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I was visiting an old friend who lived in the city. It was my first trip here and I was weary from a long day of traveling. My friend considerately arranged for dinner to take place in my hotel’s restaurant knowing I’d be tired. The dinner party consisted of a group of friends of my friend, many of whom I didn’t know but since I’d be spending a few weeks visiting, it made sense to meet the people with whom I’d be socializing. It started innocently enough with the accidental brush of my hand against his thigh.
I have an unfortunate habit of dropping my napkin at inopportune times. During dinner, while I’m having an animated conversation extolling the virtues of dry versus fresh pasta I become aware that my napkin is heading towards the floor. Not missing a beat in my conversation, I reach down to catch the napkin and instead find myself grabbing a warm thigh; upper thigh to be exact. Immediately, I jerk my hand back and I feel my face redden. Thankfully, it’s dark and loud in the restaurant. Embarrassed, I refuse to even acknowledge my unintentional groping victim. I’m saved from my discomfort by the arrival of our food and soon we’re all quietly eating, drinking wine and enjoying company.
We’re a large group seated at a round table with two half circle booths, the kind you have to slide into. It’s very snug seating with just enough respectful distance between diners to feel comfortable. Partially through dinner, I realize that I’m still missing my napkin and I try again to reclaim it. This time as I angle my body to reach down I feel movement from the man next to me. “Would you like some help?” he whispers in my ear. He slides closer to me so I alone can hear his voice. His left leg presses firmly against my right leg making it impossible to reach the napkin without touching him. Again.
“No thank you” I reply waiting for him to move away. Nothing happens. I wait a few more seconds and press my leg against his giving him a friendly hint; still no movement. Annoyed, I reach my hand under the table, sliding it down his thigh, past his knee where I’m able to grab the napkin. Clarity in charged social situations was never my strength, but even I realize that he purposefully left his leg resting against mine. I drag my hand slowly up his leg with the napkin trailing behind. His leg is warm and muscular and as my fingers caress the area over his knee I feel his leg jerk slightly accompanied by an intake of breath. “He’s ticklish,” I smile to myself. My fingertips dig into his thigh massaging their way to his hip before sliding off his leg. “I’m sooo sorry,” I murmur as I place the napkin back in my lap. He makes no response, but I can see his mouth controlling a slight grin. Dinner continues uneventfully while I become more aware of the man sitting next to me. He doesn’t speak to me again, but I know he is conscious of me.
After dessert, fatigue sets in and I find myself day dreaming. Instinctively, I rest my head on the back of the booth, close my eyes and begin skimming my hand along my thigh taking in the textural differences between my stiff leather skirt and the soft, smooth skin of my leg. I’m contemplating heading to my hotel room and taking a long, relaxing bath when I realize two things. I’m no longer feeling my own skin, but instead the smooth material of khaki pants and that my hand is no longer stroking my own leg, but is sliding back and forth over the leg of the man next to me. Shocked, I freeze and start to slowly move my hand back toward my own leg when I feel his leg move as if to make my hand continue its motions. He leans closer, his breath stirring the hair around my ear and says, “Don’t stop.”
Table conversation turns to lighthearted talk while I’m living in the moment experimenting with pressure and touch exploring the man next to me. My hand navigates every inch of his upper thigh and I’m boldly moving towards his inner thigh. Meeting resistance in the form of his other leg I push my fingers between his thighs and give a little nudge hoping he’ll take the hint. This time he does and opens the distance between his legs. I leave my hand there, curled around his thigh, but I continue to explore with my fingers. I can feel his arousal growing as I slide my hand closer. My fingers are soon sliding over his hard erection. My hand rests there rubbing and teasing for what seems like an eternity. All too soon, some of my friends are leaving and I’m obliged to rise and hug them goodbye.
As I sit back down, my hand stays in my lap. I don’t want to push my luck with him. Minutes later, I’m surprised to feel a hand taking my own. Strong, warm fingers are massaging my right hand and I’m shaken by my reaction. My body is getting warm and yet I have goose bumps on my arms and legs. He is caressing each finger slowly touching every inch of skin with soft yet firm hands that have a surprising light touch. My head is again resting on the booth and my eyes are closed. I can feel my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. My body betrays my cool, calm exterior. My nipples harden tuzla escort and a slight, electric pressure is building between my legs. I shift my hips trying to ease it, but I only succeed in intensifying the pressure. My left hand rests in my lap, massaging my thigh in precise coordination with the sensual assault on my hand. My hand starts to slide under the edge of my skirt with the ultimate goal of releasing the building pressure. I’m struggling to remain cognizant of my surroundings, but it’s becoming difficult. I realize I’m starting to draw attention to myself, so I sigh loudly and say, “Maybe three glasses of wine is my limit?”
