degrees of decorum

It was new years eve and I suppose you could say I was excited, as usual, as I love this time of year with all the possibilities of a new year and the pleasures that Christmas can and often brings. I always enter he season full of hope and perhaps some anticipation, but mostly promising myself to be open to anything and everything, or as much as I can be anyway.

This night met all expectations and more, a night with a small group of friends in a bistro which then adjourned to the adjoining bar finding ourselves ensconced on a semi-circular booth and finding myself hip to hip, thigh to thigh, next to this guy I quite fancied, a friend of a friend and who seemed, I’d hoped might be interested in me. I hadn’t drunk much but was already buzzing from the atmosphere anyway, the conversation, the friendly jibes and playful asides which served to bring us all closer including those I hadn’t known so well at the start of the night, including this guy whose name I now knew to be Steffan.

It was closing on midnight and it crossed my mind that if I was going to get a snog from anyone it would be him, and of course most likely everyone else, but most definitely him. I tried all evening not to come across as too desperate, too wanting, acting as casual as possible while inside I could feel the embers of warmth getting warmer and warmer, crackling and flickering and threatening a blaze. I was hoping I would spontaneously combust and wonder why I get so sexually excited and sometimes so quickly and sometimes too easily. I must be a freak, I sometimes think.

If it wasn’t enough that out legs were touching and elbows brushing, I had to hold myself back from looking at him too much for fear of embarrassing blushing. I was sure he must have been feeling my heat and I wondered at times if I could feel his emanating from his animated limbs, and what limbs they were, attached to that body that looked out of those eyes. I had to keep pulling myself back form the abyss of just throwing myself across him screaming, “take me, take me now!”.

Had I been drugged with some magical potion that made me feel what was basically so horny? But still, I kept what I hoped was a degree of decorum under the circumstances.

Then struck midnight and we all stood up to a mountain of hug and new year kissing until I found my lips attached to his, no warning, just turned and there they were, there he was holding me close and I realised for longer than a new year kiss would normally be. I felt more than a minute flow by while our mouth were still locked and by then our tongues seemed to have taken it upon themselves to make first contact.

I finally surfaced from the kiss that felt like way too long only to have him lead me into a corridor between the toilets, round a corner to where the corridor ended in the emergency exit ad then before I took breath he had me against the side wall pressing his lips full onto mine, this time even more ferocious and on fire. I returned with all that I had which considering it’s been boiling up in me all evening was quite a lot. He was good, very good, shockingly good, greedily good.

I gave myself completely too it, as I felt did he, his body holding me against the wall now holding my hands, spreading and stretching them above my head. He fell into my neck and started to nibble, bending down from his at least foot extra height to taste my skin which I felt flushed. His teeth scraped my skin almost threatening to bite me like some ripe apple or even mince fruity pie. I couldn’t stop my breathing galloping away from me in almost disbelief in this happening, something I’d vaguely imagined and hoped but didn’t think in reality would.

He felt as hot as I did, I was sure. I lowered one arm without really thinking and brushed my hand between us across his crotch which felt most definitely the warmest part of his entire lithe body, and it was bulging, tight in his jeans and I felt like an animal activist ready and willing to release his imprisoned and feral animal out into the wild.

This was like a trigger as he grabbed my hand again stretching it away and started and started mock-fucking me even though we were both fully-clothed. I was trapped between him and the wall I this dimly-lit corridor under the faint green glow of an emergency exit sign. We kissed and kissed, his hands were now freely roaming my clothing feeling my shape, my body now so alive and exploding inside. A hand slipped easily inside my cross-tied red blouse to alight on my tummy then over my black with blue lace bra feeling my small hidden curves and I didn’t feel inclined to stop his ravenous progress. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating.

His motions pulled open my blouse enough to expose my bra to his gaze and again I did nothing to stop this happening. So much became blurred and yet so much was clear, his touches feeling more like those of a dozen or more, fingers feeding upon my lack of resistance.

