running when he gets to me, but walking fast nonetheless, making it absolutely clear the last thing I want is to hang around.
That was totally insane, and I’m not sure what to think. My hands are trembling and my brain is moving faster than my feet but still unable to process it.
“ Are you ok?” he asks.
“ That wasn’t necessary”, I say. “And nor is this. I’m going home.”
“ Just hold on one sec”, he says.
I don’t. I’m scared, perhaps even more now than I was before this mysterious man arrived. I don’t want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t, but, fuck, that was a terrifying display of raw power.
“ You shouldn’t be out walking alone”, he calls after me, finally letting me leave.
I don’t look back to him, I don’t hold on, and I try not to think again about what’s just happened.
When I finally get back home, alone and safe, I realize just how wet my pussy is. It’s insane and I’m totally confused, but when my breathing and heart rate finally get back to normal, I can’t help but touch myself thinking about him.
I come in record time, my orgasm so powerful my knees go weak.
Two.
Jasmine
It’s a month before I see him again, but he’s never far from my thoughts during that time. I imagine him a hundred different ways, and each time I see that smoldering look in his eyes just before I come, and can’t help but get turned on by the memory of that determination he showed to protect me at all cost, the way he systematically took apart three men with such little effort his pulse rate hardly increased.
It turns me on way more than I’m comfortable admitting, so much, I’m embarrassed to talk about it.
I know nothing about him and he’s with me more than anyone else I know. When I finally build up the courage to walk home again at night, I hope that every night I do so, he’s there watching me, ready for the right moment to approach. If he is, he never does so.
I begin to regret not allowing him to accompany me home, even if the situation didn’t allow for it, and even if repeated a thousand times, I know I’d do the same.
I couldn’t and it wasn’t right, and because of that I know I’ve risked never seeing him again.
So much time passes that I wonder if I’ve changed his appearance in my mind, that if I see him again I’ll even recognize him, or whether the thing itself happened at all, or was maybe an entire creation of my imagination - the kind of thing a tired brain makes up to entertain itself during a journey back home, until one night, when I’ve had another shitty evening at the restaurant, and I’m ready to forget all about him and try and move on, when I least expect it, I see him again.
It’s such a shock I nearly drop a tray of empty glasses. I’m so surprised I don’t know what to say. The look on his face tells me he’s here because he knows that I work here, and even though I’ve imagined this situation a number of times, I still find myself stuck for what to say.
Eventually, because I know I can’t do anything else even if I wanted to, even though I have no idea what to say, I go over.
Same smoldering eyes, even more intense. Same perfect physical form, even more real. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. Even with the remnants of a healing black eye.
I didn’t think I’d ever see him again after that night and now here his is again, sat in my restaurant. This man has made me come more times than my left hand and he doesn’t even know it yet.
How the fuck am I supposed to begin?
Liam
I couldn’t resist coming back. I already knew where she worked because of the uniform she was wearing, it’s just taken me this long to pluck up the courage to come and find her. Courage in front of danger has never scared me, but asking out a girl I like, especially in the situation we met is fucking terrifying.
I didn’t want her to feel like I was overstepping the mark, so I thought I’d wait until the
That was totally insane, and I’m not sure what to think. My hands are trembling and my brain is moving faster than my feet but still unable to process it.
“ Are you ok?” he asks.
“ That wasn’t necessary”, I say. “And nor is this. I’m going home.”
“ Just hold on one sec”, he says.
I don’t. I’m scared, perhaps even more now than I was before this mysterious man arrived. I don’t want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t, but, fuck, that was a terrifying display of raw power.
“ You shouldn’t be out walking alone”, he calls after me, finally letting me leave.
I don’t look back to him, I don’t hold on, and I try not to think again about what’s just happened.
When I finally get back home, alone and safe, I realize just how wet my pussy is. It’s insane and I’m totally confused, but when my breathing and heart rate finally get back to normal, I can’t help but touch myself thinking about him.
I come in record time, my orgasm so powerful my knees go weak.
Two.
Jasmine
It’s a month before I see him again, but he’s never far from my thoughts during that time. I imagine him a hundred different ways, and each time I see that smoldering look in his eyes just before I come, and can’t help but get turned on by the memory of that determination he showed to protect me at all cost, the way he systematically took apart three men with such little effort his pulse rate hardly increased.
It turns me on way more than I’m comfortable admitting, so much, I’m embarrassed to talk about it.
I know nothing about him and he’s with me more than anyone else I know. When I finally build up the courage to walk home again at night, I hope that every night I do so, he’s there watching me, ready for the right moment to approach. If he is, he never does so.
I begin to regret not allowing him to accompany me home, even if the situation didn’t allow for it, and even if repeated a thousand times, I know I’d do the same.
I couldn’t and it wasn’t right, and because of that I know I’ve risked never seeing him again.
So much time passes that I wonder if I’ve changed his appearance in my mind, that if I see him again I’ll even recognize him, or whether the thing itself happened at all, or was maybe an entire creation of my imagination - the kind of thing a tired brain makes up to entertain itself during a journey back home, until one night, when I’ve had another shitty evening at the restaurant, and I’m ready to forget all about him and try and move on, when I least expect it, I see him again.
It’s such a shock I nearly drop a tray of empty glasses. I’m so surprised I don’t know what to say. The look on his face tells me he’s here because he knows that I work here, and even though I’ve imagined this situation a number of times, I still find myself stuck for what to say.
Eventually, because I know I can’t do anything else even if I wanted to, even though I have no idea what to say, I go over.
Same smoldering eyes, even more intense. Same perfect physical form, even more real. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. Even with the remnants of a healing black eye.
I didn’t think I’d ever see him again after that night and now here his is again, sat in my restaurant. This man has made me come more times than my left hand and he doesn’t even know it yet.
How the fuck am I supposed to begin?
Liam
I couldn’t resist coming back. I already knew where she worked because of the uniform she was wearing, it’s just taken me this long to pluck up the courage to come and find her. Courage in front of danger has never scared me, but asking out a girl I like, especially in the situation we met is fucking terrifying.
I didn’t want her to feel like I was overstepping the mark, so I thought I’d wait until the
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