“Lightweight,” someone snickers from the other side of the table. I sense more than hear his restrained laughter. He and I are both aware that it’s not the wine causing my reaction. I put up no fight when my hand is returned to his lap. I’m reveling in the feel of him while his hand uses mine to stroke his erection. He forms my fingers around him and slides them with firm pressure up and down. Soon his hand falls away and I’m stroking him on my own accord. I can feel his breathing quicken and I realize he’s as turned on as me.
I turn my head to look at him and our eyes meet. An unspoken question is asked within those timeless moments. Without breaking eye contact, I reluctantly pull my hand off my thigh, reach inside my purse and grab my extra room key. Giving him one last long stroke, I remove my hand from his erection and slide the key onto his lap. Leaning over, I whisper “30 minutes – room 402” and get up to leave. Making my way around the table to say goodbye to my friends, I avoid looking at him for as long as possible. Finally our eyes meet again and from my angle, I can see he has the key in one hand and is touching himself with the other. He looks at me for a long time and just as I can’t bear the coming rejection, he imperceptibly nods his head.
In a fog, I find my way to my room and I’m shaking with fear, anticipation and anxiety all at the same time. What am I doing? Is it too late to change my mind? I enter the room and put the safety lock on the door knowing it will prevent anyone from entering. I stand with my back against the door. I’m torn between the logical, safe decision and the needful desire that is threatening to bubble over. Taking a few deep breaths, I clear my head and think. Turning around I remove the safety lock and move towards the bathroom.
Strangely enough, once the decision is made, I know without a doubt it was the right one. I’m calm and my head is clear. I know what I’m doing and I’m turned on by the idea and thoughts of what’s to come. In the bathroom, I remove my clothes and step into the shower. As collected as I am, I’m still nervous and a hot shower may help me relax. I wash my hair and soap my body, taking time to ease the aching between my legs. Minutes pass, my legs are tingling and I am having trouble standing. It feels so damn good, but I force myself to stop before I find release. I don’t want to deny myself any pleasure later.
While I regain control, I let the hot shower pound my shoulders, easing my tense muscles. After rinsing my body I turn off the water and climb out of the shower. I wrap a towel around myself and also my hair. I look around for something to wear, not exactly sure what to put on. I find a red satin button down shirt and pull it on. I button all but the top and bottom buttons. The shirt falls to mid-thigh and I wear nothing else. I’m towel drying my hair when I hear the key in the door.
I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, towel in hand. He walks into the room and closes the distance between us. He says nothing as he reaches for me removing the towel from my hands and tossing it to the floor. His hand grips my shirt, pulling me closer. I move towards him standing with my legs parted and he slips one of his legs between them. We’re facing each other but only our legs are touching. We make eye contact again and it’s electric. I place my hand on his chest and close my eyes. Breathing in his scent, I open my eyes, asking, “Are you sure?” Once again he smiles as if amused by me.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I don’t like to assume.” I shoot back. He takes my hand from his chest and slides it down the front of his pants.
“Is this a clear enough answer?” he replies. I take my time exploring, knowing it’s a clear enough answer, but wanting to take back some control.
“I’m a direct woman; I’d prefer to hear it,” I respond. I use my other hand to pull his face towards mine and I run my lips lightly over his. I nibble on his lower lip and use my tongue to soothe the area. His mouth opens a little and I slip my tongue inside. He tastes like wine and chocolate. I suck his lower lip and apply pressure and release. His arm curls around my back and pulls me closer. He lets me remain in control, even though I can tell he wants to take the lead. I pull back when I feel his mouth reaching for mine. “Not yet,” I say, “you still haven’t atalar escort answered my question.”
