+18 years

Prey where are you?

Prey of tonight, Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

It’s been several weeks since I’ve had anything to eat. I’ve had periods when I could have, but didn’t feel like it, and others when I would have felt like it, but didn’t have the opportunity.

Tonight, I feel like it and the opportunity, I intend to create it.

Big night

Clearly, the evening is starting strong. We are on fire with my colleagues, and the rounds of shots follow one another. Everyone is in a festive mood and it’s great to see!

Personally, beyond the general jubilation, I try to find an ephebe in which to plant my fangs. But I don’t manage to do much.

I am drunk, as almost all those who surround me.

While strolling in the bar, I cross a rather well-built dark-haired man, his chest well highlighted in a white turtleneck sweater. He is rather nice at first sight. We exchange a few words, where I learn that he is from Bordeaux and of passage in Paris.

Later, we meet again in the bar, we discuss a little, and I feel quickly receptive. I really want to dance, I want to be twirled and twirled.

I am a little insistent, I feel that he would prefer to discuss and to kiss me, but docile, he follows me a few centimeters farther, to begin some clumsy steps of dance.

Clumsy, he is clearly. And our bodies, hit each other, scratch each other, and our rhythms do not agree at all.

As if to end this massacre, he leans in and kisses me. Too much tongue and too much biting, my lips beg me to stop. I am not a fan at all.

Under the pretext of joining my friends, I walk away. He gives me an almost evil look and gives me a slightly angry “See you later”.

The bad guy in the white sweater

I dance, I have fun, but I can’t help looking for other prey. No other on the horizon, only the man with the white sweater remains, who has already tasted my lips.

Hmmm, after all, was it that bad? So like a cracked man in need of his fix, I go back to the crazy biter. And once again, the dance is catastrophic and the kisses too wild.

Alchemy, zero.

Again, I pretend to go back to dance with my friends, to leave him. But this time, he gets annoyed, and becomes more and more unpleasant. He keeps repeating “Don’t waste your time with the Parisians, they suck”.

He takes my hand, pulls me to him, and I detach myself. Leave me alone, you naughty boy.

I manage to “escape” him, I go back to a safe place, close to my friends. However, I feel him lurking, he is never far away, his eyes are looking for me, and when they find me, I become the prey…

I become less and less kind, I try to make him understand that I don’t want anything more to do with him. But he insists, touches my buttocks at each of his passages and does not hesitate to pull my hair after having stolen a kiss.

“With me, you will become docile. But it’s not going to happen, is it?

Finally, I let some of my colleagues come to my rescue and I take advantage of this human shield to have no more contact with him.

Mojo up turned on

My mojo could have taken a hit, yet I feel great. And when we leave the bar, I intend to discover new hunting grounds.

After having been rejected from a first club, having eaten a pancake and having been slightly groped (with consent) by a colleague, we are at the Rex.

The club is almost empty. Everyone is crowding around the DJ. And not only, people don’t seem to have drunk only water, but I have the impression that they have consumed some little magic pills.

At least here, no judgment. Everyone is in his own world, rocked by the notes of the electro music.

I am not yet on the track that a man calls me, his eyes are shining, he is under the spell. He is nice, but I don’t like him. The compliments rain down, he is nice and I try to dismiss him as nicely as possible. Not always easy…

I take his number, and I tell him I will call him later. Pretext friends engaged for the 10th time tonight.

Prey spotted.

He is dark, not very tall, but he is handsome. His nose is fine, he has pretty lips and almond-shaped brown eyes. He dances from one foot to the other, he looks like he is in another stratosphere.

I want him. I approach with muffled steps, I come to dance beside him. But nothing, not a glance, not a movement. He is in his bubble. Impossible to enter, unless…

I place myself squarely in front of him, I face him and I begin to dance a little more sensually than the music would like.

His eyes finally meet mine, he smiles at me. We dance like that, eyes in eyes, for a few minutes, then I pass a hand behind his neck, and our lips finally touch.

He lets himself be under my kiss. The kiss is really nice. Is it because I’m the one leading him?

We kiss for a few minutes, then we continue to dance. He excuses himself to join his buddies for a while.

I join mine. Two have already left, and the other three will not be long.

No, I would not leave again with them, it is out of question that I return alone this evening. Little brown one, you are mine, in my den you will finish.

