Mr. Cool
Bridget hadn’t planned to sit in the café in the center of the old town. The restaurant was busy and at first glance all the tables were occupied. This was hardly surprising as the tables were all in the spring sunshine and the guests were enjoying the first warming rays after the gray winter. Bridget was also heavily laden: she had a Balmain bag in her left hand and the same in her right. Overknees worth a mere 1,700 euros were hidden in the left pocket. Bridget had been putting off this purchase for some time. She wanted to prove to herself once again that she wasn’t as hopelessly at the mercy of her addiction to luxury and shopping as her dear husband Nate claimed. But once again Nate was right, Bridget was carrying the evidence of this through the city.
When Bridget drove into the city center that Saturday morning, she decided to buy these shoes and nothing else. But the saleswoman, the bitch, showed Bridget the shoulder bag that matched the boots. Another 1,200 euros. Bridget was desperate - because it wasn’t even 10 a.m. and she had already spent almost 3,000 euros. When Bridget had swallowed this bait, the sadistically grinning retail clerk conjured up the matching belt and clutch. 3,000 euros quickly became 4,500 euros and when Bridget left the boutique at 10:20 with two bags the blonde woman was overcome by a severe feeling of dizziness. Feelings of guilt and an almost erotic satisfaction over the luxury items she had purchased put Bridget in a state that consisted of a cocktail of different emotions: As mentioned before, there were feelings of guilt. This was mixed with greed for even more consumption and pride that she could afford it all. But she also felt stunned astonishment, almost horror, at her self-indulgent self-indulgence, as well as childlike joy at these wonderful articles that would sweeten her life from now on. Bridget took a deep breath. She loved the intoxicating state that this cocktail of emotions caused in her. At least she would renounce her other vices, cocktails and men today...
Then Bridget noticed that a table had become available. An older couple with their dog had stood up and the elderly gentleman offered Bridget the vacated seat with an elegant gesture. Bridget found she couldn’t turn down this kind man and sat down with relief. Her feet needed a break, Bridget told herself - which wasn’t true, since her Stuart Weizmann ankle boots fit perfectly.
Bridget decided to abandon her good intentions and ordered an Aperol. Why did drinks taste best when served with a touch of guilt? Bridget decided not to investigate the answer. Instead, she enjoyed the bitter, fruity, fresh aroma of her cocktail.
Bridget crossed her long legs and made herself comfortable in the sun. Their shades polarized the light and so the whole scene appeared much more contrasting than in reality. The blue of the sky was dark, in contrast to the mostly brightly painted buildings downtown. In the pedestrian zone there were a few trees whose delicate spring green now appeared dark and strong.
Bridget’s gaze wandered back to the café’s patrons. There were two young women in their early twenties chatting animatedly with each other. Bridget saw an overweight, middle-aged couple who had nothing more to say to each other. And a group of old gentlemen playing cards. Only now did Bridget notice the most interesting guest by far: an elegant man her age. He was wearing suit pants and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The leather shoes were sparkling clean. The well-groomed appearance was complemented by dark sunglasses and a discreet wristwatch.
Bridget’s brain suddenly activated her flirting mode without any conscious effort on her part: her right hand reached for her Balenciaga shades - for no reason at all, because they fit perfectly. Her head tilted a little to the side, the tips of her feet now pointed directly at this gentleman at the next table. Bridget slowly ran her left hand down her thigh, as if she were smoothing out her stockings. Then Bridget reached for her glass, put her lips to it with relish and took a small sip. She made eye contact at regular intervals, but the man didn’t seem interested in her.
The blonde took the gentleman’s disinterest calmly. She concentrated on enjoying the day, the sun, the drink and the relaxed ambience of the city.
“The gentleman at the next table asked me to pass on a message to you.” Bridget was snapped out of her daydreams and looked at the waiter in surprise. He kindly held his tray under her nose. There were no glasses and plates on it as usual, instead there was a neatly folded note.
“So yes!” Bridget thought triumphantly and curiously opened the sheet of paper.
“Pull your skirt up a little. You have really nice legs!” There was a cell phone number underneath the message.
Bridget grinned. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Elegantly dressed, first-class appearance, well-groomed hair and hands. And then this immoral offer...
Bridget didn’t have to think twice. She sat up a little. Just to the point where her bottom momentarily lost contact with the seat and she was able to push her skirt up. When she sat back down, she grinned cheekily at the man and picked up her phone. “Is the gentleman satisfied now?”, she typed on the keyboard. It only took a few moments for her message to reach the man at the next table’s device. He picked up his smartphone and started typing.
A little later, Bridget’s cell phone vibrated. She knew long ago that this man wouldn’t be content with just seeing a little more of her legs.
“Open the top buttons of your blouse. A little sun will certainly do your cleavage a lot of good!”
Involuntarily, Bridget’s right eyebrow twitched up a little. She looked in the man’s direction. But he was also wearing sunglasses and Bridget couldn’t detect the slightest emotion. “So you’re Mr. Cool!”, Bridget said quietly to herself. Then she opened the top two buttons of her blouse and leaned provocatively on the back of her chair. This was enough for more than generous glimpses and views of her voluptuous breasts, which were well packed in a white lace bra.
Her phone beeped: “Top notch! It would be even nicer if you took the bra off completely!”
