Untitled Exploration
I hated this feeling. I can can tell exactly where he is standing: over to the side and back a bit. Around the corner of the bar and moving into the hallway. To the bathrooms? Sigh. I am feeling, well, heh, warmed up.
Mmm. If I take a deep breath [BJ breaths in], I can feel the my top tighten against my breasts. As there is no bra tonight, I can feel my nipples rub across the knit fabric. A thick yarn. Rub, rub. My legs too; movement, or squeezing is good. There is that slippery sensation and a bit of dampness on my panties. Arrgh!
What would he be like? I’d love to run my hands through his hair; to feel his hair tickling my fingers. To trace a finger down his chest. What would the hair be like on his legs? Soft and fuzzy like some forest animal? Or strong, tickling my hands as they rubbed his inner thighs? To kiss his neck. He has a beautiful neck. I love to kiss necks; a sloppy sucking kind of a kiss. His ears too. Then to move down to his chest. Maybe nibble a nipple? Wonder what he likes. Across his stomach, which I imagine as a washboard. And then, oh! I should stop thinking like this! Dam it, I’m married!
I open my eyes. Hey — where did Jamie go? Oh, there out slithering with that guy she met on the dance floor. They look like they are having fun. If anything Jamie says is true, boy is he in for a treat tonight! Wish someone would do that sort of thing to me!
Wait. Here he comes again. I can feel that tugging in between my legs. I try to squeeze it way, but it is still there. And stronger. It must be really wet. Mmmm. Oh! He’s coming closer. Checking me out. Ah yes, the usual male scan. Rests a while on my breasts — I push them out and feel my sweater rub across my nipples. Wonder if he saw the expression on my face. Moves down to my legs. I’m wearing a short mini-skirt so he should get an eyeful.
Yikes! Eye contact. I’m locked. I can feel a flood of heat into my face. Good thing the strobe lights, etc. don’t show anything. He looks around at the dance floor. At Jamie. Why did he do that? Back at me. Oh my! He’s coming over. He’s asking me to dance!
It’s one of Madonna’s songs: Vogue. My god, look at that body move. I can already see it undressed. To wrap his legs around me, to feel him inside me. Geez! I haven’t though of anything like this since college! What would Rip say? Furious. I can imagine the yelling match. Tough. If he’s off on a business trip, well, I’m going to have some fun. And his hands.
I can imagine them grabbing me. They are large meaty ones. That of a construction worker, perhaps. On my breasts, grabbing, pulling, gently twisting. A caressing hand down from my neck across one of my breasts and down a leg. Back up the inside of a leg and gently across the hair covering my sex. Just a tease. I like to be teased a little. If I didn’t have panties on, there might well be a wet stain on my skirt!
What’s he watching. My breasts. I don’t even know this guy. But I guess that is what is so exciting. If I did I’d probably never think twice. Look at him — he’s staring. Why does that have to be part of the ritual? I could flaunt them, I suppose. I don’t have much, but I’m fit and trim. Would he like that? Would I like that?
I try putting a little more shoulder in it. Looking around, it’s not hard to find a roll model. Over there is a rather full bodied blond. Look at the size of those things. She’s drenched in sweat — oh, so am I. How about that sweat after lovemaking. To run my hand across his chest. Hair all damp. That sex smell rising from between our bodies. Smell of the body after a climax changes. I love taking deep breaths after lovemaking with Rip. Makes my whole body tingle. Wonder what other women smell like. Humph! Wonder what she smells like! She dips her shoulder, and pushes our her chest, pulls the other back. Wow! That is quite a move. Let me try.
He’s looking at my face again. I can feel it. That desire thing. He need only communicate it with me. I can feel the music beating. No way to talk. The bass drum is in my lungs. It makes my sweater vibrate. It even makes my box humm. box!? I would never say that.
He’s got a bulge in his pants. Looks bit bigger than average. It’s like a snake, slowly uncoiling. With each gyration, it moves up a bit more. mmm i would like to hold that… To gently cress it. Blow my hot breath across it. Run my hands back past his balls, grab his butt and pull it towards my face. Grrrr! I want this guy, whoever he is. I don’t care. I don’t care about Rip, I don’t care about Jamie getting a ride home, I don’t even care about AIDS right now.
His home is bare. He must go to the club often as he lives only two blocks away. The idea of the many others pleasured by him excites me. His experienced fingers, mouth, the way he will rub against my body. Wait, here he comes … with a drink.
It’s a thick, sticky liquid. Red. Tastes vaguely of cherry or strawberry. It coats the back of my throat, and slides the rest of the way to my stomach were it becomes a hot little ball. The ball slowly expands, relaxing me. I feel like I could just sit down and let this guy do whatever he wants to me. There’s a bean bag chair. Pow. It’s warm.
