Truth or Dare ‘Explicit Content’

 “Truth or dare?”

We were sitting in Benjy’s at 10:30pm on a Thursday night; it was my first time seeing her since she called me over two weeks ago. The restaurant/ lounge was packed and we were in a booth in the corner. It was dark and the liquor was flowing. I had on a pair of black slacks, a white button down shirt and a black cashmere sweater. Issey Miyake of course, she was wearing a sexy dress that was backless and short. I had no idea what her perfume was but I did know it was alluring as hell.

“Truth.” She said

“How often do you think about me?” I took a sip of my beer and looked her in her very intoxicated eyes.

“Is that a trick question?” She could flirt without ever saying a word.

“It seemed like a pretty straight forward question to me.”

She took a sip of her wine and placed her hand on my thigh.

“I mean, if you’re asking how often I think about you as a person, that’s one thing. About our future, that’s another question; but if you’re asking how often I think about fucking you. That’s the money question.” She gave me courage to be freaky as hell, I think we did that for each other.

“You think too much! Why don’t you pick which one you want to tell me?!” She rubbed her hand along the inside of my thigh.

“I can’t focus the first half of my work day because I can’t get our morning conversations out of my mind, your voice, the way you’re frustrated at the morning traffic or excited about payday. The way you talk about your “toy” like it’s an adequate substitute. All those things make me want you.”

She licked her lips and motioned for the waiter.

“They make you want me how? What’s the first thing you think of doing?” She was setting the game off right.

“That’s more than one question; you’re breaking the rules of the game.” Her smile was electric!

“We can make our own rules tonight.”

The waiter walked over to the table, I knew her drinking habits better than I knew her religious views.

“Let me get another bottle of wine, another Bud Light Draft and four shots of Patron.”

“Yes sir, I’ll have that out in a minute.”

“Thank you.”

I picked up where we left off.

“The first thing I think about doing is kissing you; I guess I’m old fashioned like that. I like kissing, I love kissing or maybe I just love using my mouth on things. Who knows? Your voice makes me hard.”

“So you’re hard now?” She winked, I took her hand and placed it on my lap.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

“Are you daring me?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“You have to say it and you also have to know you can’t beat me at this game. I’m the truth or dare Queen.”

“I DARE YOU!”

She never looked down, never took her eyes off mine, never gave anyone in the restaurant a clue as to what she was doing. She pulled it completely out and touched it, rubbed around the tip and just played with and held it like it was hers. The way I was feeling about her, it was hers for as long as she wanted it.

“I guess you weren’t lying, he feels different since the last time I touched him, smoother. You’ve been using some new soap or something?”

“Nothing like that, you’ve just been acting funny for too long, so you’re out of touch with him.”

“I’m positive we’ll get back in touch tonight, I do miss him, even though he’s a little hard on me.”

“I thought you liked him better when he was hard on you, a little rough on you.”

“I like him like that but to be honest, I like him better when I can wake him up.”

“What’s your best method for waking him up? Do you think he responds better to your hands or your mouth?”

“That’s a good question; you’re his bestfriend, why don’t you tell me what he says to you.”

“He likes when you touch him, your hands are really small and soft, he feels big when one of those are wrapped around him. Hugging him; however, he is a sucker for that mouth of yours, those pouty lips.”

“Oh, that’s good to know. I forgot whose turn it is, I think it’s mine.”

“Shoot.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to slide your hand under my dress; I have a surprise for you.”

“Is the surprise dangerous?”

“Why would it be dangerous?”

“Why would you make it a dare?”

“I’m made it a dare because what’s under the dress is addictive but I’m sure you already know that. I’m making it a dare because this place is packed and someone has to know what we’re doing in this booth.”

Her dress was tight, she had to sit up a little and raise it up over her ass just so I could gain access. If the booth wasn’t so high everyone in the place would get a show because she was not wearing panties.

“I took them off in the car, once I smelled your cologne; I knew I wouldn’t need them.”

“So you’re reading minds now.”

“Not minds, just a mind. I’m in your head boy and you know it.”

“You’re right, it is addictive, you know I can’t control myself now.”

“Hmmmm…. Ohhh My Goood, that feels so good. I wish I could cut off your hand and take it with me.”

She was getting a little too comfortable, her eyes were closed and her head was titled to the side. When I saw the waiter walking towards us with our drinks I stopped playing around down there but I didn’t take my fingers out. It was too warm to move my hand.

He sat our drinks down.  

“Thank You.” I waited until he was out of ear hustle range. “But you wouldn’t know how to use my hand the way I do, we’re a package deal. Does my hand make you feel good?”

“Your hand makes me cum often.”

“You are pretty wet, I’m guessing no one has touched my girl since me right?”

“You would guess right, for some reason she’s really fond of you. At night, when I’m playing with my toy to get a good nights sleep, we like to imagine it’s your tongue pressing town on my clit. Vibrating and licking… Hmmmm….”

