House of Sin

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Fingers and lust

Her seat was tilted back, breasts pushing upwards through a tight bra and a tighter tank top. My fingers roamed over her chest as we talked. God, she has great tits.

"Should we get a hotel?" I asked, my eyes meeting hers.

Green and hazel flared with lust as she paused.

"I don't know," She panted.

The car was quiet, except for the hum of the air conditioner. Two teenagers lay out in the sun only thirty feet away. The nearest vehicle was eight or nine parking spots down the path. A birthday party was winding down on the other side of the lawn.

We were alone, except for the rising sexual tension.

"It's different with you." She said, turning her head to look out the window. "It's so much more..."

"Intense?" I finished.

"Yeah." She sighed.

"With you..." She continued, "It's different. I can just, I don't know, give in. It's hot, and I feel safe, and there's all this power, and..."

Her voice trailed off, as my mind fixated on the comment about power. Through all the years of the on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again and now almost-on-again relationship between myself and my ex-girlffriend, the sex and the lust and have been incredible. Clothes have been ruined, sexy outfits have been purchased. New positions have been tried, old positions have been perfected. Fingers and tongues, lips and lips, they've all been used.

It's never been hotter with anyone else. Not for her, nor for me. And along the way, after four years, the tension has only gotten stronger. We've gone months at a time without talking or seeing each other, only to meet again. There's an awkwardness as we meet "again" for the first time. On each occasion, it only takes a few hours for the awkwardness to transform; Clothes are dangerously close to being ripped off, followed by a fucking frenzy that would put porn stars to shame.

Such was my Memorial Day weekend.

On Tuesday afternoon, after two days of almost-foreplay, of quick and forbidden gropes and kisses, our collective libidos were super-charged. If we'd had the money and the time to get a room, we would've done so. But we were both staying with family (and you know how that goes).

So when I heard her talk about power, she inadvertantly cranked the dial from 11 (on a scale from 1 to 10) to 25.

I almost jumped her right there and then.

BDSM is one of my secret passions and when she dropped that comment (without even knowing what BDSM is), I could've thrusted myself inside her so fast, she would've screamed.

And loved every minute of it.

Given we were in her car and there were people around, I was limited in my potential response. But I'm an imaginative bastard, and God knows I love her breasts. Just watching them heave up and down in the heat and lust... ah.

"Take off your panties," I ordered. Power and lust crackled in the air, while an inner debate raged in her mind: caught between need and propriety, want and decorum, she needed to make a decision.

But she didn't HAVE a choice. It was my decision, my choice... mine.

"Take off your panties," I repeated, more firmly.

The staring contest continued; she stood strong for a few seconds, then wavered, then gave in. She lifted her hips, reached under her skirt and pulled off her underwear. I laughed quietly to myself, as my fingers pushed her skirt up to her waist.

"Spread your legs," I ordered. There was no indecision this time. Her legs parted eagerly.

Moving my hand up her thighs, my fingers easily found her, and found her wet. As I massaged her moist pussy, she sighed and closed her eyes.

My finger slide inside her easily, as I felt her insides for the first time in over six months. I pulled my finger upwards, finding her clit, and pressing down against it.

Turning over my shoulder to make sure noone could see us, I kept moving my finger back and forth; inside her wetness, then pressing against her pleasure spot. Her hips pushed against me, as as her eyelids remained shut.

For ten minutes, I fingered her. For ten minutes, I watched around us. For ten minutes, she enjoyed our little reality break.

For ten minutes, we throbbed.

We've always turned each other on, yet due to the distance between us, have rarely had the time to release what gathered inside. For years, we've been careful to not let other people see what we're doing.

I wonder what it would be like for the two of us to be near each other, so we could spend time working through some of our, heh, tension. I wonder how much longer this will go on.

I don't know.

But in the meantime, I'll keep getting her wet, while she keeps getting me hard. That'll have to do for now.

--The Bastard.

Posted by The Bastard :: 10:34 PM :: 1 comments