Payback

Jennifer’s pussy.

Jennifer’s hot, wet pussy.

The woman who was still galaxies out of my league was about to let my finger enter her.

I needed to see her face the moment it happened. I needed to see the gothic ice queen melt, to witness the exact second her composure shattered.

My fingers traced the edges of her mound.

A small whine.

She was **** now. She wanted me to take her with my hand.

Right here. In this public coffeeshop.

I looked around. Nobody was still paying any attention to us.

Jennifer bit her lip, and closed her eyes.

"No," I whispered, my voice firm. "Look at me."

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and dark with lust.

“Why did you stop reading?”, I asked, teasingly tracing closer and closer to her nether lips.

“…ngh… You don’t care about that… just… be happy… I’m… I’m allowing…”, she spoke quietly, taking in short breaths as I got closer and closer.

“I care,” I said, surprising myself.

I mean… of course I did. The text was about us fucking, from her point of view. Obviously it was fucking hot hearing her recounting how I violated her… while I was violating her.

She turned to me, her expression softer than ever before. “You… do?”

I nodded, suddenly letting my finger glide across her clit.

She damn near moaned, a sharp, ecstatic cry that she barely managed to muffle with her hand.

I did a quick, panicked scan of the room.

A few heads turned, but most just dipped back into their phones.

One waitress, though, a girl with sharp eyes and a nose ring, was looking right at us, a curious, suspicious expression on her face.

It was too late to stop now. I had to trust in the event's protective power.

“Continue,” I commanded.

She turned back to her laptop, her body trembling as she tried to focus on the screen. She took a shaky breath, her voice fragile.

"...He... he brought his glistening fingers to my face," she read, her words barely a whisper over the constant chatter of the NPCs inside the coffeeshop.

As she spoke the words, my own finger, which had been tracing her soft mound, finally pushed into the cavern below.

I felt her sharp intake of breath on my finger.

Her depths were so… hot. So moist.

I slid a single finger through her slick folds, feeling Jennifer’s heat, the **** clench of her muscles around my digit.

"...he smeared my own shame across my lips," she choked out, her voice cracking as I slowly, deliberately, sawed in and out and circled her clit with my thumb. "A foul sacrament... forcing me to taste my own weakness..."

As she spoke, her words gave me an idea.

I slowly withdrew my fingers, now glistening with her arousal. Before she could react, I brought my hand to her lips.

Her eyes widened in confusion, but my intent was soon obvious. Obediently, her mouth parted, and I slid my slick fingers between her lips. I felt the soft, wet warmth of her tongue as she hesitantly, then obediently, tasted herself.

“That’s right. Taste it. Taste your… shame.”

She blushed, her fury almost pushing through her arousal, but losing the battle.

I pulled my hand away, now clean, and swiftly returned it to the heat between her legs.

Soon her hips began to rock against my hand, a subtle, involuntary motion that she couldn't stop.

She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.

I watched her eyes, captivated by the raw, unfiltered display. She was so… ****. So ****.

How many times had I made her masturbate over me? Had to be over ten, right? Maybe she even did it off the schedule now? Either way… She was finally getting the real deal. Something only Ron Stuckey could provide.

She had stopped reading again to focus on the pleasure.

I added a second finger, pressing deeper inside her, curling slightly to find that spot that made her whole body tense.

Her back arched, a silent, convulsive shudder wracking her frame.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to stifle the moan that was building in her throat, a ****, primal sound of surrender.

“Continue, puppet,” I whispered into her ear.

Such a fitting word for her. Especially with my fingers inside her, making her say what I wanted her to say.

"The... the anointing was complete," she finally continued, the words coming out in ragged, breathless bursts between the waves of pleasure I was forcing upon her. "My face was a canvas of my own... my own depravity... But he was not finished. No... the high priest... he demanded a final... offering..."

She couldn't finish. Her voice dissolved into a choked whimper. Her entire body was taut, a bowstring pulled to its breaking point.

I could feel the orgasm building deep inside her, a gathering storm of sensation.

Her inner walls began to clench around my fingers, an uncontrollable, rhythmic pulsing that heralded the inevitable crash.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice a low growl.

Her eyes flew open, wide and glassy with tears and unshed desire.

They were locked on mine, and in that moment, I saw everything. The fear, the shame, the anger, and beneath it all, a ****, aching need.

