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The Water Poet

Tags: bdsm, sexy, pub
A continuation of The Desk , a lusty collaboration between SS and ME.
I was waiting for him at our favorite local pub, The Water Poet, after work. I was still dressed in my work attire, black pencil skirt, platform Mary Jane heels, and frilly pink blouse with a pattern of tiny black hearts.

After the surprise encounter in the morning, my mind was numb for the rest of the day. I couldn't believe how ballsy he had been to sneak into my office and basically molest me under my desk. It was totally fucking hot!

He was a total pervert, and I loved it. He came across as a typical English gentleman; polite, courteous with a wicked sense of humor. But beneath the polished exterior lay a naughty and cheeky bastard. I had never met somebody like him before.

Having transferred to London for my job, several months ago, I was quite enamored with the hustle and bustle of such a beautiful and vibrant city. Coming from San Francisco, I was already accustomed to the grey skies, but not to the thriving culture, lights, collective roar of mopeds, cars, cab, taxis and buses. Also the amazingly efficient tube and of course the world famous broadway district.

Learning the British vernacular was defiantly a challenge also. We spoke the same language, but with so much unidentified slang and different accents, I had to ask people often to repeat what they were saying. And they the same for me.

But not with him. He was well travelled, traveling to the US many times for his work, so he had a adapted ear and did not require a American like myself to repeat myself too often. And thank God for that, because it was tiring and a constant reminder how far from home I was.

It had been in this very pub were we first met. I had heard about the British tradition for having a couple pints with mates after work. I ventured in one night after work alone, feeling and looking painfully out of place. I sat at a small empty table near the bar and when the bar maid came over to ask what I wanted, I pointed over to a rowdy crowd of young men at the end of the L-shaped bar. They seemed to be having a blast, so I asked for, "Whatever they were having."

The waitress raised her eyebrows and hesitated, looking at my small frame. "You want a pint of Guinness, love?"

"Um, the smallest size, actually," I said meekly.

I so wanted to fit in. I hated being a outsider.

She left with my order.

One fellow sitting with the rowdy bunch, leaned backwards drinking his beer, and gawked at me.

'Great,' I thought.

"Fish out of water much?" I said out loud to myself.

I ignored him and shifted my gaze to the TV. Of course they were watching football and rugby. 'This was quite the manly pub I chose', I thought dryly. Feeling more and more self-conscious, not my usual state, I slumped in my seat and pulled my phone out to check out was going on in the states.

The waitress slapped a pint of Guinness on my table, startling me. 'What the fuck?' I thought.

"Is this the only size you have?"I asked embarrassed.

She laughed at me.

"No dear, but that bugger over there insisted he knew you and said you'd want the largest."

I looked over at him with disapproval. It was the same guy watching me.

'And who the fuck was this weirdo?' I asked myself. 'Whatever.' I thought.

The dark frothy strange brew stared me down, scoffing at the chances I would be able to drink more than a 1/4 of it. The eyes of the spectator, in the corner, was on me again and I could feel him having a laugh on me.

'How bad could this beer possibly taste?' I wondered. 'Maybe a darker beer meant it would taste better than the shit I had drank in the states, like Corona Mexican Cerveza?' I pondered.

I lifted the glass and was amazed at how heavy it felt. If I wanted to show this 'wanker' (is that the same as asshole?) not to fuck with a American, I was determined to down the whole drink, pay for it myself, and walk out with my head held high.

He had raised his own full pint of Guinness from across the room and I did the same back. We both smiled to confirm the challenge. Both our lips grabbed the brim of the glass, eyes locked on each other, and tipped the liquid into our mouths.

As the cool liquid rushed in and came into contact with my tongue, the overwhelming taste of barley flooded my senses. I tried to keep a poker face, but I could not hide the pain and disgust in my eyes. I knew that if I allowed too much of this liquid to enter my stomach, my stomach would promptly reject and shoot it's entire contents back out via my mouth.

If that wouldn't top the evening off, I didn't know what would have.

I pulled my lips away from the glass, and tried in vain, to mask the look of revulsion on my face.

He also pulled his glass away from his mouth, and busted up laughing.

I had only managed to drink the equivalent of a few sips. I felt so angry, I decided I would just leave. I left enough money on the table to cover the cost, and stood up. I turned 180 degrees so, I wouldn't have to see the jerk laughing at me as I left humiliated.

I grabbed my coat and purse that was hanging off the back of my chair, and scurried out the side exit. A few steps into the street, I hailed a cab to take me back to my flat.

Quickly a cab found its way to the curb next to me. I jumped in and gave the driver my address. I closed the door and sat back in the seat and let out a long sigh.

Before the cab had left the curb, the back door opens and the jerk from the pub jumps in. The driver looks puzzled and the jerk said, "I'm going where she is going."

"Aren't you a little presumptions?" I asked him, taken aback.

He laughed. "You ran out so fast, I didn't get to apologize!"

Well, the rest was history.

