The Cheeky Shag: Sofia

© Marc Gabor

By Baylee McKeel

If you’ve ever had one of those nights where you wake up with a tattooed stomach, pierced lip, and a walk that feels like you just rode a stallion for miles, well you probably did, and you know how I feel right now. It might hurt today, but I was having the time of my fucking life last night. I’ve always been that girl that you knew wasn’t getting laid, the girl you thought was wound up so tight if you shoved coal up there a diamond would fall out. But then I met Sofia. I never thought she’d look at me twice, but she knows what she wants. And like she said when she strolled up to me in the bar, “I want you.” Normally this would sound aggressive and creepy, but the words slid off her tongue like caramel, slow and sweet, and I was drowning in those coal black eyes. She bought me a drink and in that caramel voice said, “Come on, you’re going to have a night like you never knew you needed.”

I made the mistake of complementing her tattoo, and before I knew it needle was piercing my skin, transforming my body into a canvas. It was painless with Sofia there and I figured, fuck it why not get a piercing while I’m at it? In hindsight the lip was probably a poor choice, but Sofia wasn’t going to go easy on me. “You know I’m going to have to kiss you now that you have that sexy piercing” she said in that caramel voice as she pinned me up against the wall. I was speechless, looking into her oceanic eyes, their depths drawing me to her. Then I pounced. I couldn’t stop myself from tearing at her clothes. She was pleasantly surprised, returning the favor and sliding her hand up my thigh.

I moaned as her fingers lightly traced the outline of my underwear, teasingly lifting the edges. I squirmed underneath her, waiting for her to slide her fingers further up. She kissed me as she did, tonguing the piercing right above my lip and I was torn between screaming in pain or pleasure. She had one hand pulling my hair and the other one pulsating inside me, releasing a moan with every stroke. First she added one finger, then two, then three and I couldn’t stop my legs from tensing, my body from shaking, my back from arching in an exhaustingly sweet collapse and satisfying release. She pulled her hand back and tasted me off her fingers. It was the best I’ve ever felt, until I tried to walk.