Model onthe showroom floor part1
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Sex In The Dressing Room Part 1 free porn video
"Let's go in here," Valerie said, towing Simon by his hand into one of the mall's many clothing stores.
"You're the boss, boss," he said in his cocky baritone.
As far as first dates went, Valerie thought theirs was going well. This was her first time ever meeting a guy through a dating site, and she had half expected him to show up fat and thirty years older than in his profile picture. Alas, he was every bit the tall, scruffy, tattooed twenty-eight-year-old she'd agreed to meet. He was nothing like other guys she had dated; she was only nineteen, and she had never dated anyone more than a few years older than her. She also usually went for the clean-cut preppy guys, so he was definitely something new. But he was tall, fun, and he didn't seem insecure like every other guy out there. Yes, she had had far worse first dates.
"What do you think of this?" Valerie asked, holding up a fitted black long-sleeve and posing with it.
"Eh, I think it'd look better on me."
He snatched it out of her hands and mimicked the pose she had used. He was so tall that it wouldn't have covered half of his midriff.
"Yeah, I think I'd definitely look better in it."
"I can see that. It would really bring out your belly button."
"I don't need some shirt to bring that out. I can do that myself. See?"
He lifted his T-shirt halfway up to show rippling abs that were absolutely unreal. The T-shirt dropped again all too soon, just as her eyes were following the dark line of his happy trail to where it disappeared below his waistband.
"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, smirking at her.
She was embarrassed to realize that she was still staring, as if she could will the shirt to lift itself up again.
"Hmm. Maybe you're right. That shirt might look better on you," she conceded.
He grinned and threw the shirt over his shoulder, then went to a rack of skimpy dresses. After rifling through them for a few moments, he presented a green dress with an open back and a plunging neckline. It was so short that Valerie wasn't entirely convinced that it could cover all of her important bits.
"Absolutely not," she said.
"Why?" he said. "You'd look good. Could show some skin instead of dressing like my little brother."
She looked at what she was wearing self-consciously. She wore skinny jeans, flats, and a hooded sweater that didn't exactly accentuate her assets. He was right; she did kind of dress like a guy.
"Fair point," she said. "If you're buying, maybe we can girlify me after all."
She snagged the shirt and dress from on his shoulder.
"Any other wardrobe recommendations?"
"Well, who knows what you're wearing under all...that," he gestured at her sweater.
"Don't push it," she said, but she reluctantly followed him as he made his way over to the lingerie section.
He picked out a dark red G-string and held it up against the green dress.
"Christmas colors?"
She glared at him and took it from him to look at the tag.
"This is even in my size." She raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know my size? Or was that just a lucky guess?"
He shrugged and started picking out other articles of clothing, seemingly at random, leading her toward the far side of the room.
"Simon, slow down. I was k**ding about making you buy me clothes. I don't actually need you to get me anything."
"Don't worry about it, babe. We're just going to have you try some of them on to see how hot we can make you look."
Babe? Who the hell does he think he is?
She would have said something, but he was already making his way toward the dressing rooms.
"Come on!" he called back to her has he went in.
Red G-string still clutched in her white-knuckled fist, she jogged after him.
This date might last long after all.
When she caught up with him, he was leaning against one of the empty dressing areas with a pile of clothes folded over one of his arms, that increasingly irritating smirk plastered to his face again.
"Simon, you have like forty things there. I'm not going to try all of that on, okay? And don't call me babe. This is a first date, and it's going to be a last date if you keep calling me babe."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Jeez. You were the one who wanted to go shopping. Don't hold it against me for being enthusiastic."
Simon was right. Maybe she was overreacting.
He must have seen her resolve falter, because he grinned again and offered the armful of clothes with a sweeping bow.
She shook her head and took the clothes from him a bit more forcefully than was necessary.
He held the door open for her as she walked in, and she set the clothes down on the bench as the door closed behind her.
"So what are we trying on first?" he said by her ear.
She jumped and spun around with a half squeal, but he clamped his hand over her mouth and put a finger over his lips.
"Woah. Easy there, babe. It's just me."
