The idea of bending down before him, of taking his erect penis in her mouth and taming him with her tongue and throat excited her more than anything. Knowing that when his body quaked and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, she would feel powerful making his warm cum splash into her mouth. It was so dirty, but she wanted to please him.

“Yes, sir!” she said in response. Putting her phone in her clutch, she continued dancing. As she whipped her hair and grinded to the music, the idea of him on top of her, staring deep into her eyes and ravaging her kept her womanhood dripping. “Fuck he was good looking,” she thought. He might as well have been the definition of eye candy. He didn’t seem too overly muscular or too skinny. His dirty blonde hair looked James Dean-esque and was complimented by his scruff; it wasn’t quite a beard, but it was enough to tickle her slightly and send shivers down her spine as he bit her neck on the dance floor. Mmm, something is dead sexy about a man in a suit. He had trouble written all over him.

His cock was clean shaven. God, it seemed so big. Tried as she might to get him out of her head during the next week, she couldn’t help but think about how he had touched her breast and bitten her neck. It was intoxicating. She thought of Mark and felt guilty, but knew he didn’t excite her sexually like this man did. She didn’t want to give in, but his texts never started off bad, and when the alcohol started pouring she couldn’t help but indulge his advances. She couldn’t have will power when it came to him.

“I want you to go into the bathroom, undress in the stall and take a picture for me of your entire body, completely naked.” She it read over again. Could she really do this? She had never once so much as kissed another man while with Mark, and now she was being asked to strip and expose herself to another man. Completely naked. But as her dancing started to become less organized, she found herself walking towards the bathroom. Once in the stall she found herself unzipping the back of her dress and stepping out of it. An immense feeling of dirtiness seized her, and as she took the picture and looked at it, her pussy gushed at the thought that her image was going to make that big cock of his hard. Holding the phone in her right hand she let her left hand move down and pressed hard into her clit. As the pleasurable throbbing made her shudder she pressed send.

She quickly and lustily sent another follow up text, “Yes Sir! I’ll do anything for you sir!” And she meant it.

To be continued.

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