Page 3 of Rim Job

“Fuck, he’s beautiful.”

He laughs for a moment before he replies, “Thank you.”

“Ohhhh, your fake English accent is much better than mine. Are you Superman’s twin?”

“The accent isn’t fake, my love, and last I checked, I am not Superman’s twin.” He winks one of those beautiful blue eyes at me and shows me a million-dollar smile that holds all sorts of promises I’d like him to deliver on.

“Your hotness is overwhelming me. I need a drink,” I turn my head, fanning myself with my hand and quietly add, “or sex.”

Definitely sex.

“I’d be happy to help you with both,” his deep voice whispers in my ear, scattering chills across my overheated flesh.

Holy fuck.

Suddenly, it’s really hot in here.

“What’s your poison?”

“Um, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

From the smell of alcohol on his breath, it’s stout.

Poker chips fly away from my little stack like they have wings. I’m pretty sure I’m losing. I don’t know shit about poker, so that could be why. The waitress makes her way over and flirts with Superman like a thirsty bitch in heat. I don’t care. I’m not jealous when he says something to her, and she laughs, her hand landing on his shoulder so she can press her big tits in closer to his face.

Nope.

Not jealous at all.

I look down at my own cleavage and find a mini pretzel nestled in there.

That’s where that went.

I start to fish it out, and of course, the thirsty-ass waitress chooses this moment to talk to me.

“Can I get you something?”

I raise my head, hand still crammed into my boobs. “I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks.” I crook my head in Superman’s direction.

Thirsty-ass waitress scrunches her nose in disgust at me before she walks off to get our drinks.

“Do you need some help with that, sweetheart?”

Superman eyes my hand wiggling around in between my boobs. His lecherous smile sends my heart racing, and just as I start to tell him,fuck,yes, he can help me, he slips his hand in my top.

His big fingers twine with mine briefly before he snags the boob pretzel and pops it in his mouth.

“Delicious.”

He raises one sinister dark eyebrow, turns, and snags his drink before he tosses some chips down on the table. I sit with my mouth agape and my panties growing wet.

Holy shit.

Did Superman just feel me up?

Normally, I'm sure I'd be pretty pissed about that move, but his sexiness, coupled with the amount of booze I've consumed, convince me it wasn't sleazy. In fact, it was damn hot. I like a dirty, dirty Superman. In fact, I'm going to find some other stuff to shove down in the girls. I'll gladly be his titty platter.

“Ev, I need to peeeeee. Help me find the bathroom in this big-ass place,” Jen says, which finally pulls my attention away from Superman as he chews on my boob pretzel. Jen stands and crosses her legs as she halfway does a public pee-pee dance.

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