Her eyes were wide, and her legs shook with adrenaline as he slowly removed his hand from her mouth.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing, Simon?" she said in a quiet voice that sounded a lot calmer than it should have. "And I just told you not to call me babe."
"I'm just here to lend a hand, you know, with trying the clothes on."
He casually leaned against the door so that she couldn't open it.
"I'll scream."
"Will you really?"
He folded his arms and waited.
She didn't scream.
"So, you going to try the clothes on? We've still got a movie to catch later."
"I'm not getting undressed in front of you, Simon. I don't even know you, and this is super weird. Just move, please."
She lowered her voice as she heard a woman talking on the phone enter the dressing area.
"Yeah, I'm trying them on right now. Are we still going to that art show downtown tonight?"
A door a few stalls over opened and closed.
"I'll tell you what," Simon said in a hushed voice as he looked down at her. "One kiss, and I'll let you walk right out that door without stopping you. Promise."
"I'm not giving you a kiss, you jerk," she said in a harsh whisper.
"Then I guess we're going to be here for a while."
"I'm only telling you one more time."
He yawned in response.
Valerie hit him with a closed fist. It wasn't hard, due more to her not knowing how to throw a punch than for lack of effort, and it probably hurt her hand more than it hurt his face, but she socked him in the jaw all the same.
"Come on," he said, standing a little bit closer, "you can do better than that."
She hit him again, harder this time, but he didn't flinch. She, on the other hand, was trembling uncontrollably from all the adrenaline.
"That was a little better."
He was standing even closer now, and he was so tall that she had to tilt her head all the way back to look him in the eyes.
"Just one kiss? You promise?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
"I promise."
He moved his lips closer, but he stopped halfway and watched her with those mocking gray eyes.
This is crazy. What in the hell am I doing? He's a creep, and I need to scream and run and get out of here right now. Just one kiss.
She shut her eyes and closed the distance between their lips.
Simon had full lips for a guy, and his were hot. His tongue was hotter, and it was sliding over, around and under hers before she even realized she was kissing him with an open mouth. Even though she knew better, she explored his tongue with her own. Then she felt a sharp pain, and she realized that he'd trapped her tongue between his teeth. The son of a bitch had bitten her!
Her eyes flew open, and she shoved him off of her, half considering punching him again.
He took a step back, most traces of smirk gone. Then he opened the door and stood aside, waiting, his eyes never leaving hers.
Walk out the door and leave. Leave while you can before he changes his mind. Come on, Valerie. Don't be an idiot.
She slowly closed the door and shut it so that it wouldn't make too much noise.
He didn't say a damn thing for a handful of heartbeats, and all that Valerie could hear was the radio playing over the intercom and the lady talking on her phone. The silence got uncomfortable, and she started to regret staying. Behind Simon, she could see her reflection, and the skinny blond girl staring back at her looked just as small and fragile as she felt.
"Lose the sweater," he said in a hushed tone, his voice more a low rumble than a whisper.
She took it off and remembered, to her dismay, that she wasn't wearing a bra. All that she wore under the sweater was a white tank top that left very little to the imagination. The worst part about it all was that she hardly even needed a bra anyway. Her friends had always teased her about having the body of a twelve-year-old boy, and even now she didn't have much of a chest. She couldn't have been sure if it was from the nerves or the cold, but her nipples hardened as she slipped out of the sweater, poking at the thin fabric and leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable under Simon's impassive scrutiny.
What if he laughs at me? I'm so damn skinny that he's probably disgusted.
He examined her like a piece of meat, coming closer and cupping her small breast in his hand, testing its firmness, squeezing just a little too hard, casually rolling her nipple between his forefinger and thumb. After he was done with that breast, her nipple was hard enough to cut glass. And then he did the same to her other breast, his head cocked a bit to the side as he watched her reactions, enjoying her conflicting discomfort and undisguised arousal. A familiar ache between her thighs began to throb in time with her pulse, and it was all she could do not to reach down and coax it further.
What the hell, Valerie? This is insane. You are not a slut. Only sluts do stuff like this. At least five dates. That was the rule.