I’m not addicted as such to sex, nor am a nymphomaniac as I know I can go without with no problem at all but when it’s there, presented, however, I usually can’t say no, innate urges take over.

My blouse fell open now as he was fumbling the zip that runs diagonally along my black leather mini skirt, from the lower hem across the front to the waistband which is fasten with two studs. I feel on the edge of an orgasm even though he hadn’t quite touched my most intimate of places yet. I heard the zip releasing upwards as he got a firm grip opening my skirt for easier access. I had already removed my holdups stockings earlier in the evening when I went to the ladies being so warm in the bistro while we ate and not, as such, for what was happening now. His hands brushed and then played along my bare legs contributing to my uncontrolled surges of lust. Like a reflex I grabbed at his bulge through his trousers which felt bigger by now: or was I imagining it?

Having unzipped my skirt still held against my waist but now flapping open with his hand reaching under he grabbed my sex through my knickers as I had his crotch, though his grip with larger hands much firmer. His fingers teased for further access, the material now moist. His nail clumsily scratched my thigh. I winced and let my hands slide up the back of his shirt and dug my nails into his skin to which he inhaled through gritted teeth saying as though he would swear or call me a name: he didn’t but I wouldn’t have cared if he did.

I felt myself rising almost on my toes as he worked my inner thighs and I dug deep into his back holding on tight. My knickers were pulled to the side and fingers found their way inside my sex, easily moving between my tight folds now enticed beyond measure. He pushed them hard into me, lifting me, fingering me making me gasp at each insertion. I undid his trousers without a second thought pulling them open and his shorts down unshackling his erection which I grabbed and intuitively started to masturbate hard, trying to give as good as I was getting.

He was large in my hands, stiff, its moist tip lubricating my grip to slippery. He forced his fingers even deeper in my while lifting one leg to spread me a little and watched me as I closed and opened my eyes in pleasurable pain. I was so close and then I came to his fingers nearly fainting in the heat and passion. He took advantage before I knew it his hands were around the back of my thighs and he lifted me pinning me to the wall, spread wide he awkwardly lowered me onto his cock which failed at first to find me but soon enough I felt myself being impaled in what I felt had become iron solid, stretching my tightness making me swear, fuck, fuck, and then without pause started fucking me with such force and unleashed emotion.

I felt tears come to my eyes, my skirt open, blouse open, legs open, mouth open looking for more oxygen while he thrust his hips and thighs into my hips and thighs inelegantly and highly-charged having just has an orgasm and tender to the extreme.

My body was shaking as he pushed and fucked me almost into the wall as I once again eyed the emergency exit sign and worried we might get caught: how embarrassing would that be!

I was suspended and cradled in his untidy grip, back to the wall and his whole body pressed unstoppably against me. I smelled his sweat, his chest, I grabbed him around his back again and scratched and scratched, we fucked and fucked intensely, intently, my heart racing as though it might stop any second. I heard his doing the same. I was almost drowning when finally he cum with an animalistic moan emptying what felt like an unimaginable amount of sperm into my elevated thighs only then remembering he was bareback, nakedly spilling his urgent needs into me, up inside me some of which was forced out all the while he was cumming.

I buried my face into his chest, and almost cried with the effort. I was exhausted and yet still surprisingly exhilarated as both his and my thighs kept moving as best they could against each other’s as though ensuring he was spent, most of him inside of me.

Only now did the sound of the bar’s filter back into my consciousness and the fact we weren’t in anything like a private place where he held me for a minute longer, pinned against the wall before delicately, and somewhat shakily, I placed one leg then the other back down to earth.

I looked at him, smiled, we both laughed, furtively, looking along the corridor imagining any minute someone might come around the corner. He leant to my ear and said, “you still horny?”. Strangely I heard myself say, yes, to which he said nothing but waited until I zipped my skirt back together and refastened my tied blouse then took my hand and led me down another corridor……. surely I wasn’t after that still horny, was I?

© Emmaleela