Or not

I join my little prey of the evening. A small dance and my lips quickly take possession of his. I really want him, really want him. It is almost 4 o’clock, tomorrow I work, it is not all, but it would be necessary to think of activating the plan “Lair”.

From far away, my colleagues signal me, they desert the place. For them, it’s time to go home. No, not for me, don’t worry, I am in good hands.

I follow their exit with my eyes, wondering if I was right to stay. But when I turn around and see my little brown man, the doubt disappears.

My fingers take again place in his hair then in his nape of the neck. My lips taste his neck and whisper some naughty phrases. Unfortunately, even if he still seems so happy to kiss me, it doesn’t create more desire in his underpants… Or at least, what I imagine.

“I’m just going out for five minutes with a buddy to smoke outside. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

I don’t even have time to answer, he already disappears. Uh… Ok I’ll wait for you here in the middle of strangers on a music I half appreciate. Great. Really great.

Come back, little prey

The minutes tick by and I’m alone on the dance floor. I close my eyes and I try to let myself be carried by the bits of music, even if I would have liked rather the word with an e more…

I open my eyes again, he is still not back. 4:20 am… Argh, tomorrow’s alarm clock will be painful. What do I do? What if he doesn’t come back?

One of his buddies has been staring at me for a while. I approach him, I ask him a few questions. He is nice and rather funny, he is charming in his rugbyman style, tall and stocky, a face from the South West… Nothing to do with the other one, but not bad all the same.

He answers me that the thing of his friend, it can last a while… It’s not cigarettes that he went to smoke, if I know what he means…

Ok… Great… Pfff, what’s the point, frankly, considering the state of the little brown guy, even if I manage to convince him to follow me to my place, it might not lead to much…

The predator becomes the prey

Romain (the imaginary rugby player) proposes me to discuss on a bench, while waiting for his friends. I can see that shaking on the dance floor is not really his thing… Besides, he didn’t take drugs, so good.

We discuss a long time, I feel good, but the tiredness begins to point the end of its nose… Wouldn’t it be better if I went home instead?

His humor is deadpan, and the exchanges are pleasant. I follow him in the smoking room. The smell is horrible, the fumes of cigarettes turn my head. He offers me one, I refuse it.

I feel that he looks at me in a more suggestive way, his body gets closer to mine. Ah, Romain, you seem to like me. He leans over and kisses me. The kiss is not very remarkable, neither good nor bad. In short I feel nothing.

We resume our discussion as if nothing had happened. I notice then my small brown man beside the entry. He looks at me without seeing me. Did he surprise us?

I advance towards him, I kiss him. After having let himself be kissed a few seconds, he disengages himself. He goes back to dance, I ask him in the hollow of the ear if he wants to go back with me, he answers me “Not immediately”. It is 5 am, I do not have the faith to wait. Ciao cutie.

Romain arrives behind me and takes me by the hip. His gesture wakes up my little hormones in madness, I turn, I look at him and he kisses me.

“Do you want to go home together?” His words are direct, at least I’m not wasting my time anymore. I gauge him one last time, ummm yeah not bad, let’s go.


We go out of the box after having recovered his coat. He decides that we go to his place, because the 19th does not inspire him confidence.

No cab seems to want to point the end of its nose. He grumbles. A little too much for my taste.

Finally, the cab is there, we jump in and hop. During all the journey, he puts his hand on my thigh and plays to go up his fingers under my skirt. I am not going to lie, that excites me. It excites me, but it also bothers me. Chouchou, we are not alone in the car, and seen the looks of the driver, she does not lose a crumb.

If its caresses are pleasant, the conversation, it, makes me more skeptical. Swollen with pride to live on the island of Saint Louis, he makes a lot of fuss. Boasting has rarely been attractive to me…

We finally arrive in front of his house, I expect a crazy apartment, since he has been talking about his job as an architect for several minutes.

The building is quite classical. When finally he opens the door, and that we arrive on the main room, the disappointment falls like a blow of massacre.

Uh, are you sure you are an architect, kitten? Because there… An old sofa strewn with crumbs and alcohol stains (I think) takes a third of the room. The kitchen is modern and must have been quite nice before, but it’s overrun with all kinds of alcohol bottles, improvised ashtrays and other pizza boxes…

The coffee table has nothing to envy to the rest of the apartment.

