Honey Trap Part One — Giselle Renarde

When Brezida stepped out of the stall, Jack was sitting on the loveseat across from the sinks.  She hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t heard his footfall against the black tile, but somehow his presence—even in the women’s washroom—didn’t shock her.  After-hours at the restaurant, there was no telling what he might do.  One leg crossed the other, his right ankle resting on his left knee.  This was Jack’s signature pose when seated, though Jack was almost always on his feet.

His gaze followed her to the clear glass basin where she washed her hands, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a smile.  “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Looking forward to what?” he asked, rising to his feet.  The innocence of his tone bordered on snide.

“You know what,” she replied, unzipping her purse.  “All evening, I couldn’t wait to lock the front door, send home the staff and wait for the owner to corner me.”

“Brezida,” Jack whispered into her hair, hovering close behind her as she bent toward the mirror to freshen her lipstick.  Even on a store mannequin, that low-cut wrap-around dress would have given him a hard-on.  Oh, who was he kidding?  He’d be drooling if he caught a glimpse of it on a wire hanger.  But the classy striped dress, just barely clinging to Brezida’s flesh, beckoned him all through her shift.

“Brazilian Brezida,” he growled, digging her tits out of her black lace bra.  They were perfect.  Firm but yielding, they seemed to melt into his hands.  He pressed them together, watching in the mirror as her cleavage augmented threefold.

“I’m from El Salvador, you ignorant low-life,” Brezida teased, rubbing her ass against him.

He took in a sharp breath and the familiar scent of her perfume filled his lungs.  As she massaged his hard cock with her fleshy posterior, Jack ran both hands down the front of her dress.  “I wasn’t talking countries of origin.”

Brezida smirked, spreading her legs.  When he rubbed her pussy through the smooth fabric of that erection-enhancing dress, she writhed against his hand.  “You want a Brazilian?” she murmured, grasping his fingers as she lifted her skirt.  “Here it is.”

When he plunged his eager fingers beneath her sheer g-string, she guided them down her baby-smooth mound and between her soft lips.  Her slit was bursting with juice when he slid his fingers inside.  God, he couldn’t wait to fuck her, and she’d be begging for it in a minute, but Jack liked to take his time, to tease his managing partner.  He rubbed her clit, stepping backward and pulling up the hem of her dress so they could watch in the mirror.  Brezida let her g-string fall to the floor.  Her big tits heaved as she writhed against Jack’s hand.

Her stiletto heel stabbed his toe when she pushed against him, forcing him down on the sofa.

“You just can’t wait for it, can you?” he said with a devilish smirk.

“I can’t wait to fuck you.”  Her breath was hot on his lips.  “I can’t wait to feel your huge cock in my cunt.  I can’t wait to throw my tits in your face and feel your tongue all over them.”

Jack could take a hint.  As she fished a condom from the depths of her purse, he pressed his face into her breasts until he could barely breathe.  “God, I love your tits!”

“I love your cock,” she cooed, rubbing its drooling tip through his black slacks.  She undid his belt and the fly of his pants, his firm erection from his jockey shorts and stroking it between her palms. “Just taking this huge thing in my hands gets me so wet.”

“Does it?  Does my cock turn you on?”

“Oh yeah,” she growled, slipping a condom down the length of his firm shaft.  With the snap of latex, his cock pulsed against her palm.

“How about this?” he asked, sucking her aroused nipple into his mouth.

Brezida moaned, throwing her head back so her long black hair landed against his balls.  “I love that!”

“What else?” Jack asked, switching tits.  “Tell me what else turns you on.”

Smacking her clit with his sheathed hard-on, she turned toward the frosted glass of the women’s bathroom door.  Some figment of her imagination must have given her a fright, because she paused, distracted, staring at the brushed nickel door handle like it was about to turn.  She shook her head, sending black hair flailing.  “I think we have rats.”

“What restaurant doesn’t?” he replied with a shrug.  “Come on, now, sit on my cock.”

She hovered over him like she might change her mind, like she might decide she didn’t want to fuck him today after all. A keen smirk bled across her lips as she grasped the base of his shaft.  Falling on his firm cock, she let it pierce her core.  She cried out like its mass was killing her, and her thrill sent a shiver right through him.  Pulling her close, he sucked hard on her tits.

“You want to know what turns me on?” she cried, running her hands through his hair.  She spoke loudly, almost shouting.  “You want to know what really turns me on, Jack Bannerman?  That you’re here with me while you’re wife’s at home in bed.  I love that you lie to her.  I love that you fuck me every night after the restaurant closes and she’s totally clueless about it.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked with a breathy laugh.  “Really?  That gets you hot?”

“Oh yes, Jack Bannerman.  Or should I say Mayor Bannerman?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jack gushed, warmed by her confidence.  “The election’s two weeks away.”

“Oh, you’ll win it, Jack,” Brezida cried, hurling herself at his cock.  Her pussy devoured it all the way to the root, until he was swimming in her juices.  She was so wet her nectar streamed through his pubic hair, soaking his balls.  “Doesn’t it turn you on, Jack Bannerman?  Doesn’t it get you hot, knowing this whole town thinks you’re Mr Morality?  And here you are every night, getting fucked by a slut from the restaurant.”

Did it turn him on?  Jack growled like a grizzly.  He pressed her tits together and drove his face between them, licking them, sucking them, kissing them in a frenzy.  “Brezida!” he howled, bucking up at her so she bounced in his lap.  “Yeah, give it to me, you little slut.  Your tits are mine!”

“Shit, yeah, Mr Mayor.  My tits are yours!” she cried, licking his ear.

“You think you can give it up around town, but your tight cunt is mine.  You’re all mine.”

“I’m all yours, Mayor Bannerman!”

Releasing her breasts, he grasped her hips, holding her body still as he drove his hard cock up inside her.  She threw her head back and opened her sweet red lips.  Her tits heaved and fell, bouncing with every thrust he issued.  As her long hair fell against his throbbing balls, Jack pressed his face against her chest, crying out.

She pulled away from him, leaning back until her hands were behind her, resting on his knees, and he couldn’t reach her nipples.  “Say my name.”

“Brezida!” he cried, and she leaned forward so he could press his face into her luscious tits as he came.  Gasping, he looked up into her eyes.  “Wow!  That was fucking incredible.”

“Shit, yeah it was, Mayor Bannerman,” she agreed, lovingly petting his cheek as she assessed him with large hazel eyes.

Crawling from his lap, she collapsed on the sofa as Jack stood up to lose the condom and wash the tell-tale pussy juice from his pants.  She tucked her tits back into her bra and arranged her dress as he headed for the bathroom door.

“You’re leaving?” she hollered as he reached for the handle.

Turning on his heels, he asked, “Do I have your permission?”

She stared at the frosted glass door, wide-eyed.

“Afraid of the rats?” Jack laughed.

Snapping back into reality, Brezida teased, “If I had an aversion to rats, I wouldn’t be fucking you every night.”

Grinning, Jack opened the door and sauntered between the tables stacked with chairs.  “Hasta mañana, Brezida.”

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Don’t miss Part Two of this sexy encounter posted one week from today.  Giselle is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica, read more of her sexy stories.

Eroticist Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 50 short story anthologies, and author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and My Mistress’ Thighs. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica or visit her Donuts and Desires blog at www.donutsdesires.blogspot.com.