Greedy Queen

Henry got Marisol’s text message just as his lunch meeting started.

On the little screen of his phone was a picture of her thick thighs, just barely covered by a pretty summer dress.

“Just got out of the spa. Waxed completely bare,” she wrote.

He went to reply so quickly he almost dropped his phone.

“You should come over. I’m not busy, I can leave the office in a half an hour,” he typed.

Looking up from his phone, Henry scanned the packed conference room and remembered how very busy he actually was, but that didn’t matter.

One wall of the conference room was illuminated by a projection of a pie chart and the rest of the room was dark. He hoped no one would notice him looking at his phone under the table as the next text came.

“You would leave work just to see what’s under here?” she wrote, followed by another shot of her lap, this time with the dress pulled up to show just a sliver of the pink of her panties.

Everyone at the conference table looked at Henry as he coughed and stood up abruptly.

“Everyone, I’m really sorry, but I just got a text about a- um- family emergency. So I’ve got to run. Dave, you’ve got this presentation covered anyhow,” he lied.

Luckily, he almost never left work early. No one said a thing except for hoping that everything was alright with his family.

He grabbed his jacket and his bag and nearly tripped on his way to the elevator.

That’s what she did to him, made him clumsy and stupid. Looking at his reflection in the metallic door of the elevator, he straightened his dark blue tie and brushed some lint off the lapel of his gray suit. He looked good. Good enough, he hoped.

It had all started with a one night stand, or at least something that was supposed to be one. Henry met Marisol at a party, a friend of a friend. She was tall, taller than he was and he was almost six feet. She had light brown skin, freckled cheeks, wild curly hair, thick lips, thick thighs, and dangerous curves in a tiny dress.

They fell into flirty banter almost immediately. He was as hypnotized by her charm as he was by her cleavage. During a lull in conversation, she surprised him by pulling him by the lapels of his stylish suit and kissing him deeply. An hour later they stumbled into a cab, then they tumbled into bed.

It was just a fun friendly fuck for both of them, nothing more. Yet there was something in the desperate and intense way he had went down on her that surprised them both. She had never had someone eat her pussy with such enthusiasm and skill, and Henry had never had someone grab his hair and pull him between their thighs with such demanding desire. When she had whispered what a good boy he was, patting his head after she came, she sparked a desire that popped into his head every day after that night.

Beyond all the physical chemistry, which they had in spades, they weren’t sure they were each other’s type. He was a workaholic and she was a free spirit. He worked in finance and she was a social worker. After that first encounter there were vague plans for something more, but they seemed better as a fling than a thing. Still, they kept up a sort of casual lingering flirtation through text messages and emails.

Two months later she texted him asking for advice. She was thinking about getting a Brazilian wax for the first time. Henry told her that he had an ex that got them and that it drove him wild with lust. He also told her about how walking around like that, suddenly super smooth, meant every step would send vibrations right to her clit. A slight breeze would make her dress brush against her and it would make her crazy.

There was a furor in his messages that spoke volumes about just how much he was in favor of the idea.

“So if I do it, would you want to be the first to eat my freshly waxed pussy?” Marisol typed.

That question would keep Henry hard and uncomfortably turned on for the next few days.

The desire that hit him as he replied made Henry nervous. He told her he would pretty much do anything to do that. What he didn’t tell her was that he wanted it in a way that felt a bit more compulsive than his other desires. The thought of clean smooth skin between her legs, every hidden fold and cleft exposed to his eyes and his fingers and his mouth was almost too much.

So when the day finally came, it had gotten him so worked up, he broke one of his personal rules and played hooky from work. He didn’t even feel a bit guilty, though. He was hard as he jumped in a cab. The minute he sat down he checked his phone, hoping for another bit of information or another picture.

“I left work. I’m on my way home. All I can think about is going down on you,” he wrote.

“Oh? You’re in such a rush! I might let you. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to tease you first. I don’t want you thinking I’m easy. I’m having lunch. I’ll text you in a bit.”

He was crushed. She had made it sound like a sure thing. He pounded on the seat and the taxi driver glared back at him.

Back at his apartment he made his bed. He paced and checked his phone again and again. He remembered kissing her, how soft her lips were, how she melted into his embrace.

His cock was hard again and his body itching to touch her.

“Hopping on the train, I’ll be there in a bit. I hope you’re being a patient boy. I’ll want a drink when I get in and then to see if you are a good as I remember,” she wrote.

He growled and stomped around his apartment. He chilled some champagne to have ready for her the minute she entered. He made his bed again with his fancy sheets. He fluffed his pillows, he poured himself a whiskey to soothe his nerves.

He remembered how wet she got when she was with him, how it shocked him when he finally got his hand between her legs. How her pretty face changed when he fingered her. From smart and cool, to desperate and wonton, biting her own lip and whispered things in Spanish he didn’t understand.