No, don’t say anything. How can I make him shut up! I spill my drink all over my sweater. Ruined. He jumps up. I feel the liquid seep through the cotton. It is cool against my hot sweaty skin. It trickles down to my left nipple. I can feel it around the nipple. There is more there. It seems to be collecting, a weights, tugging. And it feels good. I close my eyes, in my own world. Finally, it drips off my nipple onto my stomach.
My nipples are rock-hard. Every breath is one of pleasure. I don’t want to even take my top off as they won’t have anything to rub against. Tough. I slide it over. I rub my hands across my chest, the sticky drink spreading. I move across my stomach, both hands up and cup my breasts. I gently draw circles around the nipples, stretch them a little. My body is humming. I push inwards on my nipples, and they slip sideways because of the drink. The sunrise of the slip sends a shock through my body. Shiver.
I hear him moving but I don’t open my eyes. I move my hands across the top of my breasts and down again, being sure to squeeze my nipple on the way down. Across my stomach where that hot drink has made me feel so languid. Down across my hips sliding the skirt and panties around my ankles. I grab what is left of my drink and pour it on my stomach.
It trickles down the insides of my legs onto his bean bag. I can feel it dripping across my lips. They must be touched. I move my hands down across my thighs, and up towards my sex. I just touch the lips gently, a tease. With the left hand I play with my right breast. A gentle pinch. A push. A trace. Or a squeeze. With my other hand I use a finger to trace my inner thigh to my sex. I spread my legs wide, and rub my finger up and down, gently across the opening.
I can feel the urgency building between my legs. The guy has walked out of the room now. I really don’t care, I am very involved in myself. I rub a little faster, and that old familiar feeling starts to build. My hips start to move out of my control. My breath is pounding.
My sex has a life of its own. It thrusts upwards, as if it wished to be filled. Drops back unattended to. My fingers rub faster, what little can go in, does. It thrusts forward again, pushing hard against my hand. I can feel it crystalizing. This is going to be an intense one. I can’t remember my name, but I do notice that I’m moaning. The moans are rapidly becoming low pitched squeals. Here it is, its ohhh. I can’t see think. My whole brain is vibrating. I can’t move my hand to keep it going! It’s going to crash, no! Don’t leave!
Ahh. Something *very* cold has entered me. oh. My orgasm has passed. But, I still can’t stop my hips moving. My breath is still short and fast. He must be putting something inside me. Not him. Too cold. Its temperature difference is so much that I can feel it move inside. Right at the entrance. He is moving it back and forth just a little. But very fast. I can feel my hips thrusting to get it in faster.
Owww. This is no fair. It’s building, but unless he goes deeper. mm there, he did it once. No! He is back on the edge. Damn it. Urg. Deeper. He shoves in again — very deep. My whole body expands to accept it. I try and squeeze down to keep it from leaving. I can’t! It’s gone again. But I’m worse. I must be screaming. In! Again! Now! I’m on the edge, damn it, can’t you see that! He is just teasing me there on the outside. Grr. It’s enough to keep me on the edge, but not put me over. Again! IN! Yes! oh! I can feel it, the world shifts, my brain seems to crystalize. But it’s gone again! I’m on the edge. I can’t stand it. In. Wait, it is. But so slowly this time. Its going to take hours to get in there. Faster. My hips are moving faster than light, but he isn’t letting this cold beast enter faster. I feel a hand push down on my chest to hold me still. Now. Ahh… It is all the way in. I can handle this. And out. Oh my, I’m exploding. My body is convulsing. I doubt I’m saying anything because I can’t breath. I feel my hands grabbing something soft with all their might. I hope it’s not him. My legs feel locked. My back is arching. Sun-bombs are exploding in my head. Every nerve ending is on fire. A loud vibrating at the base of my skull. My head is twisting from side to side, gasping for air. This cold thing is going faster and faster.
I’m floating. I don’t think I could move if I wished. On water. My hands are still clenched! Oh, it is just the bean bag. I open my eyes. There he is, standing before me. On the floor to my side is a rather large carrot! My god! In me? His feet are spread and he — hey! he has poured the drink across his chest and his cock.
Both hands are gently stroking it. It is a proud thing, standing there. A separate person, as my sex was a few minutes ago. It is hard. So hard. I can see the veins. His hand is gently moving up and down. Slowly. Each time he passes the head he shivers. It seems to start at the base of his back and travel upwards. Some times his head snaps back and a gasp escapes his mouth. He pumping faster now, but still those long careful strokes. Wait! He is slowing. I’m beginning to feel myself again: this is a very hot scene.
Goodness. Look at how hard he is. I have never really looked at anyone’s cock. Slowly in, slowly out of the top of his hand. The head, like some sort of malformed WWII helmet. The shaft. Blue steel it’s been called. But it isn’t smooth. Full of bumps. And it isn’t straight. He is curved to the left a little. God, he would feel good inside.
