I Want You To Want Me

So I had a recent date, a wonderful gentleman who liked Pinot Noir, organic foods, seventies rock music (from his college days, he said with a sigh) and whose response to my desire for him to experience anal sex with me was to tell me that he loved what a lusty slut I can be.  Then, sorting through the seventies tunes on his Spotify playlist, he put on a song by Cheap Trick, whose lyrics begin like this:

I want you to want me.

I need you to need me.

I'd love you to love me.

I'm beggin' you to beg me.

And there it was.  A song lyric that really struck me, captured my lusty desire.  Okay, the love part, maybe not so much, or at least not most of the time, I mean, I'm not doing Dolly dates to mess with anyone's civilian lives, but the rest of it, ...yeah.

Any woman can want sex.  But I really get a thrill out of being such an object of your desire that you want me, need me, beg me.  I love men so out of their mind with desire that they put everything they have on the line to pursue that longing.  Oh, not to worry, I don't let my men friends get themselves in trouble, part of the level of service I provide as your secret girlfriend is to do the smart thinking for you when you are entirely being guided by that nice hard dick I've inspired.

I want you to want me.  Did I ever say that?  Yes, I had.

Let's call him Tim.  No particular reason, other than I have to change his name to something else.  But Tim, as I'm calling him, was married, mid-40's so at the time he had a couple years on me as this was a couple years back, but I considered us contemporaries.  It was a trade show, in another state, and I was staying in the resort where the conference was being held, and it was such a lovely place with such an amazing setting and spa that I added two extra days after the conference to my trip.  Tim was arguably a competitor of mine, business-wise.  We were constantly bumping elbows, making the same acquaintances and asking the same people to lunch, dinner, drinks and for appointments after the conference.

And I noticed Tim's eyes on me.  Kind, but tired eyes.  We'd both ended up in the lobby bar after our dinners the night before the last day of the conference.

 "Can I join you?" he asked.

"Sure," as I gestured toward the seat next to me, "but don't go thinking I'm going to spill my business secrets to you about how I get the business."  I laughed.  Was I being bitchy?  I thought of it as playful and teasing.

"No secret, Dolly, it’s pretty obvious.  You're fucking gorgeous, sexy as hell, pardon my French," he began, and as much as my body starts to respond whenever a well-dressed man compliments me, I interrupted him.

"No worries about your language, you can say 'Gorgeous' to me."

He laughed, then continued, "Thanks Dolly, yes, you're fucking gorgeous, and then you've got brains, are a great communicator, basically we all wish we were you.

"You wish you were a woman, Tim? Do we need to talk in private.”?  I winked.  He smiled.

"You're even witty.  Fucking gorgeous, smart, sexy, sharp, witty...."

"Go on, don't let me stop you, tell me how you really feel about me.  But to be clear, so you DON'T want to be a woman?"

Another smile and half chuckle from Tim.  "No, I just want to be WITH a woman.  You, I want to be with you, if ever I could possibly get that lucky.  Oh, listen to me, married man on his third drink and I'm hitting on you.  But yes, I want you."

I paused, and considered him.  He was half tented in his trousers.  His hands were well groomed, he was well dressed in that business casual manner that men ironically spend more time selecting and picking out with their tailors than their suits.  And I hadn't had any sex since two days earlier.  Though that two-days' earlier Dolly date that I managed to schedule during a slow morning, early before the conference got started is a story I'm keeping private for right now.  Oh who am I kidding, I need to spill the beans just a little, sometimes I still amaze myself how hot and excited I still get about sex.  I'd seen him before, he's part of what I love about the city where the conference was held, and he has a fabulous urban loft in a restored factory.  Lots of exposed brick, industrial fixtures and ducts, and I agreed to an early morning tryst and he has these huge windows and we started before sunrise and then the sun rose and his cock rose and it felt like porn shoot posing on furniture and the island in his kitchen and body fluid protein for breakfast is always a great way to start the day!

But here I was with Tim, in a bar, Tim clearly hot for me and like I said, it had been almost two days.

I sipped my wine. I tilted my head.  He was silent, realizing he's propositioned me.  I licked my lips, and his cock twitched in his pants.

