party favours #3: that prickling feeling

(continued from “party favours #2: kiss and tell”
…. even more insistently his fingers between my thighs telling me he was obviously horny too, urging me, encouraging me, to uncross my legs……”)

I sipped my drink and tried my hardest to ignore his hand under the table monopolising my leg knowing that as long as I keep my legs crossed I’m safe, it can’t go any further, I’m in control (was I?), and anyway, I was sure he would stop soon.

He didn’t.

His hand continued exploring, urging, teasing, wayward and surprisingly pleasurable on both legs, slithering up and then down, touching the edge of my skirt inching the hem along. I still didn’t make him stop.

Maybe it was his eyes, he had really evocative eyes, quietly sensual, or maybe it was his voice, a certain resonance which made me pay attention. Maybe was it the alcohol, at least a bit I’m sure it was? Most probably a combination alongside the heady air the party oozed into every corner of every room by the time of night it was.   I glanced his way, quick and sneakily, hoping he wouldn’t notice.  He wasn’t looking at first but then I realise a tell-tale glint in the corner of his eye and a small almost imperceptible smile. To all intents and to the others he oozed innocence.

I snatched away my gaze more than a little embarrassed knowing I was blushing but could’ve easily blamed the warmth generated by the party in general. I desperately needed to get a grip.

Being the good girl I am I kept my hands on the table in full view and my legs duly crossed, one over the other knee, my skirt slipped between them.  Regardless I still felt his hand, his ever-so agile fingers discovering more and more just how aroused he was making me, and he knew it.

What was he thinking?

What was I thinking?

Regardless of my futile barrier his movements continued unabashed and upwards breaking down my ineffectual defences fingering the hem of my skirt enticing the bare skin of my legs.  I should’ve wore tights, or leggings but I decided it was a party and would be warm and I’d be more comfortable bare-legged. I couldn’t deny small pangs of arousal were rippling throughout my limbs focusing between my legs and to where his fingers played me. It was the kind of arousal I had earlier while dancing, and we know how that ended; a tightening in my stomach, tensing of thighs tightening my legs increasing the heat under my skirt. He was now loosely caressing the material of my skirt with no intention on stopping anytime soon, I thought.

I was surprised no one noticed or had at least an inkling what was happening but as far as I could tell as I was being stirred into a cocktail of horniness and embarrassment no one showed any signs that they had while still playing the “Kiss & Tell”. Just at that thought I held a breath in this mid-air collision as his fingers began pushing, not too forcibly but enough, between my crossed legs urging my skirt away and inevitably roaming closer to somewhere far more intimate.

I thought at one point I would faint as my temperature rose feverishly.

With effort his persistence paid off for him as his slide them neatly between my thighs. I tightened even more against them but still he seemed more determined than ever, even enthused by my reluctance; a reluctance I wasn’t going to admit was mixed with a looming thrill I know so well. He was winning this battle of wills, my dissolving by the seconds and I felt almost against my own will my legs uncross in response to his insistence. I couldn’t be sure if I was giving in or some unseen force was making me.  There was certainly some obvious tangible force and that was Dom and his flexible digits.

He now made the most of a relatively unobstructed way up my legs beneath my skirt though I still had presence of mind to keep my thighs together. My skirt shifted higher now submitting to his progress; if his fingers were a tongue they would be tasting their way, leaving a trail of moist saliva from lips. My skin almost sizzled, pale and shivering but not from being cold, quite the opposite, the intensity had sensitised my flesh as if in itself was an invitation, a give-away, my tell-tale.

My skirt continued to ruffle up.

I couldn’t help but shuffle on my chair, unquestionably turned on, panicky, faint, tipsy, enmeshed in events beyond my control.  My legs almost fell open of their own accord but I denied him such an easy defeat on my part but what I couldn’t deny was how damp my new, clean knickers were now feeling against my inner hips.

Then I felt his hand touch me there, my knickers, pressing against the soft pink material, toying with their lace edge. Just then I felt I was standing on the roof of a skyscraper looking down into the fall, overwhelmed by vertigo, can’t go forwards, can’t go back. He divided my attention between the game and swathes of sexual emotions, caressing the best he could in this position and in an effort to keep it secret, between us, our tryst in plain sight. His actions made my legs part slightly, or this is what I tell myself, it was his doing, and my undoing.  His hand took advantage as it slid fully over my mound, my skirt hoisted up to my hips, had it not been under the table it would have been exhibitionism to all and sundry. He began gentle rubbing motions pressing the cotton into my sex, against my pubic mound, I knew he was getting the feel of my intimacy using touch to feed his imagination; slow, shallow motions making it hard for me not to move my hips in time.

