Standing in front of the mirror, I apply the gooey liquid over my lips until they shine like glass, not gooey but slick and hard, almost icy. I’m keeping in mind my friend Alice’s advice that “lip gloss should look like you’ve just given someone a blowjob.” Whether or not they approximate this maxim, I know my lips will be the main attraction tonight, which is precisely the idea. They are slick and shiny, like a red race car, boldly drawing attention to themselves, whether the viewer wants to look or not. The rest of my ensemble works, too — clingy black top and short tight black PVC skirt. But I want people’s eyes firmly on my lips.
I head over to the bar, a plush new one that’s just opened. I’ve been lucky enough to land a coveted invitation to this private party, and I know the crowd will be the cream of the crop. I could have brought a guest, but tonight is by necessity a solo excursion. I’m on a specific mission and need to conduct it in my own way. Finding the right man for a one night stand, for an electric connection that burns and sizzles as fast and hot as a firecracker, and lasts about as long, requires a unique combination of savvy and intuition and I can’t have any distractions.
Red is the theme of the night, with lush red curtains and a deep garnet shade painted on the walls. I order the watermelon martini, the night’s special, and perch on the barstool. My legs are tucked under the bar and I don’t bother to showcase them, even though I know they’re magnificent. I’m alone and know exactly what I want — a hot guy, a stud, sometime to entertain me for tonight and tonight only. Someone with a cock that’s hard and hot and needy, just for me. As I close my eyes and lean forward to sip the cold, sweet drink, I feel a presence behind me. After I swallow I slowly sit up in my chair, leaning back ever so slightly and brushing against the shirtfront of a very slick, well-dressed handsome man. Not a cute, shaggy hipster like I normally meet or a yuppie Wall Streeter straight out of college, but a real man — a little older, crisp and clean, sophisticated.
I slowly swivel my stool around to look at him, our gazes holding. My knees skim his thighs, and instead of smiling I reach for my glass and bring it to his lips. The ghost of a smile forms on his face as he lets me tilt the icy red liquid down his throat. I bring the glass back to my own lips and sip again, slowly and deliberately, still meeting his gaze. I’m vaguely aware of the crowd surging around us, the commotion at the bar, but this stranger is occupying the bulk of my attention. I have the urge to wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer, but I stay composed. I open my mouth and am about to introduce myself, searching for a witty line, but the longer we stand there staring at each other, the more difficult words become.
Instead I take his left hand and bring it to my mouth, sliding his index finger inside and then carefully sliding it out, my tongue pressing against it the entire time. I push it back in again and repeat the process, this time lightly grazing my teeth along his slightly roughened skin. As I’m about to go for a third round, he moves his hand and trails his wet finger along my neck, ending at the neckline of my dress, his hand resting on my chest.
He reaches his hand out for mine and even though I have half a drink left, I let him lead me into the unisex single occupancy bathroom. As befits the rest of the dÃ©cor, the bathroom is lush and lavish, with red tiles and smooth surfaces and a plush upholstered chair along with the sink and toilet. I look up at him, my lips slightly pursed, poised to smile or laugh or smirk, not letting him know which one it will be yet. I keep my eyes locked on his as my hand goes to his crotch, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. I like that I’m in control here, that even though I just met him I know that he’s at my mercy. He led me here but now I will be leading him. Even down on my knees I will be the one in control and that thought sends a shiver through my body. Ignoring the chair for a moment, I step closer and then drag myself down his body, my breasts sliding along his torso, my nipples hardening at the friction as I sink to the floor. It’s hard to keep my commanding gaze as I look up at him, but somehow I manage even though inside I’m melting. I close my eyes for a second as my hand reaches up reverently to stroke his cock through his pants.
I glance briefly at the chair but then realize that I like it better down here on the cold floor, the tiles pressing into my knees as I fumble with his belt buckle. I’m soaking wet and will surely have to remove my panties later but for the moment all I care about is his cock and getting it into my mouth. He helps me undo his zipper and before his pants are even pushed down his thighs I’m leaning forward, my tongue darting forth to lick a slow, teasing line along the length of his cock. I move closer so my knees are pressed up against the sides of his shoes, my legs slightly spread as I try to taste all of him at once. He sighs and groans and I look up at him for a moment, no longer smirking at all, simply acknowledging how right it feels to be here in front of him. His eyes are almost too intense and I close mine before guiding the length of his smooth, warm cock into my mouth, going slowly until I have all of him inside of me.
I try to push him deeper, to feel the tip of his cock at the back of my throat, to take him as far inside of me as I can. I hold his cock and press the tip along my throat, ecstatic, until finally sliding it out and starting the whole process all over again. I tilt my head and run my pursed lips along his cock, up and down and around, my own slippery sexual harmonica that I can play any way I want. I love the way he feels against me, how hot his cock is and every time I move to try something else like licking his balls or kissing my way along his length, I suddenly need to have him inside me again. I devour his cock, slamming it down my throat and back, rocking my whole body back and forth in a special kind of dance. As I do, my thong presses tightly against my pussy and I let out a groan of my own that reverberates against his cock. I feel like I could stay right here forever, learn every curve and crevice and nuance of his cock, and still want more.
He is enjoying it too, I can tell, but as his hands flick agitatedly from my head to my hair to his sides, I know he’s getting close and don’t want to deprive him. I slide him slowly out of my mouth, teasing him by sliding him back in slightly and then continuing. I rub my cheeks against his cock, press it against my neck, caress it and adore it. Then I spread my legs wider, into a split and look up at him before opening my mouth, sticking out my tongue and slapping his cock against it again and again. Now he really groans, louder and fiercer than before and I move faster, then shake my head back and forth, slapping my face against his cock and his cock against my face in a frenzy that makes me feel almost dizzy. I want to talk, to tell him to please come for me, to tell him how much I need his hot cum splattered all over me, to tell him how wet he’s making me, but I don’t want to ruin the mood. I think he knows how I feel though, as we thrash energetically and then he grabs my head with one hand and his cock with the other and forces his cum onto me, giving me exactly what I’d asked for as the warm whiteness spills all over my face, my lips, my hair. I lunge for his cock and suck the rest of it out of him, holding him there even after I know he’s done.
Finally I stand up, too nervous to look at him. Instead I look in the mirror and try to rearrange my hair and clothes so that it’s not quite so obvious what we’ve been doing. It feels like we’ve been here for an hour but I think it’s only been about 10 minutes, which is still long enough to annoy the bar patrons. I smooth my hair back into its barrettes, adjust my collar, splash water on my cheeks and wipe them clean. But my lips, well, my lips I leave, looking wet and moist and red and sexy. I don’t need the lip-gloss anymore to do the job for me; I’ve just done it myself. I wink at the stranger and then stroll out the door, a smile on my wet red lips.