He must have seen a trace of doubt flicker across her face, because he pinched her nipple. Hard.
She stifled a squeal and reached up to stop him, but he caught her wrist in an iron grip and spun her around, pinning her arm behind her back in the same motion. He held her with her face so close to the cold mirror that her every labored breath fogged it.
Valerie watched him in the reflection as he pressed against her and ran his rough hand down her tiny ribcage, over her hip, and down the side of her leg. Then he gently grabbed a fistful of her hair and swept it aside so that the nape of her neck was exposed. A shiver ran down her spine as his bristly chin brushed her neck and shoulder. He inhaled slowly, smelling her perfume, and then she felt his hot breath right before his even hotter lips seared her shoulder. He left a trail of hot, lazy kisses up her shoulder until he reached the nape of her neck. And then, locking eyes with her in the mirror, he sank his teeth into her—not too hard, but hard enough that it hurt. His tongue flitted over her skin, and then she felt just the slightest bit of suction before he let her go. Saliva cooled where just a moment earlier his mouth had scorched her.
He took both of her thin wrists in one big hand and pinned them up against the mirror so that they were over her head with his weight holding them there.
"Go ahead," he said, looking at her in the mirror. "Try to break free."
She tugged against his iron grip to see if she could get loose, but he didn't budge an inch. She knew that no amount of kicking, screaming, or struggling would be enough for her to overpower him. Valerie was completely at his mercy.
"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked.
Simon didn't respond for a few moments. He looked to be deep in thought as he lightly ran his free hand over her flank and under the back of her shirt, tracing his fingertips up and down the curve of her spine in tantalizing brushstrokes that set her to shaking.
"Yes," he said. "I'm going to hurt you. And you won't have a damn choice but to like it."
He slid his hand around and under her shirt to tease her navel for a moment as he pressed against her from behind so heavily that she had to lean back into him to keep from being crushed against the mirror. He was definitely hard—she could tell that much—and she knew without looking that he was particularly well endowed. The length of him felt like a hot brand against her back, and she wished more than anything that her hands were free so that she could wrap her them around it and see just how big it really was.
The damn lady was still yammering into her phone. At least she wouldn't hear them if she was busy talking.
Simon kissed her neck again and pulled her shirt up over her breasts, completely exposing them to the cold air so that her nipples became even harder. He kept running his hands up and down her body for a time, touching her everywhere except where she wanted to be touched most. The bastard was absolutely torturing her, and she couldn't even move.
He locked eyes with her in the mirror and slowly slipped his forefinger into her waistband. Then he began slowly running his fingertip from her hip bone and back around to near her ass, then back up to the front. It started with just his fingertip, but he began slowly working the finger deeper, getting dangerously close to her hot mound without ever actually touching it.
Her lips formed a small O as she fought to control her breathing and keep from making any noise. Valerie couldn't help that she was naturally loud, and she was terrified that somebody would hear her. She didn't care to think about how much trouble they would get in if they got caught.
"How many guys have you fucked, Valerie?" he asked as he began to undo the top button of her jeans, his cock still pressed firmly against her.
Why would he possibly want to know that? Do I lie? Does he want me to be more experienced? Less?
"And try don't lie to me. I'll be able to tell. I'm good at reading people. If you lie to me, I'll have to punish you."
He's a fucking mind reader.
"I... two," she said, hoping she hadn't failed some test and condemned herself to a fate of more unbearable torture.
"Two? I thought all you college girls were supposed to be slutty and rebellious, getting back at Daddy and all that. Do you hate your daddy?"
He undid another button and ran his finger back and forth along the inside of her panties' waistband. She could feel her wetness sticking and unsticking to the fabric with every pass that finger made as it slowly went lower and lower until it was lightly brushing against her immaculately trimmed pubic hair.
"No, I don't hate my dad," she said. "And I'm not a slut."
He undid the last button, and she had to spread her knees to keep her jeans from falling all the way down. To her chagrin, there was a dark splotch on her white cotton panties where her juices had sopped completely through.
"Keep telling yourself that," he said.
