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The first two chapters of this I wrote in the third person.
However, I’m far from happy with the result.
So I’m going to revert to the first person which is my usually preferred style; in this chapter from Cath’s point of view.
It all left me a bit overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with desire, with guilt, with uncertainty and maybe – although not generally part of me – with anxiety.
To have the first date, the first fuck and the first sleep over all in one is just not me. I know. I planned it. I made it happen. It was no one else’s fault or doing – not even Adam’s; however much I tried to deflect the carnal results of our mutual arousal to make it more ambiguous.
What it was about Adam that made me go well beyond my normal boundaries I’m still coming to grips with even as I slut shame myself and live in fear Adam will think of me as one.
But the simple fact was I’d noticed him and had been drawn to him from the first time his group turned up at the dance nights at the club. Yes there was a physical reaction. He’s tall, slim and all man in a way I like. Yes, he was triggering some deep seated hormonal response in me that created desires I couldn’t even start to control, but I’m not entirely superficial like that. In fact, usually I’m not at all.
But it was more than that. There were clues to the person he was. In the courtesy with which he treated his dance partners and in the clues I picked up from hearing what the women in his group had to say about him on the few occasions when they visited the ladies room at the same time as me. Indeed, there were a couple of times they spoke about little else; more so when they talked about how they were sharing him around for friends with benefits fucks and the results they got from that.
But nor does it mean it was all about his supposed performance in bed either.
And then there was just the pleasure of watching him on the dance floor. Graceful. Skilled. Controlled. Manly – it always seems to come back to manly. Always making the lady look good. And all done with that incredibly cute butt of his just calling out to my hormones as he sashayed around the dance floor.
I knew he had eyes on me as I danced. I tried a little harder when I knew he was watching. And there’s nothing the slightest bit accidental about our dance floor collision that led to us getting together.
That first night and morning together last week left me lamenting it was so short. Left me lying on my bed the following night aroused with the thought he’d shared that bed with me such a short time before. So much sex in so little time and yet I was still left yearning for more.
We spoke on the phone together every day the week that followed. The lunch on Tuesday was fantastic, but only increased my yearning for him. Yes physical yearning, but emotional too.
Somehow early in the week we managed to agree it would be nice if we could get tested for STI’s. Needing to use condoms certainly detracted from some of the spontaneity of our last weekend and it would be good to avoid that constraint. But even here I wanted to get the idea across early in the week so there was time for the results to come back before the weekend, but I didn’t want to be too obvious about it. I sort of wanted it to be his idea.
Come Friday, we agreed to go home from the city together, change at his place and head off to dinner and then the dancing from there.
We were both running late getting out from the office, so it was a bit of a rush to get changed and out to dinner.
I knew the Latin Band were playing that night, so my dress for the evening was the ‘mysterious’ little black sheath dress. “Mysterious’ was how it was christened by my friends in my own dance studio. ‘Mysterious’ because one of its features was that it displays a strip of bare flesh several inches wide the full length down each side, held together by nothing more than half a dozen narrow straps. It raises the question of what panties I can be wearing underneath if you can’t see anything that could be holding them up.
I’m not silly. I know that many a male has pondered that question. Quite a few dance partners have subtly (or so they mistakenly thought) tried to have a feel around for a waistband as they held me in a dance frame. And more than a few thought they might be able to get an up skirt view to answer the question for them; but a lady knows how to deal with these things, even in a micro mini.
Like my other dance dresses it’s made from a diaphanous Spandex nylon. Like the others, it has a plunging neckline that displays a lot of cleavage, and like the others it does show when my nipples are on high beam; very obviously so. But I’ve had to deal with my rather prominent (my school friends called the ‘famous’) nipples since maturity. I’ve ceased to worry about them; more curious and bemused by men’s’ reaction to them, which is always obvious however much they try and pretend otherwise.
And why the cleavage? I don’t know. I suppose I’m sort of a ‘if you’ve çekmeköy escort got it flaunt it’ sort of person. In my professional life it might be my skills (and a smidgen of feminine charm when I think it will work to my advantage). In my social and romantic life, well, the female body is designed to have a certain effect on men. Nature gave me the assets and a healthy attitude to life helped me frame them on a good body. I’ve always found it better to maximise that effect, at least when I’m confident it’s safe to do so. And on that latter issue I take a conservative approach.
Does it bother me men often seem to be left staring ‘down there’ when they’re taking to me? In short, no. It more bemuses me. Gives me a sense of control. Shows their vulnerability. Maybe even lets me wrap them around my little finger, by adding a generous smile and some charm, should I so desire. But nobody’s ever had a ‘hey I’m up here’ reaction from me. That’s just not fair when a girls got them on full display.
