slinkymel's blog / Dangerous Game

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10:00 Dangerous Game

Hi

Last night I did one of the most dangerous things I’ve ever done - plumbing new depths of stupidity – even for me! However, regular readers of my blog might be surprised (and maybe disappointed) to hear that, for once, it doesn’t involve being tied up, throttled or spanked.

It started a few months ago when the five of us were sitting at a table in a club drinking cocktails and having a good time. I notice this guy staring at me and I splutter and almost snort strawberry daiquiri down my dress. He is my boss from work and he has obviously ‘read’ me. He’s not actually my direct boss – but several layers above – and he’s a right nasty shit. His favourite line is: “You’re fired – do not return to your desk – security will escort you from the building.” I shared a lift with him once and he turned to me and thrust his briefcase into my arms. “Hold that” he says as he straightens his tie. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ – just the effortless presumption of the powerful. Now he has recognised me and I will be escorted from the building on Monday morning.

But he’s not actually looking at me – well not in the eye anyway – he’s staring at my shoes. I cross and recross my legs and fiddle with my ankle chain and see that he only has eyes for my feet. He moves closer and I wiggle my toes so the gold rings catch the light and his tongue flicks across his lips. However Lou misses nothing and takes my arm – “we need to powder our noses”. I think she is going to slap me when I tell her who he is, but she calms down and launches one of her rescue missions. Within a minute Zvonko has opened the fire-escape and Lou and Simon lead me away while Zahra and Stas distract him by performing a little girl-on-girl right in front of him. I met him in the lift a few days later: “Did you have a nice weekend?” I ask. “Yes – my wife was away so I went up to London to watch the rugby.”

Tonight, he is ‘watching the rugby’ again but this time Lou and Stas are singing on stage and I’m sitting with Zahra. I’m wearing a black mini dress with a pink cinch belt and pink platform shoes and it is these that have caught his attention. Just to make sure I wiggle my toes and he takes a few steps closer. I walk to the ladies and he actually follows me – waiting outside in case I do a runner again! However all I’m doing is making sure my makeup is perfect and slipping in a pair of green contact lenses. I walk back into the club and look surprised to see him – I ask if he wants to join us and he agrees. I take his left hand and notice the tell-tale white mark where he’s taken off his wedding ring.

“You have a stunning figure.” He says and I look all ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’. “You have beautiful eyes” he says and I flutter my eyelashes. “You look familiar. Do I know you?” My heart misses a beat and I manage to croak “I think you’re mistaking me for Kylie Minogue!” I need to distract him so I bring the pink platforms into view, wiggle my toes with their shiny black nail polish at him and he loses interest in my identity. He goes to get drinks and I whisper to Zahra and she takes herself off. He returns and pretty soon we are snogging. He has his hands up my skirt and I’m feeling the front of his trousers and thinking that he wants to get to know me a whole lot better. I suggest we somewhere else and he agrees.

It’s the same old hotel with the same old furtive guests but this is a first – I actually have to pay for the room myself, as his hands remain well-and-truly away from his wallet. We go upstairs and into the room, mercifully the bed has clean sheets – and he draws me into his arms. He looks at me carefully – this is crunch time. “I can’t help feeling I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He says as he looks me up and down. I have a distinctive face with a dimple in my chin and a small scar where some bastard guy broke my cheekbone a few years back. But it’s all a matter of diversion and he’s too interested in my green eyes to see the scar and too interested in the diamond stud in my nose and glossy cerise pink lips to see my chin. Yet still he stares at me – his eyes flickering as if he is searching thousands of personnel files. I play my ace. “Were you at the club a few weeks ago – I was wearing a blue dress?” He doesn’t think that’s where he knows me from but the seeds of doubt have been sown. I unbutton his shirt and he loses interest in his cerebral HR files as we fall across the bed.

I know I have to be quick in case he recognises me, but the frisson of danger is like an aphrodisiac and I am hot for him. His cock is not large – No! let’s call a spade a frickin’ spade – it’s frickin’ tiny. It is fully erect and he clearly has a complex about it. I murmur – “It’s beautiful, just perfect for me!” and slide my silky lips around it. But I’m dying to say “It looks like a cock………only smaller!” I shift position until my own cock is over his face - but he clearly has no intention of letting it anywhere near his mouth - so I concertina my body and present my heels to him - together with a close-up view of my little puckered ass! He grabs an ankle and his tongue is all over my foot – licking my bare arches - poking it between my toes and finally sliding my heels into his mouth. That really annoys me – I had a frickin’ shower not four hours ago yet he acts as if my cock is radioactive – but we’ve just walked through streets littered with unspeakable animal and human detritus yet he thinks nothing of putting my heels in his mouth. My age-old gripe again – why do guys never say: “What would you like me to do for you Melanie?”

Within about five minutes I’ve got the cleanest heels in Britain but small-dick is about to shoot his load into my mouth. I roll off him – much to his disappointment – and lead him over to the dressing table stool where I sit him down and stand over him with my cock hovering in front of his eyes. He looks absolutely terrified that I’m going to touch him with it, but instead I lower myself onto his stiff little dick. He clearly hadn’t anticipated that his little extra-marital activity would go this far but he’s trapped between a chair and a tranny and he slides into me a moment before my weight pins him to the seat. I fight the urge to say: “Is it in yet?” and whisper “You are sooo big - that feels sooo good” even though I’ve had bigger fingers in my ass! I have to be fast because he’s gonna be a quick shooter so I grip his neck and kiss him as I wrap my legs around his back. He grabs handfuls of my hair and bites on my lip, hard and painfully – bastard! - and I taste my own blood before he moans “Julia”. Then he climaxes inside me and, at the same instant I rake my heels down his back from shoulder to waist. He hardly notices in the throes of his orgasm and I hold him while he slobbers over my shoulder and calls me his wife’s name, over and over.

I can sense that he just wants out of the room. He’s fucked a tranny, been thrilled by the encounter and is now in the grips of ‘shagger’s remorse’. I suggest we shower and he reluctantly agrees, probably figuring it will remove my perfume from his body so it doesn’t taint his clothes. I finger my swollen lip as I rub soap into his back and he winces. Fuck me! – those scratches will be there for weeks!!! In the meantime I know that Zahra has emerged from the wardrobe and is doing her bit. On the pavement he kisses me perfunctorily on the cheek and, without so much as a “thank you” strides away with more of his effortless presumption. Zahra joins me and gives me the wedding ring, business card and credit card she has lifted from his clothes. She looks at me and I can see the wheels turning inside her pretty little head. As usual Lou has put her up to it. She smiles coyly at me and announces:

“You go with so many men that when you die they bury you in Y-shaped coffin!”

Zahra looks pleased with herself so I laugh and make a mental note to pay Lou back – whatever the cost!

I return to the hotel straightaway and chat to the receptionist. I put so much business his way that he’s only too happy to refund my money and charge the ‘bridal suite’ to the credit card. Within an hour of returning home I’m out again to the post box around the corner to send his wedding ring to Julia, together with the cards – it’s surprisingly easy to find out where someone lives!!! I contemplate giving her a blow-by-blow account but decide to remain anonymous. I’ve nothing against her – but I wish I could be a fly on the wall when he tries to explain the mysterious package, the hotel bill on his card – and, of course, the scratches on his back!

Love

Melanie

xxxx



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