***

Back to the present, I sat in a cushy leather chair with my back to the bar. Opposite was another leather chair that I had thrown my purse on to keep it reserved for him. Both chairs were in a darkened alcove towards the back corner of the pub. A place for those looking for privacy and more intimate drinking environment. I sipped on some white wine and read one of my romance novels from my ipad.

In he walked, and he saw my blond hair easily in the back. He sat down in the reserved seat, after gently removing my purse and dropping it on the small oak table between our chairs.

He gave me a innocent look like nothing happened today. I shook my head in disapproval. A look he knew so well and relished in. He loved to be the naughty boy, and me the instrument for his mischief.

He was so damn cute, and I had to resist the urge to leap over the table and straddle him.

I stood up and walked slowly over to his side, and bent down, almost kneeling and hovered down at his level to allow him a position slightly above mine. I waited for him to kiss me. Which he did softly.

If we were at home, I would be sitting on the floor next to his chair in a lady like position, wearing a sheer baby doll type dress. I would massage his calves and feet and he could stroke my hair or pull my head into his lap while we watched TV.

"Sir, what would you like to drink?" I asked.

"Whiskey tonic," he answered.

I walked to the bar and ordered his drink. I also asked for a small empty glass.

I felt the stares of eyes on my form, but did not look up at any of the men. I only had eyes for my Master.

I walked back and placed the drink in his hand. I stood up to go back to my chair, but not before I stopped to whisper something in his ear.

"Your antics earlier could have got me fired!" I scolded him softly.

As I turned away, he grabbed my wrist and pull me back so you could whisper back: "As my pet, I own that cunt of yours and I can, and will, access it wherever, whenever, it pleases me. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir!"I apologetically answered.

Back at my chair, I sat down and crossed my legs.

I placed the empty glass on the table between us.

He then asks me, "Where are my soiled panties, from earlier?"

"I am wearing them Sir," I answered.

His handsome face looked puzzled.

"Wouldn't the crotch be stiff from both our cum drying on it?" he asked.

"Sir, I sucked all the cum from the crotch and washed the panties with my tongue," I said proudly.

He looked pleased.

"Let me take a look," he asked, eyes smoldering.

I seductively uncrossed my legs and simultaneously pulled my skirt up a little. I slowly opened my legs to show him my crotch. I traced my fingers along my inner thighs watching him watch me.

I searched his face for cues on what was pleasing, so I could continue to entice him. He sat back and sipped his drink, enjoying the show.

"Wider," he ordered.

I obliged and pulled my skirt higher to allow my legs to open wider. I continued to touch my inner thighs moving closer to my hot core.

Now he leaned forward, arms on his thighs, drink in hand, and staring intently down the dark tunnel to my pussy.

"Show me," he ordered, as he took another sip.

His own private peep show.

I looked around and saw nobody watching us, so I draped my left leg over the arm of the chair. My skirt was now hiked up so high, it barely covered my ass. I reached in with my right hand and shifted the crotch of my panties to the side to show you how engorged I was. I was dripping clear liquid onto the leather seat as I displayed my world to him.

He licked his lips and continued to sip his drink.

"Off!" he barked at me.

I slipped my panties off stealthily and handed them over to him.

He snatched it and pushed them down the front of his pants as he no doubt was using it to collect his pre-cum. He rubbed his cock for a few minutes with my panties, then pulled them out, pressed his nose against the silky fabric and took a long deep drag like it was oxygen.

He let out a loud grunt as he completed inhaling our mixture of arousal. Our arousal for each other.

He hands them back to me. I took the panties and lay the crotch over the top of the empty glass, and proceeded to pour my wine over it so I can flavor my drink with our combusted juices.

He looked approvingly at me and whispered, "Good girl."

After sieving our pleasure into the wine, he curled his index finger at me, beckoning me. I stood up and straightened my skirt, paying no mind to anybody who may have just caught a glimpse of my bare ass.

I walked over to him, wine in hand, and sat in his lap. I took his glass from his right hand and set it down on the table.

My right arm went around the back of his neck while my legs were bent and lay femininely in his lap. I curled up like a cat.

He looked up to me and I knew what he wanted. I sipped the wine and and brought my mouth to his and fead him our drink.

I watched him savor it and I was instantaneously leaking so much juice, I knew he had to be feeling it through our clothes.

He took the wine from my hand and put it into his own and took a sip. Then he leaned forward while holding me close so I wouldn't fall and placed it on the table.

His left hand was around my waist, while his right hand migrated under my skirt.

Still swirling the wine in his mouth, I leaned in for a sip from his sexy gauntlet. He released a little into my needy mouth, while I felt his hand almost reach my cunt.

He then plunged his fingers in my cunt and, at the same time, let all the wine flow from his mouth into mine.

I sucked back the wine quickly, swallowed it whole, then let out a gasp. "Oh my God baby," I whispered.

Feeling how juicy my cunt was, he stood up, still holding me in his arms and took me to the back private pool parlor to presumably have his way with me.

To be continued...

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Copyright © © 2013 Silver Sakura

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