She began to say something, but he stuck two of his fingers in her mouth and thrust them deep enough that her eyes watered and she had to fight not to gag.
He withdrew his fingers and grinned at her as she coughed.
"You were saying?"
Her anger got the best of her, and she raised her voice. "What the hell did you do that for? You don't have to jam your whole hand halfway—"
She moaned in pain, surprise, and pleasure as he stuck his hand down her panties and slipped a wet finger into her.
The woman had stopped talking on the phone, and all she could hear was Simon's quiet chuckling and her own ragged breaths. She bit down on her lip hard to keep from making any more noise.
"Damn, babe," he whispered, "you weren't lying about only being with two guys. I was barely able to get just the one finger in you. Let's see about..."
She tasted blood from her lip as he forced a second finger into her. She rested her forehead against the mirror and squeezed her eyes shut as he went deep and pressed against her G-spot softly at first, then with more pressure.
"See, that wasn't too bad."
He slowly slid his fingers out and rubbed her juices up her lips and over her clit. She thought she would be able to hold her silence, but then he slipped the fingers in and out of her again and began rubbing her throbbing clit in slow, firm circles. And a moan escaped her lips. Loudly.
There was utter silence for a moment, then the door to the other stall slammed open, and Valerie heard muttering and quick footsteps as the lady left the dressing area.
"About time," Simon said. "I was starting to wonder if she was sticking around for an invitation."
"What if she tells someone?" Valerie asked, her voice wavering as he continued to rub her.
"You always worry this much? No wonder you've only gotten with two guys. You need to loosen up."
A scream caught in her throat as he forced a third finger into her and plunged deep. She bucked so hard that one of her hands broke free.
"Simon," she moaned, "it's too much... It hurts."
She grabbed his wrist with her free hand and tried to stop him, but he was too strong. When she pulled at his wrist, it just rubbed his palm against her wet clit and sent more shockwaves of pleasure up and down her body. She gave up trying to pull his fingers out of her and left her hand where it was, feeling the bands of muscle in his forearm flex every time he dug his fingers deep against her swollen G-spot.
Three fingers! I can't believe I have three huge fingers in me!
"Of course it hurts, sweetheart," he said. "But it feels good too, which is kind of the point."
She couldn't argue with him.
Valerie reached behind her to feel his bulge—it was so damn big!—and started trying to undo his belt.
"Not so fast," he said. "I'm not done with you yet."
He slowly slid his fingers free and gave her one last slow, fantastic rub before taking his hand out of her panties and spinning her around so that her back was against the mirror.
She wanted—needed—his lips. She tried to kiss him, but he grabbed her by the chin and stuck his slick fingers in her mouth. He held her fast when she tried to turn away and keep from tasting herself. She'd never done... that—it was disgusting and wrong—but she stopped fighting him; she let go.
Valerie rolled her tongue over his fingers and tasted her own fluids for the first time. She had expected it to taste terrible, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was slightly tangy and sweet, like overripe citrus. And she could smell her sweet musk on his hand when she inhaled. It was so wrong, but it felt so right.
"Mmm," was all she managed to say.
She didn't want to let him go when he withdrew his fingers, but then he kissed her—for real—and absolutely nothing else mattered for a few long moments. She bit his lip, and he didn't so much as wince. He just kept kissing her and began rhythmically grinding against her, his cock hard against her stomach.
Simon crushed one of her breasts in a big hand and got down on his knees in front of her, rolling a nipple between his wet fingers and thumb as he left a trail of kisses down her stomach and abdomen, then down even lower.
Valerie cried out but didn't try to stop him. There was no stopping now. She just tangled her fingers in his messy hair and concentrated on trying not to make any noise.
Simon buried his face in her crotch and began kissing, nibbling, then licking her up and down the creases of her inner thighs. His hot tongue dragged over the hollow of her leg and the pulsing pulse of her femoral artery, then back down again, so close to yet so far from where she wanted to be licked and sucked most.
He breathed in deeply one last time as if savoring her musk, then slowly peeled her panties off with both hands. She was so wet that they stuck to her until the very end, when they came free with an audible squelch that embarrassed and turned her on at the same time. The sodden panties dropped to around her ankles along with her jean.