Disgust ?

I admit that at the time it disgusts me a little. I’m not a maniac, but there are limits… He offers me to settle on the sofa.

I push mine away with a wave of my hand, and sit down.

“Would you like a drink?” “Just water.” His gaze almost looks disappointed, he brings me a tall glass of water, and clutches a pint of Goudale.

Really? It’s 5:30, I think you’ve had enough to drink, right? He takes big gulps of it before starting to activate his phalanges. His caresses become more and more naughty. Very quickly, his fingers pass the rampart of my tights and my panties.

Mister still has an appetite. Very well, I am hungry. He grabs the back of my neck and kisses me. His kiss is way too slobbery, the beer really didn’t help and I feel like he’s licking half my face. It’s like kissing a beer sponge.

I push his lips to the back of my neck, to avoid his schoolboy scoops. Fortunately, his fingers are more naughty and efficient. He undresses me little by little, I feel his irises shining with desire.

“You’re beautiful, we have to tell you often … ” Uh, not really actually, but keep telling me, it can’t hurt.

His drooling lips roam my body and soon attack my intimacy. He’s voracious but not very effective. Anyway, with all the saliva he puts there, I’m going to be well lubricated…

Thanks to myself

He slowly moves up to my lips, and kisses me again. Then as if the sex was choreographed, he waits for me to give him back the device. He awkwardly removes his pants and boxers, blushing a little.

He displays a medium-sized midriff. I take care of him a little, but I really want to have him inside me. When I finally feel that he is less soft than hard, I pull a condom out of my bag and put it on. Unfortunately, we know the ravages of alcohol on the penis.

On … Off … On … Off … We change positions several times, without much effectiveness. Until the moment or back to straddle above him, my little fingers are activated on my magic button. And suddenly, the pleasure crosses my body.

Finally, I remain as petrified a moment, it makes me change position, disappointed not to have seen my face under orgasm. Sorry bichon, but not seeing yours, is probably also at the origin of this orgasm…

Once again, the on off is in order. And tired, I end up proposing him to go to bed. It is a little more than 6 am, I have 2h30 of sleep left…

Disappointed, he escorts me to his room… well his bed, blocked in a room hardly bigger. His sheets don’t seem to be fresh from the day before, but never mind. I have to sleep.

I whisper to him that he can wake me up, if the machine starts working again at full speed.

The shortest night

I am just starting to fall asleep, when I feel Romain on my back. He grunts a little. His body is warm… And oh, look, he seems to be in better shape than before.

My pelvis undulates against his, as if to give him permission. He’s about to enter when I step back to remind him that something is missing… Damn, we have to do everything here.

He gets up and comes back a few dozen seconds later, ripped off his armor.

The machine is on its way, my fingers too. I’m tired, so I only offer him a spoonful of naughty lazy. This time the orgasm will be on his side. He slumps on the side of the bed.

I straddle him, and I run to the toilet. Oh my god, but in which state is the bathroom… Ewww, I look for the soap for the hands, and I fall back on the shower gel.

I can’t wait to get out of here tomorrow morning. I go back to bed, I take a quick look at my phone. 7:15… Great, my alarm clock is set to 8:45… 1h30 of sleep is better than nothing, isn’t it?


I wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off. My body is numb, and I feel that I have no energy. I have a splitting headache and a slight nausea. It was a dream.

I turn around, he’s not in the bed. Strange. I get up slowly, open the door and see him asleep on the sofa, a few more cans lined up on the table. Okay…

Did he leave because I was snoring? Because he couldn’t sleep? Because he didn’t want to sleep?

I quickly run to the shower and grab her towel to dry myself.

Now it’s time to get my hands on all my little things. They are scattered all around the sofa. Dress, done, thong, found, tshirt, ah mince it sleeps on, I pull a little, it does not wake up. I spot my jacket and vest on the chair.

Shoes ok… But where are my tights? Ah yes, I see them, two fingers from his face, I approach slowly, and delicately I remove them. He doesn’t flinch.

Neither one nor two I get dressed in a hurry. Small outfit of the day before, some sheets of toilet paper slipped in the panties and I am ready to face the day.

I look at him one last time, my eyes go through this wasteland apartment, and I slam the door.

Goodbye Romain.