“I’m being as patient as I can, but I want you so badly I can hardly stand it,” he typed.

The next picture was of the top of her summer dress, white with blue and red flowers and a deep neckline revealing the curve of her breasts.

“You are driving me crazy,” he wrote.

“Good,” she replied with a little smile emoji.

He tried to plan what he would do first. Offer her a drink? Kiss her? Take her things?

When the buzzer went off, he quickly pressed the intercom and let her in his building. He stood by the door waiting for the elevator to open and Marisol to appear. It took forever. His foot tapped on the floor and he stood with the door open, like a puppy waiting for its owner to arrive home.

Then the elevator finally arrived and she was even taller and more beautiful than he remembered. She had a wide smile as she pushed past him and into his apartment. He closed and locked the door and followed her into his living room. He watched her drop her shopping bags and her purse. He was startled when she turned on him suddenly, grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him hard on the lips.

The shock passed quickly as he fell into the hypnotic softness of her lips and her body again. All the want that had been building was still there, nervous energy in his veins, but he took the moment to revel in the decadence of her warm kiss. His hands settled on her wide hips.

Then suddenly she tangled him in her arms and legs and he fell to the floor. She was on top of him, kissing him wildly and pinning his hands to the carpet. He tried to breathe between kisses as he quickly became completely overcome by the smell of her perfume and shampoo and her curly hair eclipsed the lights.

When she wrestled him to the ground he found the fight he would have normally had disappeared. His body begged to be pinned by her. The thought of her on top of him made him freeze, give in, dizzy with a new hunger.

His elbows were instantly raw from being pressed into the rug. He was hyper aware of the tightness of his pants and boxers and socks and his seemingly endless clothes, as she, in only a flowing dress, forced him down, and enveloped him under it.

Her knees were on his arms as she settled herself down, hovering inches from his face.

The light was filtered through the white cotton, with the shadows of flowers everywhere. He saw the pink of her panties above him, the only barrier between him and heaven.

She pulled those pink panties to the side and he saw the smooth slit of her pussy. It was everything he wanted. She lowered herself in what seemed like slow motion.

The bare triangle between her thighs made his mouth water. He bit his lip in anticipation. How the freshly waxed skin was slightly lighter than her thigh’s light brown, as if holding on to tan lines from the summer. How as she moved down the slit of her pussy opened, showing soft pink folds that were visibly wet. As she hovered, teasing him, she moved one hand between her legs to open her lips with her fingers, exposing her clit.

He let out an animal sound, something desperate and wild with want. It made her chuckle.

“Poor thing. You want to taste so badly don’t you? What do you say?” she chided.

He didn’t know. Was there something he was supposed to say? Then it came to him.

“P-please? Please!” The need in his voice frightened him.

She stood and his heart dropped. He realized after a moment that she was just pulling her panties off. They fell down her legs and landed on his chest, before she stepped out of them. She smiled at him and then her descent continued. He rose up to meet her body. Then finally, finally after so much waiting and wanting, his mouth met the salty perfection of her honey lips. He groaned loudly into her thighs. All other thoughts disappeared and there was only eating her pussy. There was only licking and sucking as well as he could.

Every moan from her was golden for him. Every note of her gasps and whimpers was like a symphony.

The world was slick smooth skin and the smell of her pussy. His brain switched to a single goal: to make her come. His vision narrowed and adjusted to the darkness under her dress. He saw only flashes of her light brown skin and coral and pink and heaven. His own hard desire was secondary. Breathing was secondary. All that mattered was making her come.

With one hand, she pulled up her dress and with the other she took hold of his hair. She pulled his hair and pushed herself into her favorite position, her moans rising and falling as he found the spots that pleased her the most.

His arms were throbbing where her knees dug into them but the pain added to the sensation of being all hers. Hers to use or hurt however she liked.

As he licked and sucked and kissed she would occasionally push down on him, totally covering his mouth and nose, and the acute biological panic would start as his air supply vanished. Still, he licked and tried his best to keep going, to keep pleasing her.

She would let him up and he would quickly gasp for air before going back.

She rode his face, he stiffened his tongue and she fucked herself on it, her whole body rocking against him, then she ground her clit into his tongue and he circled and sucked it. Over and over she went from one thing to another until she was rising up, her cries faster and higher.

She pulled his hair harder. His tongue was getting sore and numb, but stopping was unimaginable. He wasn’t a person anymore, he was just a toy for her to use.

His mind exploded with need. Please come! Please, please, please, his mind repeated like a mantra.

When she finally did come it was like a dam burst. She screamed out, pulling his hair so tight and pressing down so hard he saw stars.