"You're the boss, boss," he said in his cocky baritone.
As far as first dates went, Valerie thought theirs was going well. This was her first time ever meeting a guy through a dating site, and she had half expected him to show up fat and thirty years older than in his profile picture. Alas, he was every bit the tall, scruffy, tattooed twenty-eight-year-old she'd agreed to meet. He was nothing like other guys she had dated; she was only nineteen, and she had never dated anyone more than a few years older than her. She also usually went for the clean-cut preppy guys, so he was definitely something new. But he was tall, fun, and he didn't seem insecure like every other guy out there. Yes, she had had far worse first dates.
"What do you think of this?" Valerie asked, holding up a fitted black long-sleeve and posing with it.
"Eh, I think it'd look better on me."
He snatched it out of her hands and mimicked the pose she had used. He was so tall that it wouldn't have covered half of his midriff.
"Yeah, I think I'd definitely look better in it."
"I can see that. It would really bring out your belly button."
"I don't need some shirt to bring that out. I can do that myself. See?"
He lifted his T-shirt halfway up to show rippling abs that were absolutely unreal. The T-shirt dropped again all too soon, just as her eyes were following the dark line of his happy trail to where it disappeared below his waistband.
"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, smirking at her.
She was embarrassed to realize that she was still staring, as if she could will the shirt to lift itself up again.
"Hmm. Maybe you're right. That shirt might look better on you," she conceded.
He grinned and threw the shirt over his shoulder, then went to a rack of skimpy dresses. After rifling through them for a few moments, he presented a green dress with an open back and a plunging neckline. It was so short that Valerie wasn't entirely convinced that it could cover all of her important bits.
"Absolutely not," she said.
"Why?" he said. "You'd look good. Could show some skin instead of dressing like my little brother."
She looked at what she was wearing self-consciously. She wore skinny jeans, flats, and a hooded sweater that didn't exactly accentuate her assets. He was right; she did kind of dress like a guy.
"Fair point," she said. "If you're buying, maybe we can girlify me after all."
She snagged the shirt and dress from on his shoulder.
"Any other wardrobe recommendations?"
"Well, who knows what you're wearing under all...that," he gestured at her sweater.
"Don't push it," she said, but she reluctantly followed him as he made his way over to the lingerie section.
He picked out a dark red G-string and held it up against the green dress.
"Christmas colors?"
She glared at him and took it from him to look at the tag.
"This is even in my size." She raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know my size? Or was that just a lucky guess?"
He shrugged and started picking out other articles of clothing, seemingly at random, leading her toward the far side of the room.
"Simon, slow down. I was k**ding about making you buy me clothes. I don't actually need you to get me anything."
"Don't worry about it, babe. We're just going to have you try some of them on to see how hot we can make you look."
Babe? Who the hell does he think he is?
She would have said something, but he was already making his way toward the dressing rooms.
"Come on!" he called back to her has he went in.
Red G-string still clutched in her white-knuckled fist, she jogged after him.
This date might last long after all.
When she caught up with him, he was leaning against one of the empty dressing areas with a pile of clothes folded over one of his arms, that increasingly irritating smirk plastered to his face again.
"Simon, you have like forty things there. I'm not going to try all of that on, okay? And don't call me babe. This is a first date, and it's going to be a last date if you keep calling me babe."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Jeez. You were the one who wanted to go shopping. Don't hold it against me for being enthusiastic."
Simon was right. Maybe she was overreacting.
He must have seen her resolve falter, because he grinned again and offered the armful of clothes with a sweeping bow.
She shook her head and took the clothes from him a bit more forcefully than was necessary.
He held the door open for her as she walked in, and she set the clothes down on the bench as the door closed behind her.
"So what are we trying on first?" he said by her ear.
She jumped and spun around with a half squeal, but he clamped his hand over her mouth and put a finger over his lips.
"Woah. Easy there, babe. It's just me."
