Our eyes met across the tables. Guys came to Frank's Bar to find other guys and hopefully get laid. He was a lager drinker, a good sign. I was on iced cider, the latest craze. He was coloured, probably Caribbean. This part of London had its share, especially on carnival day.When he went to get a refill at the bar, I went too. I'd timed it that way, pacing my drink with his. I stood next to him waiting my turn, listening to the rich inflection in his voice when he spoke to the barmaid, the only female in the joint, apart from Frank's missus.We didn't speak, but eyed each other's reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He had on a white shirt with the cuffs turned back. His blue-black wrists were covered in fine hair. There was a little flurry in my guts, like a butterfly settling on a flower the first day of spring.I caught his eye in the mirror. His mouth curved into a smile before he looked away. I could smell the heat coming off him, almost taste it. In the mirror I could see the. .“What if she did know about why I was here...would she like be involved?”....Deliciously arousing images filled your mind of the receptionist using you, enjoying the pleasures we are going to share this weekend. Vivid images of,...the receptionist applying nipple-clamps, then pulling hard as she enjoyed your moans......using a paddle on your breasts, then her soft lips kissing and sucking on your hard nipples......her hands holding your head tight to her pussy, enjoying your tongue as you please her...The images filling your mind, making your pussy throb with desire for another woman, a stranger so much you almost miss the turn at the top of the hill. Trying to focus again you reverse then turn right, as you had been directed....or was it instructed...by the receptionist. Within a couple of minutes driving slowly on the dirt track you arrive at the cabin. Sitting in your car for a moment to gather your thoughts, or rather to try to clear your mind of arousing and distracting thoughts.
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