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Fair Trade? Vodka for a Blow Job

"''Are you sure?'' she asked. ''I don't mind sucking you off.''"

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A cheap liquor store like a dozen others in the West Village. Except as I pushed the door open, a small hand reached out and pulled me back onto the sidewalk.

"Will you buy me a bottle of Grey Goose?" she asked. "I'll pay you." She was sixteen or seventeen with the kind of ripe, nubile beauty that drives older guys like me wild.

"Sorry," I told her and headed for the door.

"Please," she begged. "I promised my friends. I'll do anything you want."

I looked at her innocent blue eyes and full, thick lips, and all kinds of wicked ideas flooded my mind. "Anything?" I heard myself asking.

"Anything," she agreed with just a hint of hesitation.

This wasn't me, but looking at her freckled face and feminine curves, I just couldn't help myself.

"A hand job," I told her.

"Okay," she replied without reservation.

"Not enough," I said, changing my mind. My dark side had seized control. "A blow job," I now demanded. But with a tiny bit of remorse, I added, "And I'll pay for the vodka."

"Ummm, okay," she gulped.

She was waiting when I walked out carrying a heavy plastic bag. "Follow me," I said, leading her to my car and opening the passenger door.

"A blow job," she was looking up at me with a hint of apprehension. "Nothing more."

"That's the deal." She climbed in and I closed the door behind her.

I tuned the radio to the local FM pop station and headed up the West Side Drive to a parking lot near the Ball Fields that becomes an unofficial lover's lane after dark. I climbed into the backseat. She followed.

"This is yours," I handed her a full gallon of Grey Goose.

"Oh, wow! Thank you," she'd only been expecting a quart and seemed genuinely pleased. I pulled out the pint of cheap vodka I'd bought for myself, twisted off the top, and handed it to her.

She took a swig, screwed up her face in an utterly adorable way, and swallowed. We passed the bottle back and forth until it was gone. Shakira was singing "Hips Don't Lie" and the warm glow from the vodka was spreading through me.

"About the blow job," I said.

She looked at me intently, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"I was only teasing. You don't have to do that."

"Handjob?" she asked.

"Nope. Not that either."

To my surprise, she seemed a little dejected. Between the moonlight dancing across her glossy lips and the vodka taking hold, I instantly regretted my magnanimity. She was hot and willing. And crazy enough to be here with me. 

"Would it creep you out if I just look at you and do myself?" I asked.

"That's all? Just look?" She now seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Well, if you want to show me something, I'd love that.

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But you don't have to." I was at the point where if I didn't unzip my jeans, my cock would probably do it for me.

Her eyes followed my fingers as I unbuckled my belt, unsnapped, lowered the zipper and slid my jeans and briefs down past my knees. I probably looked ridiculous, but my cock was bouncing up and down with joy.

For a moment, I thought she was going to bend down and give me a blow job anyway. Instead, she lifted her skirt over her hips, exposing a pair of tight white cotton panties. I wrapped my fingers around my cock and she joined by pushing her panties aside. Even in the darkness of the backseat, I could tell she was shaved.

I leaned back on my side, she leaned back on hers, and we both began masturbating. Within a couple of minutes, she had two fingers buried in her cunt and I was jacking like a hormone-addled teenager. We watched each other's finger work. I'm sure she couldn't miss the soft chafing sound I made as I tugged my cock. There was no way I could miss the squishing noises coming from her damp pussy.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, her voice little more than a moan. "I don't mind... sucking you off."

I just shook my head and rubbed faster. Her eyes never left my cock as she stopped fingering and pulled her tank top over her head, revealing two tiny but stupendously perky little tits. She licked her fingers and smiled at me just as the musky scent of her arousal filled my nostrils.

That was all it took to bring me to the brink, and she knew it. Just as I began to roll my hips and moan softly to myself, she leaned over and took my cock head between her lips. I couldn't resist. An instant later, I was ejaculating onto her hot, wet tongue while she did her best to swallow.

It took me a couple minutes of heavy breathing to recover, but when I did, I dove between her legs and buried my finger in her vagina while desperately sucking on her outer lips. To my surprise, I felt her finger seeking out her clit. Together, we brought her to the edge. Then over.

I can't say she actually squirted, but she arched her hips, went rigid, and left me licking up the creamy girl-cum the poured over my mouth and tongue. It was smoother, and far tastier, than my cheap vodka.

We drove back downtown with her head resting on my shoulder. When I reached the end of the Parkway, I asked where she wanted to go.

"Where do you live?"

"West 4th."

"Then that's where I want to go," she said, gazing into to my eyes with a dreamy smile.

Postscript:

Just to be perfectly clear. This piece of "Flash Erotica" is a total fantasy. Although sometimes I wish it weren't.

~Jason


Published 
Written by Jason_NYC
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