Her eyes were wide, and her legs shook with adrenaline as he slowly removed his hand from her mouth.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing, Simon?" she said in a quiet voice that sounded a lot calmer than it should have. "And I just told you not to call me babe."
"I'm just here to lend a hand, you know, with trying the clothes on."
He casually leaned against the door so that she couldn't open it.
"I'll scream."
"Will you really?"
He folded his arms and waited.
She didn't scream.
"So, you going to try the clothes on? We've still got a movie to catch later."
"I'm not getting undressed in front of you, Simon. I don't even know you, and this is super weird. Just move, please."
She lowered her voice as she heard a woman talking on the phone enter the dressing area.
"Yeah, I'm trying them on right now. Are we still going to that art show downtown tonight?"
A door a few stalls over opened and closed.
"I'll tell you what," Simon said in a hushed voice as he looked down at her. "One kiss, and I'll let you walk right out that door without stopping you. Promise."
"I'm not giving you a kiss, you jerk," she said in a harsh whisper.
"Then I guess we're going to be here for a while."
"I'm only telling you one more time."
He yawned in response.
Valerie hit him with a closed fist. It wasn't hard, due more to her not knowing how to throw a punch than for lack of effort, and it probably hurt her hand more than it hurt his face, but she socked him in the jaw all the same.
"Come on," he said, standing a little bit closer, "you can do better than that."
She hit him again, harder this time, but he didn't flinch. She, on the other hand, was trembling uncontrollably from all the adrenaline.
"That was a little better."
He was standing even closer now, and he was so tall that she had to tilt her head all the way back to look him in the eyes.
"Just one kiss? You promise?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
"I promise."
He moved his lips closer, but he stopped halfway and watched her with those mocking gray eyes.
This is crazy. What in the hell am I doing? He's a creep, and I need to scream and run and get out of here right now. Just one kiss.
She shut her eyes and closed the distance between their lips.
Simon had full lips for a guy, and his were hot. His tongue was hotter, and it was sliding over, around and under hers before she even realized she was kissing him with an open mouth. Even though she knew better, she explored his tongue with her own. Then she felt a sharp pain, and she realized that he'd trapped her tongue between his teeth. The son of a bitch had bitten her!
Her eyes flew open, and she shoved him off of her, half considering punching him again.
He took a step back, most traces of smirk gone. Then he opened the door and stood aside, waiting, his eyes never leaving hers.
Walk out the door and leave. Leave while you can before he changes his mind. Come on, Valerie. Don't be an idiot.
She slowly closed the door and shut it so that it wouldn't make too much noise.
He didn't say a damn thing for a handful of heartbeats, and all that Valerie could hear was the radio playing over the intercom and the lady talking on her phone. The silence got uncomfortable, and she started to regret staying. Behind Simon, she could see her reflection, and the skinny blond girl staring back at her looked just as small and fragile as she felt.
"Lose the sweater," he said in a hushed tone, his voice more a low rumble than a whisper.
She took it off and remembered, to her dismay, that she wasn't wearing a bra. All that she wore under the sweater was a white tank top that left very little to the imagination. The worst part about it all was that she hardly even needed a bra anyway. Her friends had always teased her about having the body of a twelve-year-old boy, and even now she didn't have much of a chest. She couldn't have been sure if it was from the nerves or the cold, but her nipples hardened as she slipped out of the sweater, poking at the thin fabric and leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable under Simon's impassive scrutiny.
What if he laughs at me? I'm so damn skinny that he's probably disgusted.
He examined her like a piece of meat, coming closer and cupping her small breast in his hand, testing its firmness, squeezing just a little too hard, casually rolling her nipple between his forefinger and thumb. After he was done with that breast, her nipple was hard enough to cut glass. And then he did the same to her other breast, his head cocked a bit to the side as he watched her reactions, enjoying her conflicting discomfort and undisguised arousal. A familiar ache between her thighs began to throb in time with her pulse, and it was all she could do not to reach down and coax it further.
What the hell, Valerie? This is insane. You are not a slut. Only sluts do stuff like this. At least five dates. That was the rule.
He must have seen a trace of doubt flicker across her face, because he pinched her nipple. Hard.
