Kylee and I weren’t exactly dating, but we also weren’t exactly not dating. We went on what you might call dates. Friend dates. Maybe just hangs. It’s just that they almost always ended with me fingering Kylee’s perfect pussy or licking her clit or with her jerking or sucking me off. You know, normal friend activities. Bonding. No big deal.
It was on one of these friend dates that I took Kylee out for a “dirty soda” at our local 50s-era malt shop: Bassett’s Creamery. The elongated, tanned top bar ran in a slightly discursive, looping U-shape. It was lined with swiveling sparking red vinyl stools at the bar and a series of cozy matching booths on the opposite wall. Every time I went inside Bassett’s I felt like I was stepping into Twin Peaks. And Kylee? Well. She was my Mormon Shelly Johnson. Obviously. But then who was I…?
Hmmm.
Anyway, while I might have preferred the promise of a quiet booth, Kylee was a swivel-chair-for-life type of gal. So it was at the bar, with her swaying her knees–exposed just barely by her flowing white skirt–and sipping her cream-enhanced soda as she made slow, continuous rotations.
Eventually, Kylee leaned in close to me, a strand of her wavy hair brushing my cheek as she asked, “I’ve been wondering–what would you do to me if you could do anything?”
Maybe she was tipsy from sugar overload. She seemed almost giddy. Definitely horny. She showed the tell-tale signs: she was squeezing her thighs together while she punched the last remnants of ice in her glass with her hot pink bendy straw.
I rarely found myself grasping for words, but this was one of those moments. How the hell was I supposed to answer that? It felt like a trap. Was she trying to get me to tell her that, yes, of fucking course I thought about fucking her. Of being inside her. Well, my cock being inside of her. How tight it would feel. Warm. Wet. Sticky. I wanted it running down my shaft. Onto my balls.
Whew.
Was that what she was asking?
She looked at me with wide eyes, her lips sucking air through her straw as she searched for the last sip of blackberry syrup. “It’s not a trick,” she was just as astute as ever.
Still, I pivoted. I leaned closer to her, my lips grazing her earlobe as I whispered, “Sometimes I think about what it would be like to just…rub my cock all over you. Anywhere I wanted. While you just sat there, letting me. Not even touching yourself.
Kylee went bright red.
She was not, apparently, prepared for this answer.
***
There was a crack of thunder followed by a double flash of lightning, illuminating Kylee’s lightly tanned skin as she sat before me, legs crossed, in nothing but a pair of lacy white panties and a matching bra. She watched me carefully, her eyes betraying both pure curiosity and the slightest hint of a simmering fire.
You’re not to touch yourself. Only watch.
I can’t imagine she was terribly pleased with that particular wrinkle, but the thought of it excited me. I loved how horny Kylee was and I enjoyed encouraging and cultivating her lubricious desires. But part of me also wanted to see her forced to bottle them up. Push them down. Hold it all in even as she grew warmer and wetter and more desperate.
My palm was slick with lube. A small, shimmering puddle that I slowly ran along the length of my shaft. I grasped it, stopping to do a tight circle around my engorged tip and then pumping back down towards my balls. Kylee followed my motions assiduously. At first, I thought she was trying to show no emotion, but, if that was her intention, it quickly faded away. She was biting her lips, squeezing her thighs together, rocking back and forth. Her index finger was already tapping against her knee, clearly wanting to be somewhere else.
I stepped closer, pushing my cock within inches of her face. I kept stroking it there for a while, close enough for her to catch a few droplets of lube on her chin as I stroked more quickly.
Finally, I touched her with it. I ran my cock over her lips. They were glistening. Wet with spit. It made me throb. A sticky strand of precum stuck against the center cleft of her bottom lip, sticking to my cockhead as I traced a circular path around her mouth.
She gazed up at me with her doe-eyes, fluttering her eyelashes, teasing me. Her mouth formed into a small “O” but she kept her lips tight together, indicating to me that I’d have to push if I wanted to feel her wet tongue. Was I going to push my throbbing cock between her lips? Every part of me wanted to, but I also liked the thought of teasing her. Kylee’s hand was down her peach thong now, steadily rubbing circles around her clit. This would be fun.
Instead of entering her mouth, I ran my cock along her cheek, dragging a strand of translucent precum with it. She let out a little whine and her eyes showed me she was disappointed. She leaned forward and tilted her head, as if trying to catch my cock in her mouth as I continued to rub it across her pretty face. I moved upwards, sliding my cock towards her hairline and squishing my balls against her lips now. I followed the same trajectory as I did with my cock–teasing her lips, her cheeks, going all the way up to her forehead. A strand of precum broke off into her hair. I took my wet tip and ran it down her cheek, crouching a bit to run it along her neck, her collarbones…
Finally, down to her breasts. But I didn’t pull her bra down–even though I desperately wanted to. Instead, I pushed my cock along her cleavage, then ran it over each cup, teasing the spot where I knew her nipple was.
“You’re fucking killing me.”
Kylee did not swear often.
I smiled knowingly but other wise didn’t reply. I was heading down her stomach now, adding my lips to the equation, kissing her from the exposed tops of her breasts down to her belly button. I slid my cock beneath the hem of her lacy thong, stretching it, letting it sit there against her lower abdomen for a beat. But only a beat. Soon enough I was sliding her panties down to her knees.
“Just where they belong,” I murmured, mostly to myself.
Kylee laid on her back and shifted her hips into the air. It was instinctual at this point: she was expecting me to start fingering her pussy. I would have liked to–actually, it took a lot of willpower not to–but I was intent on teasing her.
“Spread your legs.”
Her thighs were pushed tightly together, but now opened without hesitation. I saw a slight, sticky glistening that told me that, yes, this was having precisely the effect I wanted it to have.
I slid my cock along her inner thighs, directing it upwards until I could tease that corner spot, where her leg met her groin–the inguinal groove if we’re being precise. Kylee let out a small, but needy whine. We made eye contact and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. So close.
I grabbed her hips. Turned her around. Slapped my cock against her peachy ass. Finally, I touched her, hand down that V, sliding along her labia as I pushed my lubed shaft between her plush cheeks. Originally, I had planned to not touch her there at all, but sometimes you’ve gotta call an audible. And with how fucking needy she was acting, well, I couldn’t help myself.
But, honestly, it didn’t take long. As soon as my fingers–wet from her dripping pussy–found her clit, I felt her start to twitch against me. She didn’t say a word, but she breathed more heavily. She moved her hips forward–against my hand–and then back–grinding her ass against my cock.
My movements around her clit were fast but consistent. Always deliberate. She was squirming almost wildly, ramming her ass back against me the way she might if I was inside of her.
I thought I could hold on longer, but once that particular thought invaded my imagination it was too late.
“Fuck!”
The first rope of cum shot against Kylee’s spine and she was a goner too. She tensed against my touch, her hand shooting down to grab my wrist as another thick glob of cum landed near the apex of her ass. She shivered. Shook. Wiggled. Whined.
More cum.
Still more.
Now a bit of a drip.
One last strand falling slowly from my tip to her ass.
There was another clap of thunder.
Lightning.
Kylee shivered with a final aftershock, looked over her shoulder at me and practically whined, “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping that fantasy from me.”
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