Allie goes it alone... to start at least

It was a late summer evening and the night air felt warm on my exposed breast. The pickup artist’s groping hand felt warm caressing it, confidently, almost lazily, as if this was perfectly natural for him. His lips were warm against mine as he kissed me passionately. His was not a romantic passion, but the passion of a man enjoying a delicious meal. I panted as he pulled down the other strap of my dress exposing my other breast. More heat. I raised my eyes to the rooftops lining the alley behind the bar as I tried to fill my lungs with the hot, hot air.

His hand slowly moved to my crotch, caressing me through my dress and panties. Not just heat, but fire erupted from my womanhood and danced throughout my body. As a small gasp escaped me I was **** to grudgingly admit that he knew what he was doing. I wondered how many other women he’d had in the same position. He looked in me in the eyes and grinned. Cocky. How I hated that grin and the justified arrogance it symbolized. I kissed him hard.

“Liked that, huh?” he whispered into my ear, his hand moving to my hip, then on to my ass which he squeezed possessively. “Make sure to mention that in your article about me.” “You are such an asshole” I retorted through clenched teeth. I shifted and wrapped my right leg around him, desperately trying to rub myself against his bulge…

*Record Scratch* You are probably wondering how I got in this position…