She stifled a squeal and reached up to stop him, but he caught her wrist in an iron grip and spun her around, pinning her arm behind her back in the same motion. He held her with her face so close to the cold mirror that her every labored breath fogged it.
Valerie watched him in the reflection as he pressed against her and ran his rough hand down her tiny ribcage, over her hip, and down the side of her leg. Then he gently grabbed a fistful of her hair and swept it aside so that the nape of her neck was exposed. A shiver ran down her spine as his bristly chin brushed her neck and shoulder. He inhaled slowly, smelling her perfume, and then she felt his hot breath right before his even hotter lips seared her shoulder. He left a trail of hot, lazy kisses up her shoulder until he reached the nape of her neck. And then, locking eyes with her in the mirror, he sank his teeth into her—not too hard, but hard enough that it hurt. His tongue flitted over her skin, and then she felt just the slightest bit of suction before he let her go. Saliva cooled where just a moment earlier his mouth had scorched her.
He took both of her thin wrists in one big hand and pinned them up against the mirror so that they were over her head with his weight holding them there.
"Go ahead," he said, looking at her in the mirror. "Try to break free."
She tugged against his iron grip to see if she could get loose, but he didn't budge an inch. She knew that no amount of kicking, screaming, or struggling would be enough for her to overpower him. Valerie was completely at his mercy.
"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked.
Simon didn't respond for a few moments. He looked to be deep in thought as he lightly ran his free hand over her flank and under the back of her shirt, tracing his fingertips up and down the curve of her spine in tantalizing brushstrokes that set her to shaking.
"Yes," he said. "I'm going to hurt you. And you won't have a damn choice but to like it."
He slid his hand around and under her shirt to tease her navel for a moment as he pressed against her from behind so heavily that she had to lean back into him to keep from being crushed against the mirror. He was definitely hard—she could tell that much—and she knew without looking that he was particularly well endowed. The length of him felt like a hot brand against her back, and she wished more than anything that her hands were free so that she could wrap her them around it and see just how big it really was.
The damn lady was still yammering into her phone. At least she wouldn't hear them if she was busy talking.
Simon kissed her neck again and pulled her shirt up over her breasts, completely exposing them to the cold air so that her nipples became even harder. He kept running his hands up and down her body for a time, touching her everywhere except where she wanted to be touched most. The bastard was absolutely torturing her, and she couldn't even move.
He locked eyes with her in the mirror and slowly slipped his forefinger into her waistband. Then he began slowly running his fingertip from her hip bone and back around to near her ass, then back up to the front. It started with just his fingertip, but he began slowly working the finger deeper, getting dangerously close to her hot mound without ever actually touching it.
Her lips formed a small O as she fought to control her breathing and keep from making any noise. Valerie couldn't help that she was naturally loud, and she was terrified that somebody would hear her. She didn't care to think about how much trouble they would get in if they got caught.
"How many guys have you fucked, Valerie?" he asked as he began to undo the top button of her jeans, his cock still pressed firmly against her.
Why would he possibly want to know that? Do I lie? Does he want me to be more experienced? Less?
"And try don't lie to me. I'll be able to tell. I'm good at reading people. If you lie to me, I'll have to punish you."
He's a fucking mind reader.
"I... two," she said, hoping she hadn't failed some test and condemned herself to a fate of more unbearable torture.
"Two? I thought all you college girls were supposed to be slutty and rebellious, getting back at Daddy and all that. Do you hate your daddy?"
He undid another button and ran his finger back and forth along the inside of her panties' waistband. She could feel her wetness sticking and unsticking to the fabric with every pass that finger made as it slowly went lower and lower until it was lightly brushing against her immaculately trimmed pubic hair.
"No, I don't hate my dad," she said. "And I'm not a slut."
He undid the last button, and she had to spread her knees to keep her jeans from falling all the way down. To her chagrin, there was a dark splotch on her white cotton panties where her juices had sopped completely through.
"Keep telling yourself that," he said.
She began to say something, but he stuck two of his fingers in her mouth and thrust them deep enough that her eyes watered and she had to fight not to gag.
