No Words Required

He sat in his customary corner booth, his eyes as dark and shimmery as sealskin. He had been staring at me for most of the evening, making me feel uncomfortable, yet curiously aroused.

He had been nursing what appeared to be a glass of scotch for the past half an hour, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the lacquered tabletop, while penning something into a notebook with his right. I wondered what he was writing. It appeared he was being quite careful to select just the right words. He would write a few, then pause at length before beginning again, and during each pause, he would stare at me, barely blinking, with those hypnotic eyes.

He had a reputation for charming the women who were bold enough to approach him. It had been said that he was a very poetic man, yet his brand of self-expression was curious and unique. Words of love and desire fell from his eyes as naturally as rain from a cloudy sky. Yes, from his eyes. By all accounts, he rarely spoke, yet his eyes were so expressive, that the women he conquered heard him with their hearts. He had a habit of taking women home, making love to them until they literally wept, and then never calling them again. He was dangerous. He was a cad, but he was undeniably handsome and desirable and I knew that I had to have him.

I found the tales about this man quite intriguing. At that point in my life I wasn't looking for a relationship. I didn't have a burning desire to establish a lifelong connection to a member of the opposite sex. I merely wanted to feel good physically and emotionally. Perhaps a casual tryst with the dark-eyed man in the corner was exactly what I needed to bolster my sagging sense of self-esteem and put me back on top of my game.

"Don't do it Claire," Katie warned. "That man is nothing but trouble," she added, as if she were reading my thoughts.

"Yes, but he's so delicious, and I haven't gotten laid in a very long time," I grinned, never taking my eyes off him.

Despite her warning, I was already intently formulating my clever yet casual introduction. I fully intended to approach him and, God-willing, he would take me home.

Katie giggled in response to my comment, but composed herself quickly. "Claire, I'm telling you, you'll get your heart broken. Besides, I've heard he's weird. He doesn't even talk. Who wants to go to bed with a man that doesn't talk? Don't you want a little dirty conversation to spice things up?"

"I don't really want conversation of any kind in the bedroom," I responded, "A couple of 'fuck me harders,' and 'ooo baby, I'm cummings,' will suffice."

"You're such a pig," Katie laughed. "You fuck like a man."

I nodded in the affirmative, lifted my drink and stood up.

"I've got to do this," I said, straightening my hair and grabbing my purse. "I'm going to fix my face, and then I'm going to go over and introduce myself. Wish me luck?"

Katie merely groaned and waved me off, clearly exasperated that I wouldn't heed her warning.

Moments later I was gazing at my reflection in the women's room mirror, wondering what I might say to this peculiar stranger. I stroked the rich lipstick across my full, pouty mouth and applied a fresh coat of powder to my nearly flawless cheeks. My hair was the deepest ebony with waves that shone brilliantly under the vanity lights. I was certain he would find me attractive. He had already obviously noticed me. It was hard to imagine that he'd decline my invitation for sex.

On the way back to the main bar area, I dropped my purse. As I turned to retrieve it, I felt a presence in the corridor behind me. I felt a bit uneasy. The corridor leading to the restrooms was otherwise deserted. My ears pricked up so I could listen more intently. As I placed the lipstick and loose change back into my purse, I heard footsteps approaching. They suddenly fell silent and I could feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck begin to bristle.

I felt a hand on my elbow as I rose and I turned to find myself face to face with the man I'd been fantasising about. He smiled only slightly, and I felt a tightening in my gut. I gasped slightly, needing to catch my breath because the sight of him had stolen it from me.

He was even more stunning up close.

I reached my hand out to touch his chest. I wasn't sure why I had done that, but there was something in his eyes that told me it would be okay, that he wanted me to.

He placed his left hand over mine and held my hand against his heart, as if to say, "Can you feel it beating? At this moment, it beats only for you."

His hand held fast to mine and he began to lead me back down the corridor from which we came. We passed the restrooms and the door to the kitchen and finally, out the rear door to the patio, which was deserted because autumn was now setting in. I shuddered against the crisp evening air as it caught my lungs. He placed his hands over my shoulders and began to rub my arms briskly to warm me.

I turned to face him, uncertain of whether or not I should speak. I decided it best to take my cues from him and I remained silent. As his hand ascended along my arm again, it found my thick ebony locks and he grabbed a fistful of my hair, using it to pull me more firmly toward him. He parted his lips over mine with a complicated mixture of gentle urgency. I sensed that this was a man who could easily cross the line between casual sex and rough sex, yet this was part of the allure. I found myself literally quivering with delicious anticipation. Could it be that I might like to have sex somewhat roughly? Could it be that I might be attracted to dangerous, illicit sex? This was not something I had ever realised about myself until he looked into my eyes across a crowded bar. Somehow, under the weight of his penetrating stare I surrendered my sense of decorum and decency. Now here I was, aching to be manhandled by a mature, devastating stranger.

His tongue bit lightly into my bottom lip and he tugged at it slightly before letting it go so he could trace his tongue over my chin, along the perfumed skin of my neck, and down to the zipper of my blouse. He latched onto the zipper and began to pull, lowering himself to his knees as he did so. His eyes gazed up into mine as he silently inquired, "do you mind?" Of course I did not mind. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back slightly to make my submission clear.

His tongue ran its way back up my now-exposed torso, his hands roaming up the delicate skin of my back until he came to find my bra, which he readily unhinged. He was now standing again and his hands were ensnared in my hair. He grasped another fistful and used it to force me to my knees.

Did he want me to suck his cock? I felt so vulnerable and uncertain. Yet my lips were beginning to quiver and I found that I wanted to suck his cock...badly. The position he held me in was ripe for such an encounter. I licked my lips and gazed up at him with pleading eyes.

