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I’m in the car. On my way to IKEA. There’s pretty bad traffic. I feel a gaze on me. I turn to my right and suddenly there is a guy on a motorcycle, looking straight at me. He’s hot. We make eye contact and I awkwardly grin. He waves to me, smiling. I wave back. Someone behind him honks and I realize that he was so focused on me that he totally forgot to continue driving forward. I almost came on the spot.
· —————— · ꕥ · —————— ·
I’m walking next to the blinding colorful ikea light section. I usually always take a stroll through that area, but not today. I’m deeply engulfed in thought. Somewhere far away in my mind palace, daydreaming and overthinking.
I came here to pick out a flower pot for a cute lavender plant that I’m planning to give my friend on her birthday. I still haven't decided on the shape, let alone the color of the pot. I was pretty preoccupied with that. She put so much effort into my gift last year. At first, I really appreciated that. Kinda cried a little. But now I’m just frustrated. Why would she set such a high standard? Is a flower and a bar of candy really going to cut it? In the car, that was all I could think about. Came here in hopes of spontaneously walking past some section that had gift-potential and picking something to give besides the flower.
But that's not what I’m thinking about anymore.
Don't get it wrong. I am deeply engulfed in thought. But not flower-pot-thoughts. They’re rather riding-thoughts. Specifically a motorcycle rider. More specifically, me riding a motorcycle rider. Even more specifically, that rider I saw in the traffic an hour ago. And those thoughts don't really want to disappear.
I don't worry about where I’m going. This Ikea is large and I’ve been mindlessly strolling around for half an hour, occasionally stopping to look at silk pillowcases and colorful cups in the kids section. It’s not rare for me to be outside, have conversations, walk around, and interact with my environment despite being completely mentally occupied. It's mostly just me talking to myself. Sometimes my dreaminess comes across as something concerning. Right now is a good example for that.
I was busy. Not, really. But it felt like I had been busy. That's why I was unpleasantly surprised to hear a rehearsed sounding customer service voice behind me.
“Do you need help finding something ma’am?”
I turn around, facing the woman in uniform. My annoyance fades away, instead being replaced by compassion. Maybe I should just let her help me. I have to leave eventually anyway. I answer, but somehow sound a little too unsure for my own comfort.
“Yes…”
My gaze nervously wanders around until it fixates on the mint green flower pot in my hand. A small lightbulb sparks up and I grip the pot tighter, lifting it up.
“Do you have this in pastel purple? Like lavender for example”
Her eyes light up and I suddenly get the feeling that she also had a lightbulb moment just now.
“Yes, we actually do! It must be somewhere in that storage hall over there. Just not really sure where exactly. I can take a look for you!”
She begins walking towards a slightly hidden black door. I follow her while she rambles.
“We haven't had the chance to get them out yet. Sorry! It’s a pretty busy time for us, almost Christmas! Yaay! Well, not really, but you get the gist. Good that you asked though. I needed a reason to set them up anyway. Would've totally forgotten otherwise”
I stop while she’s almost behind the door already.
“I’ll get you that flower pot as quickly as I can! Might take a while though. No electricity hereee!”
Giggling awkwardly, she hurries away leaving the door open. I had the time to lean into the doorframe and yell out one last ›Take your time!‹ before she disappeared. My voice echoes. For the fact that she seems so anxious all the time, she sure is brave for just walking into that frighteningly dark hall.
Standing there, I take a moment to stare into the abyss.
There are clear outlines of metal shelves and cardboard boxes in the distance, neatly organized and categorized. I wouldn't have seen them if the door were closed. I knew this place was large, but how far does this hall go?
I suddenly get an urge to walk inside.
It might be a bad idea. No, it definitely is a bad idea. Still, it's not necessarily wrong if nobody ever finds out about it. Right?
Taking one big step forward, I close the door behind me, sighing as quietly as possible when it makes a horribly loud clicking noise. I wait a moment, trying to see whether or not anybody heard and then immediately begin sneaking toward the opposite direction of which the girl went.
For the fact that I’m doing something forbidden, and for no reason at all too, I’m fairly calm. Maybe it's because my mind is occupied with something (someone) else again. But honestly I can't stop thinking about him. His smile was so stupid. So unbelievably stupid and adorable. He looked clumsy and nerdy and kind. But those muscles were mind blowing—
A hand grips into your shoulder and your entire soul jumps out of you for a second, before you're pushed into a corner. A figure is towering above you, clearly a man.
“Wh—”
He sets a finger on your lips, shushing you quietly. Your unadjusted eyes run along the outlines of his body as you consciously take note of how his hands are still lingering on your body. He leans forward and mumbles something barely coherent into your ear.