"You want me?" I repeated back to him.

"I want you, yes.  What do you want?"  he shifted closer to me.

"I want you to want me."

I drained my wine, which was a third of a glass, more than I typically drink in a single sip as that's just not refined, and when I'm not being a hell of a slut in private, I pride myself on being a lady in public.  "Follow me, Tim.  Like I said, I want you to want me."

We didn't start making out in the bar, or in the lobby, or in the elevator.  He simply walked a step behind me.  I didn't even look behind me when I stepped into my room, I already saw his hand reach forward to push the door to keep it open behind me, then he followed me in.

I started undoing my skirt, my blouse, though I'd decided to keep my four-inch fuck-me heels on.  "Throw the do not disturb on the outside and take care of the bolt, Tim.  Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight or do I get you all night?"

Yeah, there was something about his candor, and the lack of any sex in about forty hours that made me want to be the most memorable night of Tim's life.  My sex scent was already developing when my skirt hit the floor.  My legs were bare, and my thong remained on as I finished removing my blouse, and then in just the black bra and thong I placed my clothes over the back of a chair.  I hadn't even turned around.  I heard his belt buckle after he'd taken care of the door as I instructed.

"Do you still want me, Tim?"

I felt his hand on my arm, his chest pressed against my back, in my heels I was close to his height. His hand was warm, and then a moment later I knew his other hand was warm when it touched my hip and his forefinger and thumb started playing with my thong.

"I want you, Dolly, yes."

"Good.  I want you to want me."  I said it again, by that point realizing it was a song lyric.  Unlike my recent date, Tim said nothing about the song lyric nature of my statement of lust.

His lips were on my neck, and I moaned.  I reached back, and son-of-a-bitch he was not even still wearing his boxers.  Fastest damn male strip I could recall.  Maybe more time had passed than I realized, was I more buzzed than I thought?

And then his cock poked my tushy. It slid along my smooth, firm glute, already moistened by precum.  His left hand moved from my arm to my bra and he did a one-handed un-snapping, very nice, I thought.  His right hand moved across my thigh to between my legs, which I parted for him.

Since I get worked up when I typed these stories of amazing sex I've been blessed to experience, pardon me if I skip a moment or two so that I can tell you Tim was great with his fingers.  So, I was still in my thong, though it was pushed aside and his cock felt amazing between my butt cheeks as his left thumb and forefinger played with my nipple, hard, forceful and his mouth was all about teasing and tantalizing my neck, my ears, my jaw line, and his right hand, OOOFF!  Damn, that man could play pussy like a rhythm guitar, or maybe a classical musical instrument is a better analogy, oh who cared, he touched, plunged, entered, flitted, caressed, damn, did anything he fucking wanted and I came on his hand, three fingers up inside my hot wet business and he had to hold me up as my legs trembled and I went weak.

I spun and thrust my tongue into his mouth.  Oh God, a hunger for sex kiss like that, those are when you know you've absolutely clicked.  And it sometimes happens just in the moment, sometimes a guy who might not be my idealized type or be hot or whatever, maybe its random, what did my body need at that moment and did he get lucky enough to want to touch me there.

Tim sure as the moon is bright on a full moon over Miami improved his odds by having great skills with his hands.

My hands explored, going from his pecs to his ass to around his neck to....yes, his hard, upward pointing and self-lubricating dick.  No size king, just six solid perfect inches of fuck stuff for me to enjoy.

I broke the kiss.  "Do you want me?"

His eyes on mine.  "I want you.  I fuckin' want you.  I need you."

"Beg me, Tim, beg me for what you want. You already know how this ends, but I want to hear you say it."  I was stroking and teasing his cock with my left hand, and added my right hand to cup his balls and extend a finger to the pressure point between his balls and his ass, an external stimulation of the prostate zone so to speak.

"Dolly, let me fuck you, you want me to fuck you, you need me to fuck, and I need to fuck you, want to fuck you, want to fuck you all night...."