Then, where there was motion and pressure, there was nothing. She slipped off him and lay on the floor next to him, both of them panting.

He caught his breath, still in ecstasy, and then turned to face her.

She lay there with a wide content smile.

“That was-” she started, but Henry crawled between her legs, pushing her dress up, and, cupping her ass in his hands, went back to licking her.

The hunger was like a monster inside of him and he couldn’t contain it. He closed his eyes and continued going down on her, the smell of her and the taste of her becoming oxygen for him. With free hands, he slipped two fingers into her.

She didn’t object, and with his fingers pushing into her she was overtaken by new pleasure. She closed her eyes and fell back into the cycle of of another orgasm, her body quickly building. Everything was building and building until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Henry’s fingers pushed up as his mouth covered her clit and he sucked, his tongue making steady circles. That seemed to be the trick to push her into some new space.

Then suddenly she sat up and pushed him away. She grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss.

“Okay, that’s enough of that. I need to get fucked now. Right now,” she said, staring right into his eyes.

His pants and jacket were off in a flash, then his shirt and tie, then his socks and boxers. She watched him fumble around as she got up and walked casually to his bedroom. She slipped off her dress, then her bra, and then, lithely, like a cat, she crawled onto his bed, falling back on his pillows and spreading her legs.

As he stood and watched from the foot of the bed, she grabbed her large breasts and squeezed them, seeming to enjoy his reaction as much as their softness.

He climbed between her legs, his mouth going right between her thighs, but she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up.

“No, no, it’s time to fuck me,” she said, enjoying his enthusiasm, but wanting his cock.

He moved in and kissed her, pressing his flat chest against her breasts and slipping his arms around her. He kissed her neck and then down her chest, sucking each of her nipples in turn. She felt his cock, hard, against her thigh, and she raised her hips trying to get him to slip into her.

He laughed a little then, suddenly aware of her desire and his taste of control.

He kissed back up to her neck and whispered into her ear, “Is it your turn to say please?”

Her face darkened and her hand went up to his hair again.

“No, it’s my turn to say now, unless you don’t want to get to taste your favorite thing anymore.”

He swallowed, laughing at his own foolishness. She was in charge.

He pressed into her body as he reached over to the nightstand and got a condom.

She reached down and stroked his cock, purring at the hardness. Then she pushed his head down.

“One more quick taste before you fuck me,” she whispered.

He was on his knees in front of her in an instant, groaning as his tongue slipped between her lips again. She braced herself against the headboard as he resumed deftly making circles around her clit with his tongue.

Henry was once again lost in the smell and the taste of her. He had learned the motion and the pressure and the speed she liked and went back to trying to make her come again. He let out a whine when she tugged at his hair. He still wanted more, but she pulled him away with a laugh. He was insatiable, but he relented reluctantly.

“Time to fuck me,” she commanded and pulled him by the hair to kiss her.

As he kissed her, he fumbled with the condom. The feeling of it slipping over him made him shudder.

He moved up her body and with one swift push he was inside of her, her legs spreading to let him in deep. Then he pounded into her, hands on her sides, fingers digging into her fat hips, grunting with every thrust. His cock ached from being teased for so long. The need he had felt all day was coming to an head. He rammed into her, feeling impossibly deep.

She was wetter and wetter, one hand braced against the bed and the other squeezing her own breast, pinching the nipple hard. Another orgasm, a different one, something deep inside of her, was coming fast, like a train.

His rhythm was fast and steady, his body tense, the muscles of his arms taut, his jaw clenched.

She pushed one of her hands between them, moving her fingers between her legs, furiously rubbing her clit as he fucked her. That was the push she needed, and her was coming. It was like she was pushed off a cliff and ready to hit the ground.

The sounds she made when she came, the high desperate moan, mixed with the clenching of her pussy around him and the look of ecstasy on her face made Henry unable to stop himself from coming too. He shouted “fuck” and pounded his fist on the mattress as he came over and over again, almost painfully, his body finally letting go of the tension that had been building all day.

And then there was silence, except for the sound of their panting.

Minutes passed and they might have drifted into little naps, they weren’t sure. But at some point, Henry got up and brought her a cool damp washcloth and poured her a glass of champagne. She sat up and sipped with with a smile, sighing deeply.

“That was a perfect finish,” she said, downing the drink and holding out her glass for more.

He refilled her glass, glowing with pride.

“You’re spoiling me. I feel like a queen,” she laughed, stretching her arms and legs and reveling in the pleasure.

“Maybe if you are a good boy this can be our thing. Like, every time I get waxed I will come over and let you get first licks.”

“I couldn’t imagine anything better,” he said, refilling her glass.

She smiled even wider, his greedy queen, and he swore to pamper her in every way he could think of.

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