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Setting the Trap--Part One of the Myra Series


To start with, she was my waitress at a Sushi restaurant. I had taken a date there, naturally, and not paid her--my waitress--that much attention. But for whatever reason, she kept popping into my mind, time after time. So I took a different girl there, trying to impress her with the hot chicks I dated. She wasn’t my waitress this time, but I made a point of saying hello to her, on the way to the restroom. I don’t think she remembered me. Or at least acted like she didn’t. I noticed her name was Myra.

It was odd, because she wasn’t one of those women that jumped out at you, like wow, she’s super hot. Most guys wouldn’t even consider her as hot as the two dates I had taken for sushi, but the more I looked at her and thought about her, the more attractive she became. She had short blond hair, or mostly blond—the blond was growing out, and there was about a half inch of dark brown following the blond. Most women can’t pull off hair that short, but her face was amazingly cute—wonderful eyes, a cute nose that turned up slightly, and wonderful, pouty lips. I have to confess, a couple of times, I jacked off thinking about those lips. Her body was nice. Medium size breasts, but she looked like she worked out. Definitely in shape—wonderful legs and a killer ass.

One night, late, I went in alone, and lucked out—I got her as my waitress. Tried talking to her two or threes times (she has an accent—did I mention that?—and told me where she was from, which I promptly forgot). Later, I learned, she was from Estonia. But her interest appeared to hover near zero. On any scale. So I let it go; tried to forget about her.

Nearly succeeded.

Then, near the end of summer, my friend Wendy had a dinner party, and there’s Myra. I tried to act dumb, acting like I couldn’t remember where I knew her from, but again, she couldn’t care less. And of course, looked even hotter than I remembered. She was wearing a little white summer dress with tiny polka-dots on it, showing off her wonderfully tan legs and shoulders. I wanted to reach under that dress, see if she was wearing any panties and rip them off is she was. When Wendy went into the kitchen to get another bottle of wine, I followed her in and asked about Myra. Wendy laughed, told me Myra was a lesbian and living with her girlfriend, Nicki.

Well, that explained her lack of interest, I thought. Somehow that should have made it better, but didn’t.

Of course, I end up across from her when it came time for dinner. Having to stare at that face all night. Her little smiles. Those eyes. At least dinner was distracting and phenomenal—Wendy is an amazing cook, and she did steaks, shrimp and veggies on the grill with some sort of spices/seasoning that melted in your mouth. Watching Myra eat the asparagus was pretty entertaining, too.

Dessert was the highlight of the evening. Key lime pie. And about the time I was shoveling the first forkful into my mouth, Myra’s toes found my crotch. My cock, to be exact. At first, I was worried maybe they weren’t Myra’s toes, and the woman next to her was married, with her husband sitting next to her. So I dropped my fork, and sure enough, they were Myra’s. When I popped back up, she asked me if everything was okay. Awesome, I told her, everything is awesome. And with that, she squeezed my cock between her toes and the pad of her foot.

My cock started to get hard. A mad, hot rush. Did I mention I have a thing for feet? Not all feet, but some…not really a fetish. Well, maybe half a fetish.

I put my hand in my lap, ran it over her foot. Massaged it. Felt her ankle and up her leg, enjoying the smoothness of her calf. Her toes kept squeezing, or pushing on my cock, making it harder and harder, until I was having trouble concentrating.

And then suddenly Myra was standing up, apologizing to Wendy that she had to run, and how wonderful dinner was. She winked at me as she left.

About a half hour later, I bowed out. Truthfully, I needed to get home and jack off, thinking about those lips and those toes. Since Wendy lives close, I had walked over. Walking back, it was a beautiful, clear night.

As I started up the stairs to my condo, I heard a voice. “Did you enjoy dessert?”

My heart about stopped, but then I saw Myra in the shadows. I recovered. “Yes, it was delicious. Not really satisfying, though.” She smiled a little at that. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

“No, not tonight. I just wanted to see your cock. It felt so big, under the table.”

It took about three passes around my brain for the words to sink in and make any sense. Like an idiot, I was staring at her, my mouth open.

“Will you take it out? Show it to me?”

I moved towards her, to kiss her, but she stopped me with her hand and turned me with a smile, so that I was against the wall, in the shadows now.

“Show me your cock, baby.” I think it was the ‘baby’ that did it. And that damn accent.