He growls, which turns me on even more. I slide my tongue over his lips once more and let him kiss me. Our lips are hot, wet and our kisses are restrained yet exploratory and in check, until one of us sighs loudly. We’re stilled by the sound of our ragged breathing. He kisses me again, fully in control. His tongue slides into my mouth and playfully tangles with my own. Both of my hands are on his face, holding him tight and his are caressing my back. Desperately needing to regain control, I push his face away from mine and rest my head on his chest. He still hasn’t answered my question.
I turn away and pick up my hair brush. Handing it to him I silently instruct him to brush my hair. Turning so that my back is facing him, I stand with my eyes closed trying to regain composure. My legs are tingling again and I’m so turned on that every move I take is pleasurable. Standing still, I let him brush the knots out of my hair. He’s remarkably gentle and adept at this task. I can feel the tension leaving my shoulder as his hands work their way through my hair. I let my head fall forward and I hear him drop the brush on the bed.
Anticipating what’s next, I’m surprised when I feel his hands massaging my shoulders. For countless minutes, he relieves the tension in my body skillfully releasing the knots in my neck and back. He leans forward and moves my hair and kisses the skin below my ear. He sucks gently and nibbles with his teeth. I sigh in pleasure and shuffle backwards until my body meets his. His hands play with the neckline of my shirt dipping over and under stroking my skin, my collarbone and the front of my neck. One hand strokes upwards to touch my lips. I lick his fingers and use my teeth to suck and gently bite them as they explore my mouth. All too soon, his fingers leave my mouth and trail down to rest on my hip. His mouth remains on my neck kissing and licking and his other hand slides to my stomach and slips between two buttons. His hand is warm on my skin and it tickles. He removes his hand and tugs the outside of my shirt. I take his hand and move it to one of the bottom buttons.
Together we unbutton one button. Moving my head, I capture his mouth and we kiss again for moments. Our hands slide up toward another button and we release that one. Turning my head so he can kiss the other side of my neck I just close my eyes and experience the moment. I can feel him growing harder behind me and I even though I know he’s uncomfortable, I’m too deep in the moment to do anything about it. Our hands slip up to open another button. There are just two buttons left closed at the top of my shirt. His hand slides beneath my shirt and rests under my breasts. He caresses the area below them, letting his fingers brush the bottom of my breasts for a long time. It feels amazing. I deliberately wiggle my behind to bring him some of the pleasure I’m feeling. He stops, sucks in his breath and sighs in my ear. “Easy”, he says. I smile.
I can’t stand the teasing any more so I take his hand and place it on top of one of my breasts. He uses his fingertips to tease my nipple, which is already hard and sensitive. I arch my chest out and we kiss again. This time it’s hot and hard and as our kisses get more aggressive, so do his fingers on my nipple. He tugs and pulls and pinches. As he does, my legs buckle and I feel the aching between my legs intensify. Gasping in pleasure, my head falls forward again. I slide one hand down my body to alleviate the aching while I reach the other arm around his neck to hold myself up. He places his other hand on top of mine and together our fingers are sliding in and out of my wetness.
“Your hands, they feel incredible, sooo good,” I breathe heavily as my hand falls helplessly to my side. His fingers close in on my most sensitive area and he taps his fingers quickly causing me to cry out loud.
“You like this,” he states matter of factly, increasing the speed of the tapping.
“Yesss,” I hiss.
“And this?” he asks as he circles the swollen area with alternating firm and gentle touches.
“god, YESSSS!” Overloaded with pleasure, I’m so close to losing it. Trying to regain control, I slowly drag his hand towards my other breast and silently encourage him to tease that one too. I move my hand behind me to touch him and he’s shaking as much as I am.
Groaning, he leans his head close to my ear and says, “Yes.”
I stop moving. “Yes to what?” I ask.
“Tease,” he says in a strained voice, “Yes, I’m sure.” I’ve never been called a tease before and it gives me a strange feeling of power.
I step away from him and dim the lights in the room. Pointing a finger at him, I order “Pants off. Now!”
“Bossy is good,” he smirks as he starts undressing.
“Leave your shirt on, just unbuttoned.” I say. “Please.”
While he’s undressing, I move two chairs to face each other. The chairs are heavily cevizli escort cushioned and have tall backs. One chair has arms while the other does not. He comes behind me as I’m arranging the chairs and reaches around to unbutton the remaining buttons of my shirt.
“I want to see you,” he says.
