He was hot. Rugged and manly, despite wearing a kilt. His similarity to the lead in the TV show Spartacus was striking. A double for the guy that had been the star of my fantasies, here in real life, waiting on our table.

Stubble in just the right amount, piercing blue eyes, tanned from the Florida sunshine;
I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Couldn’t stop imagining how easily those strong arms could pick me up, thinking about slipping my hands under his kilt, how thick his cock would be. He looked like he could ravage me.

American hospitality dictated he check back frequently, “How we doing here guys? More drinks?” those blue eyes locking with mine, making me all silly and girly, twiddling my hair. I was unable to respond with coherent sentences, resorting to giggles and puppy dog eyes. My lust was obvious, much to the amusement of my husband.

If this were a cartoon my eyes would be popping out on stalks, tongue lolling, blushing a bright red hue that started at my feet and consumed my whole body, steam pouring from my ears.

I deserved my man’s playful mocking for drooling over the hired gun. The hot piece of ass that keeps punters coming back, spending money in the bar. I was a sucker for their clever marketing ploy. But he looked like fucking Spartacus, my own personal masturbation material! I was practically swooning in my bar stool.

“We’d ruin you” my man kept his voice low; it blended into the general hubbub of the bar, meant for my ears only. Mouth agape I turned to face him, my cunt responding to that dark playful look in his eyes and the filth that had started to pour from his mouth.

“We should take you back to the hotel room and fuck you up; it’s only a block away”
Fuck. My mind flooded with images of both of them, hot and naked in our hotel room, their hands and mouths all over me, flesh on flesh. The smell of testosterone and sex.

“We could DP you, fill you right up”
I can’t believe he’s saying this.
I imagined the delicious feeling of fullness, all my pleasure sensors fired up from taking them both inside me. Double penetration, moving in synchronicity.

Spartacus“Or perhaps we’ll spit-roast you, fuck your pretty mouth”
Oh his words are so fucking hot.
I am immersed in the imagery of deep throating a rock hard cock, simultaneously fucked from behind, strong hands holding my hips, grinding.

“You’d love it, my little slut”
He’s so enjoying this, calmly watching me squirm.
I would love it, being their fucktoy, thrown around and pounded. The room filled with the sounds of three people enjoying each other. My power in fulfilling their desires.
Both of them focussed on me, wanting me, using me.

“Are you feeling a little uncomfortable now?” he smirked, knowing exactly the effect his words were having.

How could I not be? I was wet, flushed and absolutely gagging, ready for a good fuck.
I was not ready for the gorgeous gladiator-a-like to make his circuit to our table and innocently ask…..“Anything I can do for you guys?”
Oh if only he knew.

This entry was posted in Dirty Diary and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Spartacus

  1. Claire says:

    Aah! The place with the hot guys in Kilts! Why didn’t we go there? Once again a great piece…..

  2. Docdeath says:

    Fabulous writing as always petal… Sooo hot… *goes off for a cold shower*

    • Babefiend says:

      Doc! Yay, so lovely for you to come and leave a comment. Thank you.
      I thought you might like this one.
      Enjoy your shower, try to focus on getting clean! xxx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s