Reading this news, Bridget’s skin began to tingle. This guy’s request was only an implied one, but it was all the more outrageous. So far her sensual play with Mr. Cool had been harmless. But now things got exciting. Because her white blouse wasn’t completely opaque. She could go to the bathroom and take off her bra. Without a bra, there was no doubt that her breasts would bounce boldly and freely towards the world. Even more frivolous was the fact that the thin material and the bright sun would result in her being almost completely exposed.
Bridget sighed. Things began to boil inside her again. What was appropriate and socially expected of her did not correspond to what she wanted and longed for. Bridget knew only too well what she wanted: she wanted to obey the stranger. Fulfill every demand. No matter how lewd and indecent the wishes he intended to convey to her would be. She wished she didn’t care what other people thought of her. Being able to indulge her fantasy and her lust – that was the only thing that mattered.
Bridget took another deep breath. Then she emptied her drink and made her way to the toilet. She would not only take off her bra, but also her stockings and thong. The man certainly didn’t object to a look between her thighs...
As Bridget made her way back to her seat, her heart was pounding with excitement. Her penchant for voyeurism was just coming into its own, as was her penchant for sexual submissiveness. This combination of voyeurism and submissiveness was an explosive mixture - because it meant that Bridget’s appearance was now extremely revealing: without a bra and with two buttons undone, her breasts bounced spectacularly in time with her steps. The pencil skirt fit perfectly. When sitting, she would have to pay a little attention to the position of her legs.
As Bridget sat down, Mr. Cool gave her a nod of approval. He typed something into his phone. “Thanks!”
“Thanks? That’s all? You can’t get away from me like that!” thought Bridget. She reached for her phone. “You pay for the drinks. Then follow me – ten steps away!” It was time to turn the tables. Let’s see if Mr. Cool was as cool as he pretended. He just turned his gaze to Bridget. Bridget returned the man’s attention by lasciviously spreading her legs. The corner of the man’s mouth twitched briefly, then he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Bridget realized with satisfaction that her flirtation had now reached the limits of his comfort zone. She closed her thighs demurely again.
After the man read the message, he waved the waiter over. When he settled the bill, Bridget grabbed her bags and stood up. She guided her impulsive steps across the square, passed the cathedral and turned onto a busy commercial street. She felt people’s stares and enjoyed the attention she attracted. And she heard the footsteps of the man following her.
Bridget walked past a few boutiques and bars, then turned into a less frequented side street. Her heart began to pound again because a voice had spoken within her that vehemently suggested that she be even more revealing. This voice had a powerful advocate: it was her pleasure cleft, which was already well supplied with blood and was becoming increasingly moist. She had developed an appetite for a tight, powerful and persistent cock.
Without further ado, Bridget stopped. She made sure no one but Mr. Cool was in sight. Then she turned to her pursuer and pushed up her skirt. Bridget felt a cool breeze between her thighs and saw a man biting his lip in excitement. Then she pushed the lapels of the gaping blouse aside with her hands and presented her breasts to the man who was slowly losing control. With delight, Bridget squeezed her boobs together, forming a deep gap. A gap that would rival any erection in the world...
All this only lasted a few seconds, then Bridget stowed away her feminine charms, turned around and marched on. She headed for the art museum. It was Saturday. Neither pupils nor students would be there, otherwise hardly anyone was interested in the abstract art that was on display here. Surely there were one or two lonely corners...
After a few steps, Bridget realized that her excitement had increased further. She had the feeling that the man’s footsteps sounded different now. More energetic and determined. He was also getting closer and closer to her. Bridget felt like a prey animal about to be killed by an energetic hunter. Bridget prayed to heaven that this man had the courage to conquer her without restrictions.
Before Bridget felt the man take her hand, she noticed his aftershave: it was an elegant, not too harsh scent that enjoyed Bridget’s undivided attention for a split second.
The man pushed Bridget into an inconspicuous bar. It was closed at this time of day. Only one cleaner was present; she carefully mopped the floor. Mr. Cool pushed Bridget in front of him towards the bar. “Come back in an hour!”, Mr. Cool told the cleaning lady and pressed a large euro bill into her hand. The woman beamed and ran away.
“On the stool!”, Bridget heard the man say. Obediently, her heart racing, Bridget climbed onto the high seat, her skirt riding up.
“Legs apart!”, demanded Mr. Cool. Bridget had long since left all inhibiting thoughts behind her and obediently followed the man’s instructions. Not only did she spread her thighs, she leaned back invitingly, her arms resting on the bar counter. Bridget tilted her head back expectantly and closed her eyes. The man had kneeled between her legs and began to explore her wet womb with his tongue.
A little later Bridget climbed off the bar stool, highly aroused and ready for the next level of pleasure. The man had instructed her to lean on the counter, straddle her legs and present her bottom to him. If she could get a big cock now, the world would be perfect for Bridget. The next moment, a first-class luxury penis pressed gently but firmly into her crack. With a swampy sound, Bridget took in the pulsating beauty. The woman’s sexual expectations were released in the form of a long sigh. Mr. Cool began to work her greedily. Bridget briefly looked lustfully over her right shoulder to view the copulating man. Bridget liked what she saw. She closed her eyes again, relieved. Overknee boots, bag, wallet and belt as well as the Aperol passed before her mind’s eye; she had a powerful cock thrusting between her legs.
“My resolutions!?”, Bridget thought. Then her consciousness wandered back into her eagerly receiving womb...