He withdrew his fingers and grinned at her as she coughed.
"You were saying?"
Her anger got the best of her, and she raised her voice. "What the hell did you do that for? You don't have to jam your whole hand halfway—"
She moaned in pain, surprise, and pleasure as he stuck his hand down her panties and slipped a wet finger into her.
The woman had stopped talking on the phone, and all she could hear was Simon's quiet chuckling and her own ragged breaths. She bit down on her lip hard to keep from making any more noise.
"Damn, babe," he whispered, "you weren't lying about only being with two guys. I was barely able to get just the one finger in you. Let's see about..."
She tasted blood from her lip as he forced a second finger into her. She rested her forehead against the mirror and squeezed her eyes shut as he went deep and pressed against her G-spot softly at first, then with more pressure.
"See, that wasn't too bad."
He slowly slid his fingers out and rubbed her juices up her lips and over her clit. She thought she would be able to hold her silence, but then he slipped the fingers in and out of her again and began rubbing her throbbing clit in slow, firm circles. And a moan escaped her lips. Loudly.
There was utter silence for a moment, then the door to the other stall slammed open, and Valerie heard muttering and quick footsteps as the lady left the dressing area.
"About time," Simon said. "I was starting to wonder if she was sticking around for an invitation."
"What if she tells someone?" Valerie asked, her voice wavering as he continued to rub her.
"You always worry this much? No wonder you've only gotten with two guys. You need to loosen up."
A scream caught in her throat as he forced a third finger into her and plunged deep. She bucked so hard that one of her hands broke free.
"Simon," she moaned, "it's too much... It hurts."
She grabbed his wrist with her free hand and tried to stop him, but he was too strong. When she pulled at his wrist, it just rubbed his palm against her wet clit and sent more shockwaves of pleasure up and down her body. She gave up trying to pull his fingers out of her and left her hand where it was, feeling the bands of muscle in his forearm flex every time he dug his fingers deep against her swollen G-spot.
Three fingers! I can't believe I have three huge fingers in me!
"Of course it hurts, sweetheart," he said. "But it feels good too, which is kind of the point."
She couldn't argue with him.
Valerie reached behind her to feel his bulge—it was so damn big!—and started trying to undo his belt.
"Not so fast," he said. "I'm not done with you yet."
He slowly slid his fingers free and gave her one last slow, fantastic rub before taking his hand out of her panties and spinning her around so that her back was against the mirror.
She wanted—needed—his lips. She tried to kiss him, but he grabbed her by the chin and stuck his slick fingers in her mouth. He held her fast when she tried to turn away and keep from tasting herself. She'd never done... that—it was disgusting and wrong—but she stopped fighting him; she let go.
Valerie rolled her tongue over his fingers and tasted her own fluids for the first time. She had expected it to taste terrible, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was slightly tangy and sweet, like overripe citrus. And she could smell her sweet musk on his hand when she inhaled. It was so wrong, but it felt so right.
"Mmm," was all she managed to say.
She didn't want to let him go when he withdrew his fingers, but then he kissed her—for real—and absolutely nothing else mattered for a few long moments. She bit his lip, and he didn't so much as wince. He just kept kissing her and began rhythmically grinding against her, his cock hard against her stomach.
Simon crushed one of her breasts in a big hand and got down on his knees in front of her, rolling a nipple between his wet fingers and thumb as he left a trail of kisses down her stomach and abdomen, then down even lower.
Valerie cried out but didn't try to stop him. There was no stopping now. She just tangled her fingers in his messy hair and concentrated on trying not to make any noise.
Simon buried his face in her crotch and began kissing, nibbling, then licking her up and down the creases of her inner thighs. His hot tongue dragged over the hollow of her leg and the pulsing pulse of her femoral artery, then back down again, so close to yet so far from where she wanted to be licked and sucked most.
He breathed in deeply one last time as if savoring her musk, then slowly peeled her panties off with both hands. She was so wet that they stuck to her until the very end, when they came free with an audible squelch that embarrassed and turned her on at the same time. The sodden panties dropped to around her ankles along with her jean.
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