Women In Control by JT Holland

certainly didn’t feel real comfortable right
now.
    But before he could settle on a course of
action, Whitney took matters into her own hands. She filled the
shot glasses, then grabbed the nearest one and held it up for a
toast. Scott grabbed the other one and clinked it against hers.
    “ Bottoms up,” Whitney said,
effortlessly shooting the Jack.
    Scott did the same, grimacing a bit as it
went down.
    Whitney laughed. “Are you all right?” she
said, grabbing the bottle and filling the glasses up once again as
she talked.
    “ Yeah.”
    “ You sure? It didn’t look
like Jack treated you all that nicely.”
    “ I’ll be fine,” Scott said.
And to prove it, he grabbed the glass and threw another shot down,
grimacing only slightly this time.
    “ Not bad,” Whitney said.
She shot her glass and started filling them up yet again. Her eyes
had a psychotic little tilt to them. Scott wasn’t sure if the
butterflies in his stomach were due to excitement or fear. Or
perhaps both.
    Oh well, he thought, nothing a
few more shots couldn’t cure.
     
    #
     
    Six shots later and Scott was starting to
feel the effects of the Jack. Nothing too serious yet, but he knew
from experience that it took a little while for shots to fully kick
in. Within a few minutes he would undoubtedly be buzzing hard, if
not outright drunk.
    Whitney was feeling it too. He could see it
in her eyes, could smell it on her breath, could taste it on her
lips when she suddenly stepped towards him and clamped them onto
his. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he replied in kind, all
the while trying to keep from thinking too much about what was
going on.
    Just go with the
flow, he told himself. And he did,
following Whitney’s lead on everything, from the rapidly increasing
intensity of their kissing, to touching, to groping each other. He
was just starting to wonder if he should take the lead into the
next phase when Whitney pulled back, grabbed the bottle of Jack,
and took a swig straight from the bottle.
    “ So what do you say, Scott?
Do you think you can give me what I need?” she said, handing the
bottle over to him.
    “ That depends on what it
is.”
    “ I need to get
fucked.”
    Scott took a drink. “I think I can help you
out with that.”
    “ You think you can?” she
said. “Or you can.”
    “ I can.”
    “ I’m not talking about
making love, or having sex, or any weak shit like that,” Whitney
said. “I’m talking about getting fucked. Hard. Aggressive, rough
sex. Can you handle that?”
    “ Yeah.”
    “ Are you sure? It may get
pretty crazy.”
    Scott took another swig of the Jack, then
said, “Positive.” And he almost believed it.
    Smiling, Whitney said, “Great. Then hold on
tight.” She grabbed the bottle out of Scott’s hand and took one
more swig, then set the bottle on the counter and dropped to her
knees, right there in the kitchen.
    “ Whoa,” Scott said. “Wait a
second—”
    “ It’s too late now,”
Whitney said as she yanked his jeans open and pulled them and his
boxers down to his knees without any hint of gentleness. Scott’s
cock was already hard; it had been since they’d started screwing
around. “I tried to warn you,” she said. “Now it’s too
late.”
    Scott started to say something but Whitney
wrapped her lips around his cock and took the whole thing in her
mouth, shutting him up instantly except for the soft, wordless sigh
that came from his mouth.
    Whitney held her position—deepthroating
Scott’s cock, hands gripping his ass, nose touching his stomach—for
a full 5 seconds before backing off to catch her breath. One of her
hands went to the base of his shaft and grabbed on tight while the
other cupped his balls. She spit on his cock and started
aggressively jerking him off.
    Looking up at him, she said “You like that?
You like it when I take your cock down my throat? When I swallow
the whole fucking thing?”
    Scott nodded, afraid of what his voice would
sound like if he tried to talk.