Champagne Kisses

“I want to make you cum exactly at midnight,” he says as closes the door behind him.

“Well, that gives you about fifteen minutes, Champagne.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Champagne is a hedge fund manager from back in the States. He is conventionally good-looking in a cold sort of way, similar to Patrick Bateman, with blond curly hair, polished nails, and a scent of honey coming off his well moisturized tone skin.

“Cause that’s what you handed me.”

He chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing my collarbone, staring intently at his actions. A little too Bateman like. His type likes to dominate since, despite his heavy paycheck, he really doesn’t do much but devise financial plans for others. I am going to be rode hard and put away wet.

I loosen his tie looking into his bright green eyes. He presses into me and I can feel his pecks through his overpriced Australian pima cotton button-down. He counters by unzipping my dress, using his soft, white-collar fingertips to tenderly pull the straps off my shoulders and send the material to a pile on the floor at our feet.

“Do you mind if…?” he asks crouching down and lifting the garment as I step out of it. “It looks like a silk and acetate blend and I would hate for it to wrinkle.”

“Oh! By all means.” Guess I’m not the only one checking out the thread count. He drapes my dress over the back of the vanity chair causally familiar with the practice. Barely glancing at me he removes his suit jacket, shirt, and pants, folding each of them before placing them on the seat of the chair. “And those?” pointing to his briefs.

With a half-smile, “I can’t do all the work now.” Suave. Witty rebuttals make my pussy constrict in joy. Verbal intelligence was the best foreplay and I would choose it any day over getting eaten out. Words were the best oral skills a man could have.

“Ten minutes.”

Pushing me backwards onto the bed he collapses over me careful not to actually land on me but rather around me, engulfing my body with his. He kisses down my neck, over my chest stopping to unhook my strapless front-close bra. He really knows his way around a woman’s clothes. I am taken in that moment when I realize there will be no awkward fumbling, only a smooth transaction of his cock making a deposit.

Sucking on my nipple his hand slides into my panties and his fingers into me. “If you want to make me cum at midnight you better… Holy shit!” His fingers twist inside me rapidly withdrawing and pressing into me while his thumb encircles my clit. My body winches in surprise as if to stop him before realizing the sudden pleasure and climaxes.

“I said exactly at midnight. You’re early,” he says in a patronizing tone with an alluding smile that confirms that was his plan.

Breathlessly and with a dry spot in the back of my throat from a quick gasp of mid-orgasm air, “Well you’ll just have to do it again, won’t you?” Fucking jackpot.

He slides off my soaked panties, pushes my legs open and licks me clean moaning and ‘mmm’ing with every lap. Back on his feet he pulls me to the edge of the bed, grabbing a pillow with one hand and my ankles with another, lifting my lower half like an infant to place the pillow under my ass. I glance at his dick, which is not only out of his briefs but also hard, and sheath in a studded condom. Smooth.

He rubs the tip of his dick just outside of my longing pussy. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Putting the head of his cock in and out, drawing imaginary circles as he tortures me while entertaining himself.

The movement outside the door has come to a still and “It’s about to start!” is repeated by several party guests. Champagne’s smile widens. “Ready?”

“Ten!” He shoves his dick inside me.
“Nine!” And thumps with vigor.
“Eight!” My fingernails curl around the sheets.
“Seven!” Taking a deep breath in.
“Six!” My back arches.
“Five!” And I can’t exhale.
“Four!” My pussy tightens.
“Three!” He moans in delight.
“Two!” FUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!
“One! Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, Ms. Ruthless.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too.”

I roll my head to the side and watch his bent body start to pick up belongings from the floor. “I hope you don’t mind but this is kind of a thing to me, and I will totally pay you for them, and please don’t tell your friend. I don’t want this getting back to the guys at work,” he explains pulling my panties above his knees and positioning his penis in the snug fit.

Usually I am appalled when wealthy men offer me money after sex; made me feel like a whore, but I was willing to make an exception for a man who not only could make me cum in less than ten seconds but had the balls to wear my wet panties back out into the party.

“Consider them a gift and our secret.” Secret cross dressers. I love them.

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