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Catherine

I am a sci-fi erotica author. I wrote Catherine years ago. You can find the story on the website Cliterature/org or in the sci-fi erotica thriller "The Married Cat & Mouse" on sale at Barnes & Nobles.



Catherine

by M.A. Gill-Branion

There I was sitting with my handsome black husband eating dinner in a fancy Italian restaurant in the Gaslamp Quarter of San Diego. I was listening to his Planning Commissions' proposal on the “City of Villages” project. After three years of marriage Grey had become more distinguished. When he wore glasses, a logical frame dr*ped his intelligence. I asked Grey on several occasions through the years to watch his diet and work out. If it was not for him returning to college to finish his Master’s Degree I do not think he would have ever joined the fitness center on campus. I think the pressure of being thirty-nine years old, and frequently surrounded by younger women, made him self-conscious.

The only real excitement for me was the tall lady in red, across the way, sitting at the dark cherry wood and brass trim bar. The moment she looked at me, naughty little thoughts danced around in my head. She was slimly fit, with freckled pale skin and gorgeous red hair. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and wore a sleek red dress with black fishnet stockings. Her long legs circled down around the wooden barstool like the stripe on a candy cane, which really did it for me. Her eyes looked at mine with wild intent as she stirred her drink

I started to get moist between my legs; it was hard to tell if it was caused by the sheer pantyhose I wore or if it came from my dirty thoughts. I squirmed in my seat, uncrossing my legs to adjust my thong a little because what was once moist had became wet and was running down between my thighs.

That is when I saw her stand up from the bar and start walking in my direction. She seductively grinned when passing our table on her way towards the restrooms; she looked back at me invitingly as she elegantly made her way through the busy place. I soon found myself telling my husband I had to go to the ladies room and was off in the same direction. I just wanted to say hello or to give her a way of contacting me. I was not expecting what happened.

When I entered the women's restroom the lights were off. I started to ask if anyone was in there when a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into the darkness. Whoever it was twisted me around, placing her arm around my stomach, holding my back pressed up against her while placing a hand over my mouth. I drew a deep breath to scream, but her hand was there before I could do anything.

I felt warm air and skin brush the right side of my face as her voice said, "I'm going to do you in one of those stalls over there."

A scent of Shalimar perfume lingered in the air, the hand around my mouth was soft, and I could feel small but firm breasts pressing against my back. I signaled yes by moving my head up and down.

She marched me straight back into the farthest stall. Her arm around my stomach had moved down to between my legs. Her hand pulled up my skirt aggressively. The hand around my mouth moved to my left breast squeezing it lustfully. As soon as we entered the stall the bathroom lights came back on and we could hear other women enter the restroom.

She wasted no time, bending me forward, leaning me over to brace the cold pipes of the toilet. I guess she did not want me to look at her because when I tried to turn my head she would pull my hair and yank my head forward again.

She bent down behind me, lifting my red & black Catholic plaid skirt over my bottom. I felt her mouth press against my hose where I was tingling and her teeth nibbled there. I heard a snapping sound while feeling my hose rip and I quickly realized she had made a hole. Her hands found their way to the hole, where she gripped the hose and in one swift motion, tore the hose wide open. When she ripped them it echoed in the restroom.

She tore my thong off me and I felt it pinch me as it snapped off around my thigh. I felt her tongue plunge into me feverishly. Her pace was as a humming bird’s sonnet and her lips paid special attention to my pleasure while her hands fondled my breasts. I found myself biting my arm to stop from moaning aloud in ecstasy. I bent my head down towards the toilet moving my rear up more to give her better access. My hips gyrated; I just could not help myself. My teeth bit into my arm more as I began to taste blood.

Bending over allowed me to see between my legs so I watched her hand play with herself as she knelt on her knees tasting my pleasure from behind. Her red dress was hoisted up over her hips and her stockings were thigh high. Her glistening fingers moved in a circular motion over her shaven vagina. My orgasm was swelling up in me with my embarrassment because I was a squirter who was about to soak her with a whale of a gush. I started to tell her, but I could hear others in the restroom. God, I did not want anyone to hear us.

I climaxed so hard that I trembled and my knees got weak. I gushed for what seemed a long time, but she continued to work through it. A moan seeped out from between my teeth and my arm. I heard her moan in pleasure as she moved her mouth up above my wet spot to ream me, forcing her tongue in and out of my bottom. This action took me to the next level and I could feel myself about to orgasm again. She plunged fingers inside of me as her tongue continued its anal venture. I came again; shocked to feel her mouth create a seal with my bottom, forcing fluid like an enema into it. She had caught all of my juices in her mouth when I squirted, saving it for my bottom when I climaxed again. The feeling was pure ecstasy.

There I was with my hair a mess, a breast hanging out of my bra, and juices trickling down. I heard our stall door open and close quickly. I stood up slowly, still woozy from two orgasms in a row. I turned around, but she was gone. I quickly straightened myself out while opening the door to the stall. There were five women looking at me. A couple whispered, a couple stared, and one stood frozen. I kept wondering, "Am I so predictable? Is it so obvious I seek the impulsive pleasures of women?"

© 2003 M.A. Gill-Branion


End of Story