“Oh, you will,” I reply as I turn around. We kiss again, hands at our sides, with only our mouths touching. I start pushing him backwards toward the armchair. When his legs hit the edge of the chair, I stop to look at him. He’s wearing a shirt and boxers, which happen to do a bad job of hiding his arousal. I reach out to touch his erection. He catches his breath and waits for my next move. I tug down the sides of his boxers so they fall to the floor. He steps out of them and I push him back in the chair. I lean over him, kissing him and holding his arms in place. I place one knee along side his leg and lean towards the chair. I put my other leg on the other side of him and position myself so that I am resting on him just above his knees. I know the precise moment he realizes how hot and wet I am because he groans, pulls me closer and intensifies our kiss. I scoot closer so that we’re almost touching. I place my hand between us so my palm is touching me and the back of my hand is touching him. I scoot even closer so there’s little room between us. He tries to move his hand to join mine, but I don’t let him. I start rocking back and forth as we kiss causing my hand to stimulate us both.
Moving his mouth from my lips, he kisses down my neck. His hands reach for my breasts and caress them. Thumbs rake over my erect nipples as he tugs me closer to his mouth. His tongue takes over and starts teasing one hard nipple pulling it into his mouth and sucking. Firmly. Moaning loudly, I turn my hand to grip him and start using firm pressure to stroke. Sensing his need for release I ease pressure and work up and down his length using light touches. Resting the palm of my hand on the top of his penis I gently squeeze and massage the head. My fingers explore every hard inch as I run my nails up and down in a light scraping manner. He’s using his teeth and his hands on my breasts now, alternating them as I shake with pleasure.
“Do you want to know how wet I am?” I ask him. He looks at me, with my nipple still in his mouth, bites gently and nods his head. I maintain eye contact as I rub myself thoroughly drenching my hand. “I’m going to touch you now,” I announce as I move my hand towards him. He continues to tease my nipples as I circle him with my hot, wet hand. Gripping him, I slide my hand up and down alternating speed, making sure to flick my thumb over that sensitive spot.
His eyes glaze over, he stops sucking my nipple and this time he groans, “Don’t stop.” Knowing we’re both close and I’m not nearly done, I stop and slide off his lap. My resolve weakens when I see frustration in his eyes, but I’m confident in my ultimate plan.
“Trust me,” I whisper. He waits a moment before nodding. I grab two waters from the fridge and toss him one. I sit down in the chair across from him. “Let’s start with things my way and then if we agree to continue, you can call the shots and I’ll submit to you.” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Are you still interested?”
He thinks for a few moments and asks “Is the rest of your plan anything like what just happened?” I take a drink without answering. “Hell, yes,” he says.
“Excellent”, I reply. I place my water bottle on the floor and settle into the armless chair with my legs together in front of me. My unbuttoned shirt is open and my breasts are raw and sensitive from his teeth and hands. I start touching them and feeling my swollen nipples.
“Do you like watching me touch myself?” I ask.
“Am I am a man?” he fires back.
“Point taken. Dumb question.” I laughingly concede. I lean my head back and use both hands to touch my breasts, tugging and pulling and squeezing them together and apart. I slide a finger into my mouth, wet it thoroughly and use it to tease a nipple.
“Describe what you’re feeling.” He commands.
“It’s hard and soft at the same time, responsive when I touch it like this,” as I circle my nipple, pinching with my wet fingers, “it feels like an electrical shock.” I stand up and move toward him. “Let me show you.” I kneel over his legs, making sure not to make contact with his body and lean in to touch his nipples. I do exactly what he did to me, squeeze, pinch and pull. Watching the pleasure show on his face, I lean forward and suck one of his nipples into my mouth, roll my tongue over it, biting gently and then not so gently followed by a soothing suck. I do the same to his other nipple before moving back to my chair. “How was that?” I ask.
“Incredible” is all he can manage. I settle back into the chair and continue touching my breasts, moving slowly down my body.
“Touch yourself, I want to watch.” I instruct him. He reaches down and slowly begins to stroke himself. I touch myself too, slow, purposeful touches that bring heat and chills at the same time. We sit there for an indeterminate amount of time watching each other masturbate listening to sounds of our pleasure and learning the kind of movements the other finds enjoyable. There is no longer any rush for release.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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