What the hell—I like showing off my cock. I looked around, nervously, and started to undo my jeans. I pushed down my boxer-briefs, and pulled it out. The night air felt cool and nice. Her eyes staring down at my cock was pretty nice, too.

“Michelle said you had a big cock. She was quite truthful. Can you make it hard for me?” I looked around again.

“Maybe. Showing me your breasts would help.” It seems only fair, right? She laughed, looked me in the eyes, and then licked her lips. She slipped the straps of her dress down off her shoulders, then lowered the dress to her stomach. Slowly, teasingly, she slipped half of her bra off. They weren’t very big, but they sure were sweet. I say they, but she was only showing me her right one. She sucked one her finger for a moment, then started rubbing her nipple in circles. That fucking did it.

I’ve been told that my cock starts out bigger than average, but that when it starts getting hard, it gets really big. I avoid seeing other guys’ cocks, but let’s just say that I don’t suffer from a lot of envy watching porn flicks. Occasionally not quite as long, but usually as thick or better. I liked to tell women I’d make them walk funny for a week, and I am not lying. And I love the first time a chick sees my cock—that little gasp. Their eyes getting bigger and bigger as my cock gets bigger and bigger.

Myra appeared to like it, as her other hand started rubbing herself on the outside of her dress. Then she asked me for a date. It was the damnedest thing.

“There’s this movie I want to see. Maybe next Saturday you can take me to it. Would you like that?” Clearly, most of the blood wasn’t in my head, cause I was confused. Seemed like we’d bypassed dating and gone right to sex. Cock-watching. Something.

“Sure,” I managed. My cock was hard now—rock hard. I adjusted my jeans and briefs, lowering them a bit, freeing my balls.

“Oh, what big balls you have." I thougth of Little Red Riding Hood then, and laughed. "I bet they have a lot of come in them. Are you going to go upstairs now and play with it?” I nodded, although really I was hoping she’d be coming upstairs, too. “Are you going to think of me. Of my toes? Of my nipples?” Her accent somehow made it both sweeter and dirtier.

I nodded again. “And your mouth.”

“I don’t think it will fit.” Her smile spun my heart around in my chest. Then she reached out, ran her fingertips up and down the shaft, lifted it with her palm, feeling the weight in it.

She lifted up and kissed me again on the cheek—again the sweetness mixed with the deep heat of sex. Fuck I wanted her. “I’ll call you. Now go upstairs and empty those big balls for me.”

Being told to jack off—that charged me up, too.

And then she was gone, pulling up her bra and dress, turning with a sweet little half wave. I stood there, balls and cock in the air, wondering what had just happened, and who the hell was Michelle?

Forty-five minutes later, she called.

“All done, baby?”

“Yep.” This was now mildly embarrassing.

“Did you come a lot? Did you make a big mess?”

“I came in a towel. A paper towel.” Several of them.

“Was it a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think of me?”

“Yes. Your toes. Your mouth. Bending you over.”

“Ummm. I can’t wait to watch you come. Do you come big? Does it spurt out?”

Again that damn accent. “Yes.”

“Do you still want to take me to the movies?”

“Yes. I’d really like that.”

“Me too. There is one condition. A thing I ask.”

“What’s that?”

She laughed a little, then. “Would you like it if I jacked you off, after the movies?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d really like that.” My cock was starting to get hard.

“Well, I will. I’ll stroke that nice cock of yours like so good for you. But only if you don’t come until our date. Would you save your come for me?”

“What?”

“I want you to wait to come until I do it. I want to make you come the next time. I want to see you come so much.”

“Huh.”

“Will you do that for me?”

“Ok.” I wasn’t so sure about this.

“So no touching with yourself. No sex with anyone. Save it all for me. Will you do that for me, baby?”

”Ok.”

“I can’t wait.”

“What are you going to do now? Are you going to play with yourself, thinking of my cock? Thinking of it inside you?”

“No, baby.” Her voice sounded like I was naive. “I’m going to go sit on my girlfriend’s face. Make her lick me until her whole face is wet.”

My cock was hard hard now.

“Remember to be good, baby. If you’re not good, no movie and no fun, understand?”

I started to say okay, but she was gone. I had wanted to ask her how she knew where I lived, or my number, for that matter, but it was too late.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.


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