Humorous erotica…
“At the Gypsy Rose” a sex story by Sylvie Royce-Harmon
So I get into an argument with this guy at the bar—Jack I think. Anyway, he says that girls can control when their nipples get hard. And I’m like no we can’t. Now this is after three or four tequila shots and no dinner, me having traded eating for a quick change at Charlene’s after work and heading straight to the Gypsy Rose like we always do on Friday nights.
So we’re talking with this guy and his friend, and Charlene and the other guy go to dance, and I’m getting kind of flirty with the tequila shots and all, and Jack comes up with this stupid thing about nipples getting hard. And I’m like no we can’t, and he’s like well they do when you get cold. And I’m like well that’s not controlling them, it’s not like when guys count back from six billion and eleven or think of their Great Aunt Maude or whatever to keep from getting a hard on. And he’s staring at my boobs. Now I’m wearing this white ribbed tank top of Charlene’s with my pink mini skirt. Well actually it’s fuchsia but not cheap-looking or anything, and he goes see, they’re getting hard. And I’m like well if you stare at them like that they’re gonna react, but I can’t keep them from reacting like you guys can—at least after you’re twenty or so and know when it’s happening.
And he’s still staring, and I glance down, and damn, they are hard. And it really shows ‘cause I’m not wearing a bra since it’s the middle of July for god’s sake, and like I said it’s Friday night and I’m celebrating its being Friday, and besides, I look good without a bra, and I’m not into those stupid formed cup things that don’t show anything for god’s sake. I mean a little nipple action is kind of sexy I think. A lot sexier than a million straps showing.
Classic Portrait Study 1 by Lee Jones available at ObsessionArt.com
So the staring is getting me wet down there, and I cross my legs and kind of squirm on the bar stool ‘cause my pussy’s getting those tingles that happen right before it pooches out which means I’m wanting it bad. And after all it’s Friday and I’m trying to remember if I hooked up last Friday, and no, that was when Charlene and I decided we’d had it with men and gave each other a pedi at my place. So I’m feeling it, if you know what I mean, and kind of squirming, and I decide I want to get him not looking at my boobs, so I go why don’t we dance, and he goes no, he likes the view right here. And I go quick what color are my eyes, and he says brown without looking up. So I know he knows, and he doesn’t try to grope me or anything. He just keeps staring.
So I’m really getting achy and itchy now and wondering if the wetness is gonna show when I stand up it’s getting so bad, and the leg I crossed is kind of jiggling, and I’m keeping my foot going in time to the music so he thinks I want to dance when I really want to fuck. And he buys another round of tequila shots with a PBR chaser, and we do the lime and salt thing and slug ‘em down.
I really want to go to the ladies and finish myself off ‘cause my pussy’s throbbing now and I don’t know if I trust this guy—he’s acting so weird—and besides I don’t even know if he’s got a car here and I rode with Charlene and she has the keys. And he keeps staring and sometimes looking down toward my jiggling foot and then up my leg and lets his eyes stay awhile on my crotch, and then back up at my boobs, and my nipples are really hard now and tender, and I’m trying to be real cool, so I tell him I’ll buy him a shot this time and I do, and we do the lime and salt thing again, sort of like a couple of buddies, but I’m really wanting it, and now I know I can’t get up because I’m pretty sure my thong’s soaked through.
So he’s still staring, and I’m watching him stare, and then I know it’s too late, and I take a huge breath trying to stop it, but his staring and my squirming and jiggling and the tequila shots and Charlene not being there to take my mind off it, and jezuz, I come right there on the bar stool with him watching me, not touching me or anything, and I’m trying not to moan with it ‘cause it’s a pretty big one. And then I open my eyes and the room comes back into focus—well, as in focus as rooms get after that many tequila shots and coming—and he smiles and says you’re welcome. And I’m like you son of a bitch, why’d you do that. And he’s like because I knew I could and see, they’re still hard.
Then Charlene and the other guy come back and I ask Charlene if I can borrow her sweater and I tie it around my waist, ‘cause I know for a fact I’m wet back there, and she looks at me strange, and I’m like let’s go get a Whopper or something, and we kind of weave our way out of the bar with her in the lead ‘cause she’s missed the last three tequila shots, and I tell her what happened on the way to Burger King, and she’s really impressed and calls it The Immaculate Orgasm, like it needs a special name or something.
So I’m doing better after the Whopper and an order of rings and we go to Walgreens for some gum and then back to my place and I change my thong and put on my lime green mini with the cute polka dots ‘cause I was right, it did show, and we decide to hit The Dark Horse since it’s only ten o’clock.
Originally published December 2010