with little persuasion (part 1)

I’ve got used to expecting the unexpected, or mostly so, insofar as I think I have until something unexpected happens and then once again I’m taken by surprised. This particular unexpected happened at the weekend, a gathering of close friends at one their houses, all very casual, nothing fancy, eight of us enjoyed a plethora of food and drinks with the inevitable chatter of conversation all night long and into the small hours.

Among them was this one guy I’d quite liked and have noticed on and off at university for a few months now though with no particular aim or game-plan (I never have a game-plan, just never that organised when it comes to relationships) of having anything to do with him beyond passing hello’s with him. It was much more of the usual day-to-day fantasising we all do. But when someone flicks a switch inside you, sometimes without a word or even touch or necessarily anything in particular, then that’s when you can’t help but sit up and pay more attention.  He flicked that switch.

I am far too shy to flirt with him or in fact anyone, flirting has never been something I was good at nor felt comfortable with but normal chat I can do, sometimes far too much which I found turns some guys off.  But then, my intentions aren’t always inclined that way, sometimes it’s good just to chat and share stuff with like-minded.

As the evening drew on we were, just the two of us among the others, in conversation about deeper than your usual frivolous stuff, about writing, books, critiques and suchlike, until came the time we should leave. It had gone midnight and as were leaving at the same time he offered me a lift home in his car.  As I knew he hadn’t had a drink being teetotal I happily accepted and it would be cheaper than a taxi which was my original plan.

We said our goodbyes to our hosts and got into his car, a small black Peugeot, and drove in the direction of where I live several miles away and which he claimed wasn’t out of his way as he lived in the same general area so didn’t feel like I was abusing his generous nature.  I noticed the car was a Peugeot not because I know anything about them just I also have one, though mine isn’t black.

On the way we pulled into a layby, up until which I felt I’d been talking almost non-stop feeling as he’d offered me a lift I should be a diligent passenger in helping him stay alert after a long evening despite him not drinking and he seemed happy to listen to my nonsense rambling from topic to topic.  He turned off the engine and without hesitation turned to me grabbed and squeezed my hand and rested his other on my knee, leaned over and went straight in for a kiss. Had we not been in the confines of the car I’d have fallen backwards with the surprise but all that happened was my back stopped at the door as our lips met full on.

I was taken aback, flabbergasted. To my surprise I didn’t respond by slapping him or pushing him away objecting at this intrusion into my personal space.  Instead I pretty much reciprocated, taking his kiss with my lips in returning.

We kissed and I felt his hand through my skirt where it still lay just above my knee with small caressing motions.    Immediately I felt electrified for no reason I could think of except maybe the drink, or perhaps I just realised how much I did fancy him.  The kiss was exceptionally good as it turned out, and we stayed as such for several minutes here in this unlit layby in an all-black Peugeot.   For a moment  I had an irrational silent panic about my breath; was it tainted with the alcohol I’d had earlier but if it was he didn’t seemed to mind, not that I’d drank that much.

Rather surreptitiously his hand now moved up my leg over my hips still on the outside of my clothing and exploring my brown, loose tunic jumper until he was seductively sliding over my breast.  I didn’t stop kissing at this slightly sudden turns of events as in all honesty it felt good, and the longer he lingered the more vigorous his contact became.  I took deeper breaths and crossed my leg over the other to more easily face him while his hand now moved freely from one to the other breast until with stealth precision in this half-light he slid beneath and as expertly under my vest top until his fingers were tracing my bra strap teasingly and over the cups that held me secure continuing his vigorous progress of discovery.

His fingers didn’t take long to worm their way under the bra exploring more fully my small breasts until touching my nipples now somewhat excited by all this febrile activity. He seemed to enjoy how pliable I seemed to have become under his touch while his fingers tweaked along my bra and full-handedly fondling my softness.

One could ask was it foresight on my part to wear such a baggy jumper to allow such easy access to one so intent?

We kissed more as I was reluctant to explore in the dark with my hand to find out any part of his anatomy for fear, or thrill, of what I know I might uncover. He suggested we drive to his place instead to which I, though not intentionally in such a strangled tone, squeakily agreed.  Perhaps I should have thought it through and politely declined suggesting we carry on back to mine where we’d say goodnight but, I didn’t.

When your switch is flicked then it’s not so easy to flick it back.

His hand lay on my leg the whole way except when he needed to change gear of course, and when back we both with almost no hesitation went into his flat which was on the ground floor of a terrace house and even had a bay window while witnessed only by the dark small hours of the night barely stopped kissing.  It became a blur but as the door we blundered and straight into a room which turned out to be his bedroom tumbling giggling onto his bed.  A large bed I noticed, very, probably king-size if not queen.  My legs hanged over the edge with my feet touching the floor with him on top of me in complete control. Despite this kerfuffle we kept kissing. How we got this far without breaking anything is anyone’s guess.

I must confess I adore kissing and it’s something important to me when with a guy, or a girl, it’s often a make-or-break thing, as in it has to be good, with conviction and taste just right.  With him it was most definitely the ‘make’ part of it.

