Bottoms up! - part I.

We stumbled into the pub half tipsy already. I ordered drinks. Cayenne slid closer on the bar stool until our knees touched. One round turned to three and the room softened at the edges. Her laugh warmed the space between us. Fingers brushed thighs beneath the table, quick at first, then bolder. She traced the line where denim met skin and I felt myself grow hard right there against the stool. We slipped outside into a narrow service corridor. Her mouth found mine. Heat spilled between us, breath and tongues and the taste of gin. Hands slipped under shirts, tugging fabric aside until she palmed my bare stomach, nails dragging just enough to sting. When her knee pressed against my crotch, the seam of my jeans pulled tight. I dropped to my knees and hooked my fingers in the waistband of her skirt. Down came the black lace. Her scent hit me, warm and sweet. I leaned in and licked along her slit, slow, tasting her slick. She moaned loud enough for anyone walking past to hear. Her fingers knotted in my hair and she rocked against my mouth. I sucked her clit between my lips and worked two fingers inside her, curling until her thighs shook. She came quick and hard, thighs clamping my head. She pulled me up. My belt gave way under her impatient hands. My cock sprang free and she wrapped her fingers around it, stroked once, twice, spreading the bead of pre-cum down the shaft. I lifted her against the brick wall. She wrapped her legs around me. One quick thrust buried me to the hilt. Her cunt gripped tight and hot. We fucked like we meant it, urgent, raw, the wall scraping her shoulders as I drove into her. Sweat mixed with gin on our skin. I felt her pulse around me, tighter, then tighter still, and let myself spill, pulsing deep inside her as she gasped my name. We stayed pressed together a moment, breathing hard, the city continuing on the other side of the corridor door.