Perfectly Sinful

P U R S U I N G

C H A P T E R   O N E 

N I C H O L A S 

If there was one thing I'd learnt in life, it's that women liked to travel in packs, and for men like me, it made the odds of finding a woman to take home that much easier. There were different types of women that one could come across in a club and it was important to appreciate that each woman was different and no single approach would help you reach that end-goal between her thighs. This was why I triumphed over many in the game of scoring quality snatch.

I took a large sip of my brandy and raked my gaze around the room before it fell on a group of three women seated in the corner.

Observe.

See that one there in the centre, waving for the server's attention and giving the men looking in her direction sultry winks and giggles. She's what's known as the 'Party Girl'. She's likely the one who planned the entire evening out, dragging each of her friends to come with her so she could have a good time. She frequents clubs often and is used to the environment - enjoys it, thrives off it. It makes her feel sexy, definitely a viable option.

I moved my gaze to the one beside her, she was somewhat more on the reserved side in comparison to her friend..then again, loud as she was, they all appeared pretty fucking reserved. Notice how she keeps checking her phone and typing furiously and regularly. That's 'The Girlfriend'. The one whose boyfriend is disgruntled about her going out and is checking up on her every few minutes. Lads, take it from me. Don't be that insecure pussy who checks on his girlfriend every second while she's out. It's embarrassing.

Next, there's 'The Wallflower'. She doesn't look comfortable at all, in fact you might catch her glancing at her phone every now and then checking the time - waiting for an appropriate moment to call it a night. Now the wallflower is fuckable, but you need to be on your A-game for these types. They're likely the most sober ones of the group and potentially pretty shy - the kind to ruin a good moment by suggesting that you could be a serial killer. Great way to kill a hard-on by the way ladies.

I moved onto the last. She looked fun, but nowhere near on the same level as the party girl. She was dressed in a dark green midi dress, it fell just above her knees and covered her breasts completely, still it highlighted her lovely hourglass figure. She was pulling out her compact mirror every few seconds and checking the state of her lipstick, fixing her hair while looking around the room every so often. See the way she doesn't pay her friends any mind? Instead, she readjusts herself, hoping to get noticed by a handsome stranger. That's 'The Future Girlfriend', she isn't dressed as whorishly because she doesn't want a fling, but she's not looking like a nun because she's smart enough to know that no man in an environment like this would ever approach her if she did. Ladies, if I may, the concept of finding the future 'love of your life' in a club or a bar is something that exists only in romantic-comedies. Leave it there, where it belongs. I finished my drink with one large swig, deciding I would work the 'Party Girl'.

However, a laugh on the opposite end of the bar draws my gaze away from the collective group. The laugh seemed to pierce through the loud music and the hoard of bodies pushed up and grinding against one another on the dance floor. I followed the sound to spot a group of three women sitting together clinking glasses of champagne. My eyes were instantly drawn to the woman in the centre. She could have graced any billboard or magazine cover, but she was better than those two dimensional photoshopped models. Her hair was jet black, it looked as if it had the texture of silk. My mind, the filthy perverse organ that it was imagined wrapping my fist in its delightful softness as I fucked the magnificent creature from behind. She was wearing a skin-tight white dress that hugged every delightful curve of her petite frame. The dress had a v-neck that left very little to the imagination. Her mouth is full and pouty, with red stained lips begging to be devoured. Her eyes, Holy mother of God, were undeniably sexy. They had a feline look to them, they were dark brown almost black and I found myself imagining them staring up at me as her pretty little lips wrap around my cock. Word of advice ladies, nothing makes a blowjob better than eye-contact. Trust me. The thought has my cock tightening with anticipation and desire. I'd planned on engaging in only one activity for the remainder of my night and I'd decided that the vision in front of me was the lucky lady that would have the pleasure of engaging in it with me.