I had to change the subject, she was getting wetter and wetter and my probing was getting more and more intense. I was a drip away from picking her up and sitting her in my lap.

“It’s my turn, truth or date?”

“Dare.”

“Hmmmm…. A drunken tongue speaks no lies, so I dare you to drink all four shots of patron, half the bottle of wine and your beer. Without stopping! If you’re chicken, don’t worry about.”

She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Oh… And you can’t take your magic fingers out my pussy.”

“I’m always up for a challenge but if I throw up all over you, that’s your fault.” She laughed a really sexy, really drunk laugh.

Patron shot one, two, three four! I slammed the last shot glass down and burped.

I chugged the beer and placed my fist over my mouth, the wine was going to be the hardest because I hadn’t been drinking it all night but I was a winner.

“You don’t have to drink it; you can always admit that you’re a loser!” She licked her tongue out at me. I added another finger to the two I already had inside of her, I could feel her open her legs wider under the table.

I didn’t even bother putting the wine in a glass; I just took it to the head until I killed half the bottle. The fucking room was spinning. I put my hand on my face and closed my eyes tight. I was fucked up. I took my hands out of her and licked my fingers like I’d just ate some hot wings.

“You taste something you like?” She took that same hand and licked the last finger.

“Ummm, I had to see what has you so addicted, is my baby drunk?” She laughed and kissed me, the kiss was abrupt and hard but I damn sure kissed back. I was never into PDA but I didn’t care about much when it came to her.

“I want you to take me to your truck and let me ride your face and your dick! Can your drunk ass do that?!” I placed my hands on her waist while she sat up to pull her dress down.

“I can do that, I’m not that drunk, but I don’t have any condoms so what are we going to do?” We stood up and I paid the bill with a generous tip. She stood up on her tippy toes and licked the side of my face.

“I’ll just have to pull out and I’ll just have to swallow.”

“Let’s go…”

”Anticipation is the central ingredient in sexual desire. As sex has a major cognitive component, the most important element for desire is positive anticipation indeed; one name for pleasurable anticipation is excitement.”

 I’m dedicating this story to you and there is no way you can’t know who you are….

My Definition of A Woman… Wait, How Can I Define A Woman?

Author Demez F. White

Author Demez F. White

My Definition of A Woman… Wait, How Can I Define A Woman?

Do you know exactly what you want? Have you thought about it and dreamed about it and pleasured yourself to everything from how she’s going to look to what she’s going to be wearing. Have you defined exactly what you want from her and what she’s going to do for you?

I know I have. I’ve thought about it often and if I’m being honest, in doing that I’m doing myself an injustice. One of the coolest things about women is that none of them are exactly alike. Sure, women can dress alike and talk alike but each person is just interestingly different. So why are we trying to define them?

Some of the best relationships and friendships of my life have come when I got to know women that were outside of my comfort zone. I’m a confident man but I can be quiet at times; I like to sit down and survey the room, listen to the conversation before I get in and give my opinion. That life of the party, let’s take shots woman, knows everyone’s name woman. That’s not what I saw myself with until I actually talked to her and fell in love with her and got inspired by her. It may not have lasted but it helped me become a better man, I better writer.

My definition of a woman isn’t what she does or what she wears. It isn’t that we have to have sex this many times or she needs to cook that many times. My definition of a woman isn’t anything I can define. When she walks into a room do I smile as though my direct deposit just hit on a Friday when I wasn’t expecting it until Monday? Does she respect her mother, laugh with her sisters, have friends that trust her? If I can’t write does a text from her telling me something silly or freaky or funny inspire the words to jump off the page? These are the questions I ask myself, not before I meet her, this isn’t an interview. These are the questions I ask when I’m falling in love and I don’t know about you but I can’t put falling in love in any sort of category nor can I define it. I just know it feels perfect.

A woman should be, wait, that doesn’t sound right. A women needs to be, stop, that doesn’t sound right either. A woman is perfect if she’s, if she’s what? Many men, including myself have become experts in what a woman should be. How she should dress, how she should act, what she should do with her vagina and hair and career. It’s not hard really, all it takes is an opinion, and we all have them. What I’ve seen lately however is the habitual destruction of individualism and creativity.

By giving a woman a definition, a standard she has to meet or else, aren’t we, aren’t I, taking away the very thing we love about most women. That piece of them that separates them from the last woman we dated. Yes, there will be general characteristics we’re attracted to. I love women that are witty, sexy, geeky but confident but does that mean I need to define every other aspect of what I want out of her? Instead defining I’m just going to start enjoying.

The next time you get ready to compare a woman to another woman or tell the world why these sorts of women suck or these sorts are amazing. Just remember we’re defined by our actions, not anything else.

Demez F. White