Funny how one smell, a flashing memory, can trigger me to think about you.
A set of eyes, a pair of hands, someone else using your perfume in a bar makes me take a trip to the bathroom, where I can be alone for a while and slide my right hand into my pants and touch myself fast, thinking about your dick in my mouth and your left hand pushing my head deep into your crotch. I would tie a scarf around my neck and pretend is your other hand.
In the moment I can almost hear your voice and think of all the words you’d call on me all those times that i blowed you. I would also touch my nipples with my fingertips, just like you did when you felt like it, when you wanted to.
I also think of you flipping me, getting me on my hands and knees, you would kneel, lick my ass and pussy, just pretending that I was not wet enough and then shoving your dick inside me, starting slow and then going harder, faster as I would start to moan louder and louder, signaling you that I was closer to come every time you pounded me.
You would stop and lick me clean, play with my tits and tell me how much you loved to fuck me, with a smile on your mouth, eyes on fire, hands all over me. I’d say “please, make me come” and you would say “Later, i don’t want you to just yet.”
I’d often finish and come out of that shitty bathroom bar in less than a minute, with the most serious face. maybe the owner knows, maybe he can hear me, but I seriously don’t care.