He is just getting bigger too. It seems like every shiver he becomes a bigger, stiffer. Me too. Hey! My hand has wondered, on its own, down between my legs and is starting up again! No way I’m going to miss his show!
He let go. His cock is hanging in mid air, tight as a drum. A touch of fluid dribbles out the top. Is he coming? No, everything relaxes. He gently pumps again. I can see everything. Sitting looking up I can see the complete underside of his cock and his balls. Look at that, he does it again. He face has gone rigid. He must be going to the edge of an orgasm…. and stopping! I would never have enough control to do that!
He suddenly stiffens again. He hand clenching and unclenching at his side. He relaxes, and starts again. Again, he peaks, but doesn’t go all the way. This is getting too much for me. I want him inside me, or in my mouth. I start to lean forward, withdrawing my hand from myself. But he falls to his knees, and onto his back. His pelvis heaves as the air, just as mine did. In out in out in out! I want him. I carefully straddle him, and bend down so that his cock and hand are about two inches from my sex. It happens. With a mighty grown he thrusts up. His hot liquid shoots out. The first comes down on his chest. The second over my but. I lean down on him.
Our chests touch. My breasts running over his pecs. His cum and my spilled drink create a slippery sensation, not unlike that of after-sex-sweat.
The smell is delicious, but the tension is gone, for now. He lets out a sigh and I relax onto on him. We lie there for a few minutes. A light rain has started outside; he opens a large window letting the sounds of it and the city in. Standing at the window I can feel a large truck rumble by as he gently traces his hand down my back and cups one of my cheeks. I can feel his breath on my back and he kneels down, his hands start at the bottom of my calves and move up — just a finger on each leg. Getting closer. I move my rear out a little, trying to bring more of his hand onto my leg. Just a finger. Up and up. I am very conscious of my sex. It is still warm, both our cum’s mixed there. His fingers hit the wetness and move up. The touch my lips, as my hands had a few minutes before.
Fingers suddenly gone and I let out a sigh. His strong hands turn me around and sit me on the window sill. Another truck goes by — wonder if they can see me. Tough. Strong hands kneading my thighs. He is kneeling before me. I watch his mouth. It is disconnected from the rest of his body. Just the lips. Not big. And a tongue between them. I can see it dart out, touching my nipples. Lightly. Almost so light I can’ t feel it, but the sight is very erotic.
His hand slides up from my thigh. Over my shoulders. One goes around my left breast — squeezing. Pinching. A combination of pain and pleasure. He squeezes the nipple and pushes it out. He breaths his hot breath across. My nipples are so hard it is almost painful. They hunger for his mouth for his teeth. But is not to be. His hands go up to my shoulders and move down again. Slowly. Across the top of my breasts. I push my chest out forcing him to rub my nipples, to pinch them, to pull them. He is to quick. Sex shouldn’t be a fight!
Yet, my hands stay at my sides. Strange rules we play by. I could reach up and touch myself, or force him to touch me. His hot mouth is hovering over my breast again. I can feel the heat as he breaths out, the cool air as he breaths in. My nipples ache. He opens his mouth and slowly surrounds my nipple. I can see everything. His eyes are watching my face as he does this. I can feel the hot circle of his mouth around my nipple — but, dammit!, he still isn’t touching it. The tension … He pushes, squishing my breast against my rib cage, carefully avoiding my releasing me and touching my nipple. Suddenly, I can feel his hot tongue. It is tracing around the edge, spirals getting closer to the center. I can’t see the tongue, but it is burning a path of white heat. Closer and closer. My upper body stretches, my back arching, pushing towards him. I want him to grab the nipple and pull! Closer and closer and then, ahhh. A shiver and my head snaps forward. A tingling that rushes through my body. My sex is drenched, I can feel a drip making its way down my thigh, on to his leg.
He smiles and wipes it with his hands. Looking deep into my eyes, he lifts his hands to his mouth and carefully licks me off his hand. His tongue darts between and around his fingers. Will it soon dart in and between me? The anticipation is almost better than the real thing!
He pulls on a nipple with his fingers — trapping it, rolling it. They are still aching to be touched, but no longer the part of my body yelling loudest. I want his lips between my legs. I want that tongue to slip back and forth over my clitoris. I want that mouth to suck hard on my clitoris.
As if reading my mind (as any good man should!) he bends lower, scraping his chin across the top of my leg. I can feel the hot breath coming from that mouth. On my inner thighs. I open my legs as wide as I can. Sitting on the window sill, I think this is a crazy position, but it only bothers me for a second.