She was completely undone, her carefully constructed gothic armor shattered into a million pieces.

I knew the phrase a person more confident than me would say here, but-

No. I can do it. It’s definitely the right moment.

"Come for me," I whispered.

And she did.

A wave of pleasure, violent and overwhelming, crashed over her.

Her body convulsed, a powerful, shuddering spasm that started in her core and radiated outwards.

A strangled, helpless cry escaped her lips, which she immediately muffled with her hand.

Jennifer’s body went limp, slumping forward over the table. She was gasping for breath, her body trembling with the aftershocks.

I slowly withdrew my moist fingers.

Thank God she wasn’t a squirter. That stain might be hard to explain away.

The waitress was looking our way, a curious, knowing look on her face, but she didn't approach. But she was clearly considering it. We were pushing things big time.

Jennifer slowly lifted her head, still in a daze.

“I… I can’t believe I let you… I let anybody… use me like that.”

“Did you hate it then?”

She smiled. A pure, twisted smile of the Jennifer-variety.

“Being finger-**** in front of dozens of people? No that’s just a regular Tuesday for me. Just not used to it happening on Wednesday.”

Her strange, dark humor drew an awkward smile out of me. In this bizarre, post-orgasmic moment, I felt more comfortable with her than I ever had.

And then it hit me.

It… It was over, wasn’t it?

I had come here with intentions to fuck her, to give her the pleasure I had been denying her for weeks now…

And it had just happened.

Sure, my dick hadn’t entered her, but that was never a prerequisite.

The point was to give her an orgasm.

And now… that was done.

I had now officially ran out of excuses to play around with her.

Fuck. Would have been nice to-

No. Ron. Make this quick and clean.

My face got all serious. As serious as my face could get.

“Jennifer. It’s been nice. I think. But, now, maybe, it’s time to-“

"Shut up," she said, her voice suddenly sharp, clear. "I don't care what bullshit excuse you're using to try and disappear again. Nobody does something like this to me and gets to just walk away."

Shit.

A sly, predatory smile appeared on her face. "Not without some payback."

And, without another word… she slid beneath the table.

Wait… Was she planning to-

My heart hammered against my ribs. I could feel the vibrations of her movements through the floor.

Then, a pair of hands, cool and deliberate, landed on my knees.

Her fingers found my belt. The metallic clink was deafeningly loud in the sudden silence of my own mind.

She worked it open with an unnerving efficiency, then popped the button on my jeans. The sound of my zipper being slowly, deliberately lowered was the most erotic and terrifying thing I had ever heard.

She freed me. My cock, already hard from the power of the moment, sprang into the cool, dark air beneath the table.

Shit. Shit fuck. I was practically nude in public now.

Maybe- Maybe she was planning just to humiliate me?

I wanted to run. Bolt it while I could.

All my anxieties were starting to take over, and I shook like a leaf.

And then I felt it.

The soft, wet heat of a hot mouth as she took me in.

All the nervousness, all the fear, vanished, sucked away into the incredible, warm, comfortable vacuum of her mouth.

A choked gasp escaped my lips. I quickly disguised it as a cough, my eyes darting around the room. The waitress was still looking, but now she was busy wiping down a counter. The NPCs still sticking to their devices.

Jennifer's mouth wasn't gentle or tentative.

It was hungry, possessive.

Her tongue swirled around the head of my cock like she liked the taste.

She took me deeper, her lips stretching around me, creating a tight, perfect seal.

I wanted to enjoy this, to preserve a perfect snapshot of this memory in my brain forever, but I was way too wound up and ready to cum to focus on anything.

I could feel the pressure building, a tight, hot coil in my stomach. I was going to cum. And I was going to cum fast.

I tried to hold back, but it was useless.

She was too good. Her mouth was too skilled, too determined.

And… It was Jennifer’s mouth.

That bitchy goth clerk that shot my flirting down like a dog and laughed when I spilled my eggs.

Now sucking my cock… Like a good little whore.

Her head began to bob, a slow, steady rhythm that was driving me insane. I could feel the soft, wet sounds of her sucking, a lewd counterpoint to the gentle indie music playing over the cafe's speakers.

I couldn't hold it anymore. The coil snapped.

A wave of pleasure, hot and overwhelming, washed over me.

I came hard, my body tensing, a strangled groan escaping my lips as I shot my load down her throat.