Fantasy Actress Roleplays

[Krishan202]

He orders a second bottle of wine like he's ordering a bottle of water. I move beyond tipsy to flat-out drunk. Everything he says is funny and charming. I find myself stroking my chest and playing with my earrings, trying to catch his eye at my femininity.I stumble my way out of the restaurant, with Roy's arm wrapped around me for stability.

"Careful, babe, I think we need to build up your tolerance."

"Yeah, not used to alcohol." I slur.

"We'll just have to do something about that. Help you grow up a little bit."

His motorcycle is parked on the dark side of the building next to the wall. Placing his hands against my hips, he leans me into the wall.

"You're a beautiful woman, Janhvi."



"Thank you." I am beaming inside.

"There are things I want to do to you. Naughty things. Things to make you feel good."

"Like what?"

"Like things I want to surprise you with. I'm going to treat you like a princess f. And then I'm going to show you how good I can make you feel. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." For once, a man who will treat me like a woman, not a College girl.

Roy leans his hips into me. I am tantalized by the feel of his erection pressing against my stomach. He reaches around and grabs my ass, pulling me into him. He brings his lips to mine, a soft but possessive kiss. I am lost in the feeling of his body pressing against mine.



He reaches up with one hand and in a swift motion like a butterfly fluttering over my shoulder unties one of the bows on my spaghetti straps. That side of my dress falls to the side, revealing too much of my breast until I catch the fabric in my hand. His smile turns crooked and he says, "The next time you wear this dress in front of me, both of those straps are going down." He leans over and kisses my shoulder, grabs my hand, and guides me toward the motorcycle.

On the ride home, I pay attention to what he said about the motorcycle putting pressure between my legs, vibrating, making me hungry for him. It is almost too much to bear. When we get home, he kisses my cheek but doesn't walk me to the door.

"Bye, babe, I had fun."



I'm still too drunk to be much of a conversationalist. "Me too."

"You free tomorrow night?"

"I get off work at 7:00."

"I'll pick up you there."

*

I'm on cloud nine and want to tell everyone, but I know I can't. I don't know how old Roy is, but I know he's too old for me. I can't concentrate in college, can't wait for work to be over, can't wait to see him.

He shows up looking delicious in a pair of blue jeans stretched out over his long legs and a forest green t-shirt that does nothing to hide his muscles.

"What are we going to do?" I'm dying to know.

"I know this nice secluded park that has lots of flowers this time of year. I thought we'd pick up some sandwiches and head there for a picnic."

Krish never thought of these romantic things. "Sounds perfect."



We take his bike to the best sub shop in town and order huge chips, and drinks. Again, it's such a small thing, but Roy picking up the tab without batting an eye makes me feel so feminine and taken care of in a way Krish never made me feel.

Roy was right: the park is beautiful, abloom with spring flowers, and absolutely deserted. There's a picnic table under a small cabana where we go for our dinner. Roy practically tosses the sandwiches aside and starts kissing me with intensity and force. His lips are unbridled, his hands unforgiving. I gasp when he takes my breast, then moan when he lays me down on the bench. My legs fall to either side of the bench, and he leans against me, his groin pressed into the V of my jeans. I can't stop my body from responding, my hips from grinding up, my hands from pulling his hips closer into me. His hand is up my shirt, caressing my breasts in a way they've never been caressed before. I can't help but compare him and the only other man I've been with, and Krish falls embarrassingly flat. Krish mauls my breasts and inflicts pain on my nipples. Roy, on the other hand, is tender and sweet, rushing blood across my chest and straight to my vagina which is yearning for him.



It occurs to me that I don't even know how old he is. "How old are you?"

"41."

41? I don't care if he's 61. This man rocks my world. We belong together.

He seems to hesitate, and I try to quell any concern. I cradle his face. "Age is a number. You and me, we fit. We can't let this go just because of a number."

"Sweetheart, I couldn't agree more."

"So you told me we were going to celebrate my 19th birthday, even though it happened before I met you."

"For your belated birthday, you let me wine you and dine you and make you feel good.

You let me give you the most beautiful, sensual birthday gift you've ever had."

The smile on my face is a mile wide. "Deal."



*