I was dizzy, almost shaking, imperceptibly and unconsciously moving my hips, a reflex to being touched in such a way, in such a place. I was no longer hearing any of the conversation at the table; heaven knows what I must have looked like, half-drunk perhaps. Instead I was experiencing waves of pleasure getting taller, longer, higher as his touch grew more focused, my knickers now as moist as the other had become, and for which I no longer had any spare.  But it was too late, I was committed, I knew it, my mind and body fought for some balance, some coherence of the present as he effectively began masturbating me under the table, beneath my skirt, over my pink underwear pressing some in between my labia. He was exploring my shape, my sensitivity, my reactions. I felt helpless against this rush, this oncoming tsunami.

My thighs burned, ached, my thighs taut now open slightly a little more allowing Dom to fully feel my inner space stimulating me constantly and seeming to enjoy my discomfort coupled with an abandon.

I hoped and tried not to give anything away to the others when his fingers pressed my now swollen clitoris and I almost jumped out of my skin never mind my seat. At the very least I’m sure my eyes just popped out of my head. Alex gave me a strange look but seemed oblivious in her state of inebriation of what was actually going on just a couple of feet away from her.

His touch, his fingers, were growing more impatient as they rubbed as fast as they could which wasn’t very but still were bringing me closer and closer to something I didn’t think I’d do again that night, nor so soon after the other while dancing. They slipped under my crotch and started following the shape of my labia through soaking the cotton throroughly with my own exhilaration. He probed, explored, and I let him do it feeling myself even more aroused by the riskiness of it all which seemed to add a febrile hue to the proceedings.  I kept trying to keep my breath as normal as possible as his fingers seemed to be learning how to use the angle, use it to his advantage against me.

I swallowed hard.

Still I couldn’t look towards him as that would be one embarrassment too far. Instead I just let it all unfold as my innards were collapsing into one tiny black spot of intense mass threatening that once it had become as small as it could go it would reverse and explode.

His fingertips were trying to slip under the elasticated lace to feel skin against skin, and I wasn’t sure if I should let him by shifting position but I was so far gone. My thighs opened as he touched the edge of my mound partially under my knickers but not enough for more but definitely enough for me to cum, to orgasm and spasm inside my hips, thighs and down my legs. I wanted to scream and inwardly did so as I slumped forward onto the table still having no clue as to where they were in the game or even if it was still being played.  Luckily everyone was fairly well-gone on alcohol by now, though Dom seemed still fairly sober. After all, I don’t believe someone drunk can be as dextrous with their fingers as he was being as his found all the right buttons to press and he pressed most of them.

He cupped my entire sex now knowing full well I was having an orgasm and squeezed and fingers and pressed, anything he seemed to be able to think to make sure I cum as hard as possible. He needn’t have worried though, I did, more than did, I gulped hard, my mouth went suddenly dry s though I was trying to swallow something that wasn’t there, I felt tears welling up in my probably already bloodshot eyes, a mist fell over me and I could hear nothing. All sound fell flat crushed into nothing, his hand remained there while I came and I could feel him encouraging every last drop of its cascade.

My legs pulled together like a Venus flytrap onto his hand and I was suddenly hyper-sensitive all over but particularly where his hand still sat feeling my thighs as I did the deed, my knickers now wishing they had stayed in my pocket.

Dom subtly slipped his hand away lingering on my bare legs until he deserted thighs to their satisfaction.  I must have looked most strange, definitely dazed, clearly confused as he stood, took my hand and lead me away to another room in the house. I didn’t even see the faces of the others we left sitting at the table, I dread to think what their expressions were saying. We found ourselves in a half-lit room with a single blue lamp in one corner barely illuminating it.  My eyes weren’t yet adjusted from the relative brightness of the vast kitchen.

I admit I was not unwillingly being pretty much dragged there by Dom although still in a state of post-orgasm euphoria, not to mention very unsteady legs.  Why are we in here, I thought, believing at first I actually said that out loud but soon realising I hadn’t.  He leaned me against one wall and kissed me. My next thought was, what next?!

(continued in “party favours #4: the real unreal” ……….)

party favours 3

© 2018 Emmaleela

5 Comments

  1. thank u for the compliment, and it felt just like that, words just have a way of bringing out something maybe not realised so much at a particular time, thanks again 🙂

    Like

  2. This is great. Love the “standing on the roof of a skyscraper looking down into the fall, overwhelmed by vertigo” sentence. You have a natural way with erotica, which is hard to find. Most of it is so unrealistic.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. There’s something very sexy about giving/having an orgasm while others are around completely unaware. Yeah, I’m wondering “what’s next” too!

    Liked by 1 person

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