not a single touch

Not a single touch.

Not a single one passed between us.

Though we sat close, facing, an arm’s length away.  Close enough to feel each other’s breath, to see each other’s eyes contract and expand.  Our blinks became a hidden language, even from us.

Cross-legged, clothed, a single blue light bulb from a table lamp hit our skin and cast unreal shadows that after a while seemed to move across our skin, or was it our breathing in and out that sent ripples across the surface teasing every single fine hair.   His hair was black, short, gelled.  A white tee shirt over a brown long-sleeved top. His body lived beneath, alive, I unconsciously smell his body, his scent, his lust…. as well as my own.

Not a single touch, still we sat, staring softly.

Eyes sometimes wandered. Mind too, provoking the next step.   I wore a purple ruffled knee skirt, black woollen thigh socks, I felt the  gathered high waist of my cotton gypsy top below my breasts as I took one breath after another, they were the only sounds filling this shadowed room that held us in its grip.

As I stared he took off his tee and top in one move, grabbed the hem and slowly pulled it over his head revealing his pale but toned torso: some hair adorned his chest, just enough. His muscles not overly accentuated but he was clearly fit, and to my eyes, very much so.    I reciprocated, that’s what we had agreed, silently after only two words….. no touching.

Not a single touch.

Once again he rests his arms in his lap.  He looked into my gaze.  I knew it was my turn.  I reached round the back of my neck and unbuttoned the single button of my top and grabbed the flared hem crossing my arms, I nervously but willingly pulled it up feeling the air gather around my bare tummy.  His eyes followed every move I made, a mere arm’s length apart.    The top came up over my bra and off my shoulders I peeled it over my head careful with my ponytail.

We sat, him topless, me still in my bra. A deep blue balconette bra held my small breasts, part of modesty. A small almost imperceptible look of approval passed across his face, and mostly his eyes. He had nice eyes, they smiled even when the rest of his face didn’t.

Still, not a single touch.

I let my hands fall into my lap where they folded my skirt down between my thighs. He closed his eyes, I closed mine.  I suddenly felt him close, really close, against my skin, all over me, sweat and heat and body oils.  But he wasn’t, he hadn’t moved, neither had I.  Just closing our eyes heightened our senses, the sense of touch, even though no touch happened. Not yet.   My body reacted like one just aroused, the heat inside didn’t know where to go to first so rushed all over making me dizzy with my eyes shut.

I looked, his closed eyes also opened a second after. We shared a smile.  I felt a blush but the darkness hid my naivety.   With slender fingers he unbuttoned the waist of his jeans.   I reached down to my side and unhooked the waistband of my skirt.  I looked to him again and he lowered his zip as far as possible in this position, his boxers now becoming visible for the first time.   My turn, I held the side zip of my skirt and pulled it down loosening the fabric from my hips. The blue light shared its gentle hue across our faces which both held as sense of wanting.

Not a single touch passed between us.

I pulled some of my skirt away so he could see just a little of my underwear, black bikini cut knickers, soft cotton, a small blue ribbon on the waist band and butterfly printed into the side of my intimacy. We sat there in partial undress for a few minutes, quiet, letting each other touch only with eyes.  Hands kept to our own bodies.   He stood, and lowered his jeans til they came off leaving him just in his boxers, then once again sat cross-legged an arm’s length from where I sat, cross-legged.

Again, my turn.  I knew it. It was only fair. I stood, bathed still in blue light and let my unfastened purple skirt fall to the floor without any coaxing and stepped out of it. Standing there for a moment in my underwear and thigh socks.  I sat again, an arm’s length from him.   His skin seemed to shimmer; I wondered what he thought of mine?    His eyes never left me.  I blushed again, my hands resting in my lap hiding my inner thighs and knickers.

We closed our eyes, not a single touch.

This time his heat seemed to wrap around me and I felt flickers across my body, a licking of flames almost, but not.  We sat an arm’s length apart.  My body now feeling increasing arousal I just knew his was. I peeked, saw him breathing deeper now too, breathing the room in, me in.   We both wanted to…… touch…………… but didn’t.

I felt myself wanting… to touch….. myself…. him……. let my hands press down between my thighs.  I didn’t. I opened my eyes and saw he was looking straight into mine. I looked down from his and saw his body coming alive in the blue light.  I gasped inside, hopefully imperceptible to him.   I felt a longing now between my legs and up through my tummy caressing my shoulders and neck and felt the hint of sweat glistening across my skin.   I felt drawn to him, to moving closer.  I reached around my back and unhooked my bra, then held it between my arms as I lowered the straps from one shoulder then the other.   He looked on with a longing gaze.    I let it fall away exposing to the blue light and his eyes my breasts, their light brown aureoles. I sat there and closed my eyes again, he didn’t but instead watched me.

Not a single touch passed between us.

Sitting upright I felt his gaze like hands, fingers, caressing my breasts; first, beneath and around the sides then over each nipple which grew more erect begging to be free.   My breathing quickened, I unfolded my legs and peeled down one thigh sock, then the other, over my knees and feet and toes. Naked skin, both of us but for my knickers and his boxers, that I now noticed could barely contain themselves.

The room was warm, safe, filled with an ever-growing sense of expectation, apprehension and yearning. Two bodies offering but not taking…. yet.

Not  a single touch.

Eventually he stood up.  I watched him, every move of every limb I intently followed with my eyes until he stood there in only shorts.  I unfolded my legs and stood, only in my knickers, my bare skin for his eyes only.   We were a secret for each other to indulge.   My legs shook with excitement as I felt I glowed brighter than the blue light.   We stood, facing, gazing, an arm’s length apart, he reached down and lowered his shorts until they were off.  His excitement and abandon now exposed, from the hairs its length was something I couldn’t keep my eyes off for a few minutes.   I tried but couldn’t.  I smiled to myself and knew it was my turn.  I too looked down at my body and with thumbs in my knickers eased them from my hips and over my mound and thighs and pulled them from one leg then the next.

I pulled upright once again now utterly naked to him as he was to me. We stood in the blue light, merely an arm’s length apart, bodies alive with urges louder than the silence that held us in this space, this moment. My hand went to my tummy, almost involuntarily, and I rubbed gently then down the front of my one leg, and up again.  His excitement got noticeably more so, grew and moved on its own, skin pulled back.  I wanted to touch…. myself……… wanted him to touch me…….. or himself………

I slide my hand down and between my thighs as I had wanted do by now and almost with relief touched just there, between the hairs.  I watched his hand reach around his longing and also rubbed.  The air between wanted to pull us closer as thought attached by elastic: the tension, a burning from the friction of holding back.

Not a single touch….. except…… our own private skin.

I had to sit back down and did, laying back on a cushion with my hand between my thighs moving, finding, unfolding myself before his eyes as he too sat down and half lay watching me his own hand moving up and down along himself, slowly at first then faster.   I spread my moistness over my mound through my hairs, between with one knee bent I felt like I’d never done before with such shared intimacy.  We touched…….. but not each other.  But we watched between increasing snatches of air until we both felt release. His pouring forth over his own legs he let go without hesitating which made my insides explode and a sensitivity almost too much to touch but I did until I couldn’t anymore, my hips contracting and shuddering, folds flushed and unveiling the tension.

I collapsed,

he collapsed,

not a single touch passed between us.

not a single touch

© 2017 Emmaleela

3 Comments

  1. This story excites me whether I want it to or not. I immediately buy into the initial clothed posture, and then I can’t leave. I watch his turns, and then I feel yours as if they were my own. I want to be nude, to be watched, to masturbate, to cum. And I do.
    Thank you for using your talent.

    Liked by 1 person

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