"Keep going, let me hear it, make me do what I want to do, just.... say it again, and then again, keep going," I hissed as I knelt before him, and used on my lips on the straining head of his cock.  Then my tongue traced the path along the underside of his man tool.  "Mmmmmm," I moaned, "keep saying it.... beg me...."  And then I couldn't speak.  Because Tim's cock was deeper in my mouth, and my head was bobbing, and his fingers were in my long blonde hair, and my fingers strayed down between my legs and started working myself and suddenly, Tim and I were tied, one to one, if keeping score of manual stimulation caused orgasms for Dolly that evening.

"I want you so bad Dolly," he told me, "I love how your mouth feels on my cock, suck my cock Dolly, suck me off, swallow my cum, fuck my cock with your sexy mouth."

I gave him sixty seconds more, and from his breathing and the toe curling I saw, backed off to keep him from popping, I wiped my precum smeared face with my fingers, licking them, as I nodded toward the bed.

"There are condoms in the night stand, Tim, put one on so I can ride you."  It wasn't a request, it was an instruction.

Good boy, that Tim, he did as he was told while I slid my pussy smeared thong off and threw it in his face.  He held it, inhaled deeply, and I crawled over him, a sexual predator for willing prey, still in heels, and his hands went to my legs as I positioned myself into a straddle after a few more licks of his balls and some mouth action on the condom.  Latex is only a sexy flavor because it means I'm about to be fucked.

His masculine scent filled my senses as I sank onto him, my labia gripping his tool, and I kissed him, less aggressively, more submissive style, as I can get some moments of passive pleasure and peace when I've accomplished body's goal of being filled with a cock.  I broke the kiss and whispered, "I want you to want me.  To need me, to beg me. Fuck me. Will you fuck me good time, like you want?  Do you need this pussy?  Will you beg me not to climb off you and stop fucking you?"

Oh God, I was riding him good and he was pumping as well as a man in a seated position can pump, considering the hybrid position we were in.  He wasn't lying down as I rode him, though he was leaning back.  Then his lips were on my neck again, mmmmm, Damn that felt good, and he pulled me tight, my nipples on his chest and he created some friction by rubbing there, chest to chest, and then he dragged a finger around where his cock was easing in and out of my body, and then that lubed finger toyed with my back hole and then he slipped it in as his tongue occupied my mouth.

He was in all three entries my body had to offer. I moaned, he grunted. I broke the kiss long enough to say, in a sexy bitchy way, "I'm going to stop fucking you unless you beg me, make me feel how much you want to finish.'

 And then he lunged forward, and I was on my back, and Tim was slamming away, pounding my pussy as he sucked my bottom lip and mumbled into my mouth, "you sexy fucking slut, Dolly, I've wanted to fuck you all week, should have fucked you the first night, every night, no one fucks like you, my God, your fucking body, fucking built for sex, you were made to be fucked you feel so fucking good, don't stop Dolly, let me fuck you all night, holy fucking God you make my cock feel so good...."

If he said more, I missed it, as the change in position caused his cock to hit me just right and I was so worked up and my second orgasm with Tim shook its way through my body and all I could hear for a moment was my own gasping and cries of "yes", "fuck", "yeah" and some primal noises that the female of the species emits when the male has mated her.

And the next sound was a groan, then a grunt, a half-whine, some growling, and the inner pulse was happening, the reason why condoms are so useful, they allow a man and woman to complete the sex act when nature intended, a cock deep inside a warm, wet pussy.  I hadn't noticed in the rush of lust that Tim had taken my hands and spread them wide on the bed, our fingers inter-clasped tightly, and my legs tightening my body's hold on Tim, keeping his now-tense body, still and hard, inside me as he rode out his own orgasm.  His flesh sweaty, the smell of sex filling my nostrils, his desperate attempts to catch his breath, to stay hard in me while nature was causing his cock to retreat and soften...

God that was intense.

So, having told you that story, I hope you can understand why I love that old song my wonderful Dolly date friend played.  Can't get it out of my head, it just seems to sum up my lust.  I lust for you, and nothing turns me on so much as being the woman you want.  The woman you want to please you.  To know I've got you so ready that you're ready to beg.  And you know I'll deliver for you.  So, do you want me?  Need me?  Will you beg me?



Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure!

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