“She gon’ hear us”
His fingers lightly trail down your arms and suddenly you understand what this is doing to be.
“I know you remember me”
Finding their way to your waist belt, he tugs you forward. He kisses you once on your neck. You instinctively try to move backwards, but instead trap yourself even more than before. Onehandedly, he begins undoing the button of your pants. You take a sharp breath.
“Quit the squirming, we’ll get in trouble”
You're barely connecting the dots, your understanding of the situation being nothing beyond a faint gut feeling. The dizziness in your body has your head spinning as quick as your stomach. What's even worse, is that despite knowing that a stranger has you pinned to a wall, is slowly pulling down your pants, and is probably planning on fucking you in an Ikea storage room… you aren't that opposed to this whole thing.
Your pants are crumpled at your ankles by now, slight tension filling the air. By now, your entire body feels like tickling static and you can't make out whether the coil in your stomach means you're nervous or genuinely excited about this.
Out of the blue he drops down, letting go of your body and you, almost like a ragdoll, feel your legs buckle. You would've fallen and bruised your knees, if it weren't for the head between your thighs, suddenly pushing you back against the concrete wall. His mouth was pressed tightly against your clothed pussy and you shuddered so hard that your entire body was covered in goosebumps in the matter of a second. He leans back a bit and you almost miss the contact.
“What are you doing?” You ask, chest heaving.
Not bothering to even answer, his fingertip softly pokes into your slit. You barely manage to suppress your whimper, before he reaches underneath your panties, pushing them to the side. His hot breath hits you before the cool air does and your legs begin feeling weak once again. There's silence besides your heavy breathing, until he delves in.
That's when you silently cry out. He hastily licks along the most sensitive parts of your body, not caring whether you're shaking or gasping. Your hand entangles itself into his soft hair, tugging and pulling, desperately trying to get him to slow down with his abuse. He instead interprets your attempts at communication as praise, leaning into your pelvis, undoing you with his tongue as tears form in your eyes. Slowly, you're sliding down the wall, until you're seated on the cold floor, your legs on his shoulders. Sucking along your pussy, he takes turns grazing your clit with his teeth and circling around it with his tongue, until he ultimately always decides that he prefers licking up your wetness.
Clink.
“Hello?”
…
“Anyone here?”
You're frozen in place, struggling to silence your heaving. He’s just as tense as you are, any physical contact you felt had been broken by now, except for his hot breath still settling between your legs. The coil in your stomach never stops turning and twisting.
“Hm, I could’ve sworn…”
You hear her mumble something. Then you hear footsteps. You want nothing more than to just pull your pants back up and sprint like your existence, or rather the existence of any bit of dignity you have left, is at play. And you almost do it.
Until you see her opening the door from which you came in, walking through into the white Ikea lights, and finally closing the door behind her. That would've been the part in which you took a big sigh of relief. Instead your gasp is pulled into a long loud moan, when he picks right back up where he left off, fucking you with his tongue. It doesn't take long until you're out of breath, mewls and moans spilling out of you while he rhythmically abuses your cunt. Your hand runs through his hair again, softly tugging.
“Slo— slow down”
With every movement, your grip tightens. The cries pouring out of your mouth are becoming more difficult to control by the second. It's when he pushes your knees back, simultaneously slithering further into your pussy than you ever thought was possible, you throw your head back and pathetically sob, arching your back and seeing stars. You throb around him as your entire body spasms, your legs shake and a tear or two fall down your cheeks as he opens his mouth wide for you to cum onto his tongue. Rolling your hips desperately along to him, you chase out the high, your ever intensifying grip on his scalp having him groan into your cunt. Fireworks explode inside you and every bit of contact feels like an electric spark. Using his thumb he hurriedly circles your clit, pushing that moment of ecstasy beyond what you can take.
· —————— · ꕥ · —————— ·
He leaves trails of kisses along your pussy and thighs, allowing you to slowly transition out of your high. The slightly tickling feeling of it wakes you up from your half-passed-out state. By now you're a bit sweaty, a medium amount of horny, and an extreme amount of messed up.
Reaching out your hand, you try to feel your way through the black abyss, cupping his heated wet face in both of your hands. He gladly accepts the gesture, leaning in until he’s on top of you.
“You alright?”
His voice is raspy and breathy. You nod, still panting slightly, trusting that his eyes are adjusted enough to your silhouette and understand. He takes a deep breath and your hands travel down to his still heaving chest. His heartbeat speeds up and you get a feeling that he doesn't want this to be done either.
“Think you can ride later?”
“Later?”
“Uh-huh… We can do it on my motorcycle”