A Dozen Fantasies

Too bad I didn't get a chance to play it out.

Jake moves fast, when he wants to. He moves so fast that you can't even catch the movement. Blink your eye and you'll miss it and you'll be left dealing with the repercussions.

Well these were some repercussions I could get behind.

With only a grunt of his need he pressed down and pressed his lips against mine. He kissed me hard and his tongue slipped out needy and insistent against my lips and I parted gratefully, eager to pull him inside.

I gave as good as I took, closing my lips around the hard muscle of his tongue and suckling on it as proof that I could do so much more.

Above me he moaned, his hands shifting a little closer to me and his weight shifting above me as he held himself with one hand so his other could find my body. Gripping my hip and almost dragging me up into him, crushing my body against his at a perfectly opportune moment.

Because without any more need for subtlety I'd quickly abandoned it. My hand pressed down and cupped his cock in full through his pants, squeezing and feeling the turgid thickness of it and moaning myself at the sizeable bulge I was handling. And just as I started to find a rhythm of clenching and squeezing my hand just right he pulled me up and crushed my hand against us.

I couldn't move.

I didn't want to.

With my other hand I ran it around the back of his head and held him to me. With my legs I slid them out and up and around the tightness of his waist to hold him down and my hips started to rock back and forth against him, pulsing and beating as I squeezed my hand to the rhythm of them.

I was mad with need. I was dripping with heat. And I was well aware that we were not exactly in a fortunate or private place.

We were in a booth, out of sight right now surely but we'd made quite the racket and all it would take is someone walking up to glance over the edge of it to see us. To see him holding me down and see me fucking dry humping myself against him like a bitch in heat and somehow the thought of being caught like that, of being seen like that, of being thought like that wasn't shameful at all.

It was turning me on even more.

I moaned, starting to play out the thoughts of it in my mind. The scenarios that could never truly happen where we get caught and something even naughtier occurs.

Where Jake decides he doesn't want to stop and instead takes me hard and rough and public. Where the dean or someone else in a position of authority decides to drag me away for my indecency and pulls me into their office, punishing me by showing me exactly what a real slut can take.

Or... maybe my personal favorite.

Where we strip the sign off the front of the booth. Where we scrawl a new entry on the back of it. Where we pull from the idea of a kissing booth but make it something else entirely.

A fucking booth.

A free use booth.

A booth where I sit, pert and perky and naked and desired by all.

Where I am used and I love every moment of it.

Half fueled by the joy of him and half by the thoughts of my fantasies I moan even louder against him. I press my lips even harder and I draw him even further because some part of me wants to be naughty.

Wants to get caught.

Wants to be bad.

For a limited time you can join my Patreon for only $2 and get access to over a month's worth of new pages of My Second Chance as well as SEVEN FULL STORIES with a new one every month! Join here: https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert