Hungry (The Kick Boxer, Part I)

He was hot. Indian, with a handsome face and a rock hard body.

His condo was gorgeous. Fountains in the lobby, wood and marble everywhere, and a lot of amenities.  Oh, how we enjoyed the amenities.

When I arrived, he had trouble buzzing me up, so he came down and got me. We took the elevator to his unit, which was filled with leather, dark wood, boxing gloves, and kick boxing belts.

He offered me a beer, and I accepted, even though I don’t drink beer. It was actually pretty good–I made note of the brand so I could get it again in the future.

We sat on the comfortable leather couch and talked, while Ghostbusters played on TV in the background. We chatted about travel, movies, books, work, real estate, and politics. We laughed and touched. At one point he asked me if I wanted to play a board game, which I thought was adorable. I declined, citing the fact that I can pretty much only play Scrabble, Taboo, and Uno. Apparently this was a real date, and not just a hook-up. It was different. It was nice.

When Ghostbusters was over, we went to separate bathrooms and changed for the pool. I exchanged my blue pencil skirt, red blouse and thigh-highs for a string bikini in electric blue, with ruffles.  When I came out, he treated me to a spectacular view of his muscular body, featuring a very sexy side tattoo.

“You look great,” he told me, pulling me close. “You do not disappoint.” I smiled, and he kissed me. He was a good kisser–soft, but urgent. We stayed locked together like that for a minute or two, before we decided to head to the pool. I had neglected to bring sandals (perhaps on purpose!), so I put on my red heels and off we went.

“God, now you’re even sexier–heels and a bikini!”

I smiled. “Guess you don’t see that every day.”

The Kick Boxer jumped in the pool and told me it wasn’t too cold. I’m a wimp, so I opted to slowly walk in, one step at a time, cringing at the temperature. After about a minute of this,  he grabbed me, carried me to the middle of the pool, and plunged us both to the bottom.

I gasped and kicked my way back to the top. “God, you’re terrible!” I shrieked, laughing. “It’s freezing!”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “Now I get to warm you up.”

“Ahh, so that was your plan.”

“Maybe.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. He carried me to the side of the pool and kissed me. With my legs wrapped around his waist, we tongued and gasped and groped, weightless. He pushed my bikini bottoms to the side as he devoured my mouth, rubbing me. Sliding my hands down his shorts, I gripped his cock and began to jack him off.  He lifted me, so I was half-in the pool with my upper body laying on the deck, and slid his fingers inside my pussy. I screamed as an orgasm overtook my body. As I lay shaking on the cold tile, gasping, my eyes stinging from the chlorine, he said “That was hot.”

I laughed. Yes, it was.

He lifted me effortlessly over to the hot tub, set me down, and turned on the jets. As soon as he sat beside me, we gravitated towards each other like magnets–pawing and sucking, moaning and grinding. The Kick Boxer pulled down the top of my bikini, and took a nipple into his mouth, squeezing the other one. I ran my hands over his god-like body, toying with his dick and biting his neck. After I came, screaming and writhing, he asked if I wanted to hit the steam room.

Once inside, it was more of the same. We grabbed each other urgently, hands and fingers and lips and tongues everywhere. He pressed me down against the bench, pulled down my bottoms, and used his mouth on my already sensitive pussy. He licked and sucked me until I climaxed again, while the room slowly filled with steam so thick it was like mating in a cloud. I pulled him down onto me and we grinded at a fevered pace, dizzy on lust and heat, blind from both of the same.

Eventually we decided to take things upstairs. We showered in his apartment, letting the hot water wash over us. I sank to the floor, taking his cock in my mouth and rubbing my tongue up and down his shaft. He pushed into me, making me gag, but he was so delicious that I kept at it. He pulled me up and dried me off, and then we made our way to his bed.

The sex is a blur. The Kick Boxer impaled me, twisting me into different positions and hitting every spot that could set me off. I screamed and moaned and whimpered; he growled and talked dirty. He pulled out when he was about to come, saying “You almost got me there, but I’m not done with you yet.” Then he fingered me from behind while I rubbed my clit.

When we resumed fucking, it was even harder and more frantic than before. He choked me a couple times, which intensified my pleasure by about 1000%, and I wrapped my legs around his hard, sweaty body, digging my nails into his back and biting his ear.

Then we braked for pizza–true story.

We ate in the living room, lazily touching each other, but as soon as we were done we were once again entangled. He made me come silently, because his neighbours share a wall with the living room.

“I’ll let you get off if you’re quiet,” he promised. I bit my lip and put my hand over my mouth as I shuddered and came. Not being able to scream or moan in release, somehow made it even more acute. As I came down, he told me I was a good girl, then carried me to his room and tossed me onto the bed.

More fucking. My pussy was raw and aching, but still dripping. We pounded the hell out of each other, him telling me I am a dirty slut–words that have the power to send me over the edge all on their own.

“I’m gonna come on you,” he growled, the pulled out as hot cum gushed all over my abs and tits and neck. We fell against each other, finally satisfied–for the moment.

“This may be too soon,” he said, “but we should do this again.”

Oh, yes please.

I get wet just thinking about it. . .and yet, something he said to me keeps echoing in my head:

“I’ve never met a girl as hungry as you.”