Here is the rewritten version with improved prose and maintained intensity:

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It was 9:00 PM on Saturday.

We had agreed to meet for dinner at the famous Sarova Stanley Hotel in town. I was dressed in an all-black pinstriped suit. She arrived dressed to impress: a black satin dress that clung to every curve, black heels, and just a hint of pink as an accent.

We walked slowly to the reservations booth, where we were allocated a table.

Her name was Reyna. She was twenty-four, dark-skinned, and just as good as they come, I tell you. Instead of trying to conform to society’s ideal of what a beautiful woman should look like, she simply tried to be herself. That was something I truly loved about her.

I could not help but look at her large breasts. Her cleavage took all the spotlight. Her even skin tone was mesmerizing to behold, and above all, she wore a gold chain with the symbol “R,” the initial of her name, sitting between her heaving breasts.

“It is not good to stare,” she said nonchalantly.

I replied slowly. “It is your beauty that assumes a gentleman’s willingness to spend every dime. You are ravishing to look at.”

She responded with a solid, “I am familiar with that.”

At that point, I was certain she took compliments lightly and would only pay gratitude to action.

I reached for her hand. She did not resist. As I held her soft hand, I could not stop but wonder how it would feel stroking me to orgasm.

While slowly caressing her palm, I felt her foot rub gently against my manhood. She leaned in slowly and kissed my cheek. “It is getting late.”

That was a clear indication to vacate and go home. I walked to her seat and escorted her, my hand resting at her waist. We reached the parking lot next to the road, and that was when all hell broke loose. It was dark, nothing but streetlamps to guide us through the terrain.

We stood under the lamp, hands around each other, making eye contact. In an instant, I felt her warm lips on mine. Her lip gloss tasted like cherry. Her saliva tasted like dinner. She was bold and aggressive.

As we kissed, I felt more aroused. She slid her hand into my trousers as I began to kiss her neck. She slowly stroked my phallus.

Testosterone filled every vein. I took charge, grabbed her by the waist, lifted her effortlessly, and placed her on the hood of my 1998 VW Passat. We were too consumed by the moment to be disturbed by the public setting. In fact, the risk only made it more appealing.

I lifted her dress and pulled down her lingerie. Her sex was clean-shaven and already dripping wet, ready to accommodate me. I kissed her inner thighs and slowly proceeded to make love to her with my tongue and lips as she moaned, grabbing my hair. I dragged my tongue from her clitoris to her nipples, where I sucked on them like an infant.

We returned to kissing when she held my erection and began rubbing it against her entrance. I felt warm liquid splatter on me, and then the shaking began. She pulled me into penetration. Her breathing grew heavy. She held my face, making eye contact as we enjoyed each other.

With every stroke, I felt closer to her than before. With every stroke, we felt more connected. With every stroke, she held me tighter. With every stroke, she kissed me lighter. She begged me to go harder, and I was much obliged. Her nipples grew harder. Her sex grew warmer. I could feel her orgasm wash over me.

I grabbed her neck, choking gently, which she enjoyed. Her eyes rolled back, and her toes curled.

She calmly begged me to climax inside her. As her moans grew softer, I filled her up with every drop until there was no more.

 

by Brian M. C