He read me like an open book, and unzipped his pants for me. A reassuring hand traced the side of my face and held my chin firmly as he gazed down with a smile that told me not to be afraid. There was no one coming. No one would disrupt our dirty little encounter. I could envelop his cock and suck it all night if I wanted to and no one would know.

His cock was magnificent, not too dark, not too full of veins. A healthy drop of pre-cum was already oozing from his tip, betraying his desire. He was fully shaved, which I preferred.

He slid his belt from his waistband and reached behind me, tethering my wrists together with the belt, and pulling it tight. He stood erect again, grabbing my hair and pushing my face toward his throbbing protrusion. My lips parted and I moistened them with my spit and my tongue. His eyes grew wide in anticipation, and then, he used my thick hair to guide my eager mouth onto his cock. It pulsed so violently that I nearly had to chase it before sucking its tip between my eager lips.

I was completely at his mercy, yet not afraid. He had me on my knees, hands bound behind my back and he was forcing my movements with his commanding hands. His cock poked at the back of my throat repeatedly. He gasped and grunted, moaned and panted, but still did not speak.

My mouth widened and I took him into me completely, as my throat opened to accommodate his full length. I could taste his sweet juices dotting my tonsils. I clamped down on him, pulsating my tongue beneath his shaft and ever so slowly pulled away. As I reached his glans, he pushed me back, hard, until his cock slammed my throat again. Our game continued. I knew that he was in complete rapture with my mouth so warm and moist it must have felt like the most spectacular pussy. I imagined that when he closed his eyes, he might not have been able to tell the difference.

His hips began to gyrate as if he were making love to me, as if he had forgotten that this was my face and that he was not buried deep inside my sweet, dark cavern. But I began to wish that he were buried inside me. I could feel wetness beginning to drip into my cotton panties and my pussy was swelling so fully that it began to ache unbearably.

I moaned and the sounds of my pleasure forced his impassioned noises to grow louder. He sounded like a wounded animal as I sucked him ferociously. The concrete patio was scratching at my raw knees and I didn't care. Faster and faster I sucked, harder and harder until his grunts turned to squeals and I sensed that he was about to explode, but I had other plans. I had other desires. My pussy was a force to be reckoned with and I would not deny it the pleasure of being fucked.

I forced my head back against his palm and his cock fell from my mouth. His eyes flew open in disbelief. "What the fuck?" he asked me, without words.

I raised my eyebrows playfully and lay back onto the cold concrete, spreading my legs before him. My wrists remained tethered, digging into my back as I lay there waiting to be fucked.

He eagerly, desperately slipped out of his pants and literally tore my pants off of me. My wet pussy glistened in the moonlight, creating a sensual yet silent invitation. He dropped to his knees and draped himself across my now naked body, shoving himself into me without the slightest hesitation. His movements were urgent, raw and dangerous. The feeling of his cock inside me was exquisite, despite the reckless way in which he plunged into me.

My wrists were digging into both the concrete and my lower back. The pain was excruciating and was beginning to become a distraction. A look of compassion washed over his face as I quietly grimaced beneath him. A tender hand ran lightly up my left leg, leaving a trail of goose-flesh behind. He lifted my leg to his face and kissed my foot and ankle, before turning me over onto my side. He slipped out of me and it was sheer agony.

He removed his jacket and placed it beside me, before tenderly guiding me onto my belly. The warmth and cushion of the jacket beneath me was a welcomed relief. I could feel him removing the belt from my wrists and was grateful. The sense of danger that this elicited had been intoxicating, yet it was good to be free.

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees and I felt him rubbing his cock against my wanting bum. I couldn't wait to feel him back inside me, and prepared myself for that delicious initial pain as a big cock forces it's way inside my reluctant bottom. I waited. His cock continued to rub against me, but no penetration. I could feel it bobbing and I could hear him panting lightly. Sweet fucking hell, he was masturbating against my asshole! This was one of the biggest turn-ons of my life. I pressed up against him to try and force him inside of me, but he backed himself up, continuing to stroke his rigid cock vigorously. The tip of his dick felt slippery against me as our juices flowed together.

He was becoming anxious again. I could hear it in the distinct rhythm of his breathing. His body drew a bit nearer to me and I could feel myself separating as his tip slid ever so slightly into me. My sphincter walls relaxed, trying to draw him in deeper. I screamed. I didn't mean to. It was reflexive. It was primitive. I was caught in the throes of a wicked, torturous game. He was teasing me and I wanted to be fucked; yet I was so aroused that I was literally helpless.

I must have been transparent, because he seemed to read my every thought and every emotion. He knew I wanted him to fuck my ass and at long last, that's what he did. In my most vulnerable position, on my hands and knees, face buried in his jacket to muffle my screams, I let this handsome stranger have his way with me. His cock was more than ample and he slammed it into me repeatedly, deeply.

In a new twist, he began slapping my ass until it stung and turned deep crimson. This only served to heighten my pleasure. My nipples dragged along the cool silk lining of his jacket, causing them become as hard as pebbles. They ached horribly, yet the pain, like the pain on my freshly spanked ass, was addictive.

I lost track of how many orgasms I had. I used one hand to work my clit with gusto as he sodomised me in the way I needed, while using my other hand to stop myself being forced through the nearest wall. Perhaps it was one extended orgasm with a series of intense peaks and valleys. It really didn't matter. He finally spilled himself inside of me and collapsed. I was completely spent.

As I re-entered the bar moments later I caught Katie's eye. She could tell by my rumpled clothing, raw wrists and crooked grin that I had not taken her advice. With any luck, I'd find plenty of opportunity to disregard her advice again in the very near future.