He has his mouth on my thigh! Just behind the knee. A gentle, wet, sucking kiss. The kind I like to place on necks. The sloppy kiss is moving up. I can smell my sex, I can feel its heat. It isn’t really a part of me, but something on its own. It has its own mind, its own body, and its own needs. And it needs… My hips rotate up to give him a better angle. But he passes my sex by and that wet kiss moves down my other leg. A hands suddenly brushes by my sex, nudging the flap of skin touching my clitoris. A soft moan, and my hips shake in pleasure. But no, it doesn’t come back.
Instead, the kiss moves back towards my sex. This time, it stops, and spends time right next to my lips. I can feel it against the outer lips, moving up and down. I can feel the hot, wet tongue. I know he must be getting intoxicated by the smell. Good. Closer he moves.
He must touch me. I try and move my hips closer to me. I moves back. He seems lost in his own world, the kiss the focus of it. The kiss stops. His mouth, with his tongue sticking out, is directly in front of my sex lips. I have my head bent over, watching ever move. I will that tongue closer, into me. But it doesn’t work. I can feel the moisture collecting on the edge of my lips. I’m so hot.
Then he does it. Rather anti-climatic, actually. A quick lick. Well… I may not have felt that much, but my sex did. It sends crazy messages to my hips as they vibrate under his touch. “More, More” they scream. Again. This time, the shivers are exquisite. I don’t know how much more I can handle.
His tongue is moving fast now. Longs strokes from the bottom of my sex to the top. Every time he hits my clitoris. Ever time I feel my body convulse. My head rolls and my chest shiver in the pleasure he gives me. I wonder if he knows. Again. Again. Again. Each time a little worse. Each time a little better. I know that another orgasm is building.
It has gotten to the point where I can’t really see properly. My eyes close and I can still see him. No, not him, just his mouth. It is still making those long strokes. Faster. My hips are moving in time. Perfect. Moving up to meet his tongue, and pressing forward to get more pressure as he passes by my clitoris. I’m moaning. My breathing is even in time. In, gasp, “oooo”, in, gasp, “oooo”. My head flopping from side to side and a bit of dribble down the side of my mouth: I have forgotten to swallow!
I’m right at the edge. I can feel that feeling building again. Those sun-bombs. That crystallization forming. Just at the peak. Arrrr — two three more thrusts from his tongue and I’ll be there. I must be screaming.
And the jerk stops! I wait, hopping it is a cruel joke. A tease, maybe. But no. I open my eyes. He is standing. His erect cock at eye level. It is tempting, but right now, I need to be satisfied. Maybe later.
I rise, and he grabs my butt, lifting me up. What is he doing. As he lifts me, I feel his cock slide past my stomach, over my pubic hair. I want him in me. His cock springs free and hits my clitoris. He starts to lower me. I reach down to guide him into me. My weight gently settles on him. And spring! He fills me. Ohhh! I want to swallow him whole. I want him all the way in, I want to grab his organ with all my might so that it can never leave. I squeeze with all my might. He groans and his eyes roll back. He breaths in shakily, as he lets me all the way down.
I feel his pubic hair against mine and then I feel the hard bone grind into my clitoris. This and him in me send me right over the edge. I can’t stop moving up and down. I jump. My head from side to side, hair flying everywhere. I must scream my head off. And it goes on and on. Every time he moves another spasm shoots through me. Every time I move I get an electric shock. I can’t think. I can’t see. He doesn’t seem to notice. His gasps are coming loud and fast. He thrusts up, bouncing me high, and holds. The edge. I grind down hard, and squeeze. I want this to be one of his better ones. He lets a full-throated moan. From deep in that hairy chest, it rumbles forth, vibrating me, like those trucks outside. I shiver as my own pleasure overcomes me again. My head snaps back and we collapse on the floor.
I’m panting so hard, oxygen starved, I can barely see. Slowly the barren house returns. I look at him. Drenched in sweat. He is already cool, as I run my hand down his long body, over his cock. It is drenched. I move down over it and start licking it. Slowly. It is partially limp from its recent exertion. But our body fluids mix together are good. Relaxing. I suck, nibble, in at a very relaxing pace. Not really teasing, but not really going after him. Matching our mood — rest for the next session.
The phone rings. The real world comes crashing back in. I can feel the hard wood under my knees, the bare rug to my left. The floor isn’t at its cleanest — but I bet most women who come here don’t notice, as I hadn’t until now. Humph!, wonder what is in his refrigerator.
He gets up, his long body stretching. He walks slowly to the kitchen and the source of that ring. I watch his butt sway, clench, unclench. Yes, a nice body, this guy. Some sort of argument. Don’t call me at this time of night, or something generic like that. I get up, and find my clothes.
I’m not there when he hangs up. I hope he is smart enough not to come after me. I hope he understands. My top, still sticky, feels cold and unpleasant against my chest. Strange how a few hours ago it was one of the most erotic things. I walk past the club and see Jamie walking out with that guy… I hardly give them a notice except to realize that I will have to take a taxi home.
—
by Gordon Watts
