Sensation rips through me as your fingers find my hips once more… slide up to my belly, and then further, cursing in circles over my breasts. Hardly touching me, it feels as though you reach inside, and touch the bare nervous-endings, each new circle moving closer to my nipples, and each center closer knocking more breath from me, my knees weakening. And still, despite the desire to close my eyes and relish such pleasure, I hold them to yours.
Just before your fingers reach my nipples, you pull away, leaving me frustrated, biting my tongue to keep from gasping my dismay. Your eyes hold a wicked glint, and you back up, leaving a step between our bodies. Cruel man. You smile at me, and then remove yourself from my view, circulation behind me to reclaim your chair, which you have moved closer to my behind. No words, no instructions direct me, and so I remain as I was: firmly standing, arms raised above me, the muscles of my shoulders beginning to throb. I hear you sit. I hear you shift. And I hear you exhaust, though no touch lands on my skin. And then I feel you, light exploding in front of my eyes as your gentle, commanding fingers press against the join of my thighs, below my ass. A gentle press, and I am on the verge of orgasm, though I fight to not lose myself so quickly to it. Silence from you. You push a little more firmly, and my legs, obeying your silent command, part, allowing your fingers entrance to my center. You slide two fingers forward, brushing over my labia, gliding over the outer lips without pressure to reach between them. Retracting your fingers, you fold back one, and continue running the remaining one up the crack of my bum, to that spot that drives me wild… that spot at the top of the crack, where the two globes of my bottom join. You press. I moan. A loud “crack” as your hand meets with the roundness of my right ass cheek.
“I did not tell you to make sound.”
I remain silent and still, ruling that I’ve been weak, despite the pleasure of the throbbing pain on my ass cheek. You pause, watching me, making sure that I will remain silent, remain still, save for your willed commands. A moment passes, and then your fingers return to the join of my thighs, sliding forward and back over my outer labia, your smooth fingers over my smooth sex, no hair impeding the travels of your fingers. Each course of your fingers over me encourages the heat, the moistness between my thighs, and while I know you can feel my pleasure, my reading, you ignore it. You are not touching me for my pleasure but yours. My eyes close as I fight the urge to press down on your hand, forcing your fingers between my nether lips. Before I have the chance to lose or win the inner battle, your fingers are gone, leaving me feeling desperately abandoned. The chair creeks, and I know you have risen. I hear nothing, not even the air move around your body, as you move, and once again, your touch shocks me. You slide your hand around my neck, grasping my throat in your palm, your fingers squeezing the sides of my neck gently. Your other hand, moving slower than the earth around the sun, finally finds my left breast, pinching the nipple harshly, evoking a muted whimper from my mouth. I hear you breathe. Your left hand releases my left nipple, and suddenly, the right one is pinched in your grap, another moan elicited from my lips. You breathe once more, and your whispers care my ear…
“I will enjoy this.”
The whole of me wants to melt to you, then and there, but I know better than to give in before you’ve even began. You reach up, slowly sliding your fingers over my burning skin, your fingers courses over my arms, and then directing them to rest in front of me, for the time being. I close my eyes momentarily, relieve and thanks telepathically sent from me to you. In the moment my eyes are closed, you slide from behind me, and upon opening them, I find myself once more facing you. Your eyes are knowing, full of intent. Taking a step back, you regard me, your head tilted to the side, as your eyes course over my form, from head to toe. I fight the will to wince as you reach forward, and then smile softly as you simply trace your fingers over my cheek, pushing my hair out of my face, and tucking it behind my ear. Your soft fingers continue to slide over my skin, along my jaw line, and then to my shoulder… a slight pressure indicates your wish for me to knee.
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