By now his hand ran up and down and long my bare legs beneath the skirt I wore, an A-cut autumn-coloured skirt with big buttons down the front.  He persisted in easing it up which our prone position and his weight deterred me preventing his hand reached my thigh.   His knee was now between my legs parting me inches and it was then I felt a distinct bulge in his black jeans pressed against my knee. His touch was sensitive and incredibly tender firing shivers through me as I lay unable to object though actually not of a mind to do so, by now feeling heavily committed all the way.

Out of the blue his grabbed my jumper stripping me of it in one remarkably swift motion, off my arms it came and over my head.  One thin strap of my vest  pulled from my shoulder along with the strap of my black bra as he kissed just there, in the hollow and up to my neck with increasing enthusiasm as if he could be more so.  I held onto his hips like an anchor to stop me drifting away but drift I did, into the intensity that unfolded while peeling his shirt away.  His skin was hot, but so was mine.

My vest came down further still exposing the bra with its lace edging and then the same with the other shoulder straps coming away from my arms where it now lay below my fully-revealed bra.  His teeth scraped along my neck smeared with his lips and saliva, our hips were glued together in subtle animalistic rhythms.    My top was now no more than a stretched waist band as he slipped a hand behind my bra and unhooked it easily and tempted it away from one breast then the other giving him yet more of me to feast upon which he did with fingers and mouth.

My mind along with my clothing was in disarray. I was not in control yet fully aware of my sweet and easy surrender. His hand was under my skirt again claiming my underwear, my knickers, and taking the chance to trace the shape of my sex inside through the cotton blend, his torso on top of mine fixing me to the mattress.   I grew moist, unleashed by his expert explorations unable to stop his determined fingers between my skin and the lace to which he took my hand and slipped it under my skirt and placing it over my own pubic mound encouraging me to feel myself  as he was. His touch and mine impressing upon me further excitations.

Together we touched me, drew tiny circles and tempted my folds to swell, kneading, enthralling, pulling me closer and closer to an inevitable, parting my thighs more and more at which I complied with both our hands conjoined and feeling their way to a deeper me.

Knickers edged aside again he pushed my fingers into my sex alongside his and together we moved, felt, fucked me, slipping easily along my moistened tunnel, pressing my clit now excited beyond limits, limits which would soon go even further. Inside and out we moved fast then slow, repeating urgent then patiently, siphoning the lust. I closed my eyes; he took my other hand and slipped that too beneath a skirt now raised to my hips with yet more of me on display. Once again lingerie pulled aside knowing now he has full view and access to my intimacy, and all that glistened within and without.

I did what I was made to do, masturbating, indulging my own desires while his hand stayed locked in mine all the way until I was aware that now it was just my own hands between my thighs now exploring unguided choosing to pull away my knickers to his delight to watch every moment.  I felt my own heat caressing my sex. my soft and vulnerable inner thighs as though learning anew how tender they are as he leaned back watching, watching, his gaze taunting me further inside myself touching exactly where I knew I needed be.

Once again he joined in but this time pushing the actual fabric of my knickers into my folds becoming soaked with my flow, encouraging as much as possible as I felt them tightening around my hips, between my buttocks, continuing to make me masturbate my fingers and fabric into me and to which I could no longer deny having come this far.

He greedily watched me until grabbing roughly and dragging them from my hips fully and completely exposing my thighs in their entirety to his own unravelling desires.  They were soaked.  I was soaked.
Bundling them in his fingers he rubbed them against me holding my legs ever wider, one knee up on the edge of the bed he slipped my knickers into my palm and together we pressed them against my quivering folds realising such extraordinary sensations.  How soft, how thrilling, until he fingered the knickers into my openness, inserted them sodden into my thighs.

I knew what I was doing, I let it happen, let him make me fill myself inch by inch while he watched and kissed my knees then thighs keeping me in a constant state of intense arousal, even helping, unable to hold himself back, until they were all the way inside but for an inch protruding.

He lay between my thighs, kissing, licking, and that’s when I finally came, an orgasm taking me by surprise and wracking my whole body, my hips shuddered, my back arched, leaving me more vulnerable than ever to which he spread me wider. I felt his breath on my sweating thighs and my knickers crumpled inside me.

Without a word he guided my fingers to slowly retrieve them, black knickers now stained darker and again serving of excitement through me as I surreptitiously, or perhaps not so much, stimulated my clit.  The orgasm had left me more sensitive to the touch threatening to bring me another, maybe even more. When half way out he eased them back in a little, then out a little more, allowing each time more of the soggy fabric away until they were out and he was instantly between my thighs kissing the aftermath of my orgasm. His tongue danced urgent to find just the right places to make me come again, painfully ticklish and intensely arousing.

My knickers replaced by his mouth as once again I grew close, closer, anticipation increasing as much as the painful-looking bulge intent on escaping his jeans………

with little persuasion

(… continued in “with little persuasion (part 2)” …)

© 2018 Emmaleela

4 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s