If they’re arseholes then it might provoke some sort of misogynistic reaction from them. For me, that’s like water off a ducks back. They’ve merely given me a heads up they’re not worth my time or effort. If they’re decent, you can see them really struggling, trying to do the right thing. They go to the top of the class. If they don’t even notice, well, maybe they’re gay.
I changed demurely out of sight of Adam, leaving the mystery of the little black dress still unanswered; helped a little by the fact he still didn’t get to see me in the full glare of normal household lighting before we were out the door and back in his car. The answer was out there, I just wanted to keep the tease going as long as I could. And I knew he was curious – to say the least. He’d done his share of feeling about for the answer when we were last dancing close.
Like our last one, like our telephone conversations and even like the shared trip home that night, dinner was an absolute joy. Even as we talked about something as potentially boring as our week at work, the conversation flowed easily and often bordering on hilariously. We just seemed to click together.
Yes, Adam’s glaze often drifted down to my breasts. Maybe unexpectedly, far from annoying me, his interest in them aroused me. In the warm room, it left my nipples tightened and once again poking out on high beam, telling him the effect he was having on me.
I didn’t doubt there was something similar hiding in his pants if only I could get a visual on it. Unfairly it was hidden under the table. Still as we got up to leave, I got the satisfaction of the sight of an impressive bulge in his pants. I even managed to give it a squeeze as Adam stood at the counter paying for the meal.
We were running late in getting to the dance venue, so our friends were already gathered there. To a certain extent, Adam and I getting together had sort of merged our groups. Now we’d introduced them to each other, they now sat at adjoining tables, were getting to know each other better and dancing with each other. All of which made our nights easier as we didn’t have to play favourites as to which table we sat at.
Adam’s former friendly fuck girls didn’t seem to take too unkindly to the benefits of their friends with benefits arrangement being taken away. Or at least Jane and Kelly didn’t. They were treating me more as a friend, not a thief.
Lucy was a different matter. A bit cold and distant. But then Lucy struck me as a little bit different anyway. I made a mental note to ask Adam about her.
As we intended, we spent around half the night dancing with each other and the other half dancing around with our friends. But for me the highlight was always the time I spent dancing with Adam. Dancing Latin with him, I put on my sexiest best, sashaying and wiggling my bum as I danced with my back to him, rolling my breasts and mound and thrusting the latter towards him when facing him.
I even bent the rules a bit to dance in a closer dance frame to rub our bodies together.
On the few ballroom and just slow numbers, our bodies melded together; my nipples brushing across his shirt as I ground my mound against the full erection I created in his pants. But as we danced arm in arm, bodies pushed together, Adam did partly solve the mystery. His hand slipped ever lower on my bum until a couple of fingers came up under the hem of my skirt and I felt them finger the back of my panties.
I looked up at him…
“Now you know.”
He pondered for a moment and seemingly decided that a play of innocence wasn’t going to cut it.
“I might actually be disappointed.”
Adam hesitated as if he’d suddenly found himself in a trap of having to answer a question he’d prefer not.
“Maybe it was the thought that I was involved with a beautiful lady who was brave enough to go commando in a dress that short.”
Still wanting to keep the mystery cevizli escort at least a little alive and not even wanting to admit the truth of what he’d just felt, I answered obtusely…
“Wait till you get the whole story.”
I’ve never, ever been so aroused while dancing as I was when dancing with Adam that night. It wasn’t as though I’d never danced with a lover before. It was when I was going out with Trent all those years ago that I first took up dancing and we certainly played the physical interaction on the dance floor for all it was worth.
But whereas with Trent it was more like a playful tease, with Adam it felt more like actually making love. My nipples and clit were so stimulated by our bodily interactions there were moments I thought I could come. And Adam seemed to have a full boner every moment I danced with him; all the better for rubbing my mound against.
But the time we got in the car for the trip home to my place, it was obviously both of us were hyper sexualised. Another fuck feast was clearly ahead of us. I spent the whole trip with my hand down the front of Adam’s pants wrapped around his erection; enjoying the feel of it throbbing in my palm, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum onto my wrist.
Entering my place was almost a rerun of the previous week; full on pashing the moment we were in the door and Adam had dropped his overnight bag and then a shuffle to the bedroom as we continued to pash in full body contact. His shirt was left behind in the hallway and the last few steps were made with his pants around his ankles as I played with his now exposed manhood.
But to prolong the mystery I didn’t cooperate with Adam’s first attempt, as we traversed the hallway, to lift my dress of; instead repositioning his hand on my breast to play with still covered nipples as our bodies squirmed against each other in passion and our mouths were glued together as we all but tried to exchange tongues. Not that the flimsy, stretchy covering the dress provided to my nipples did much in the way of hiding anything.
As we backed up against the bed, I quickly dove down on him to get rid of his shoes and pants and to shake off my own heels, giving his balls a play and the length of his shaft a single lick as I stood back up against him.
Only then I surrendered to the ‘reveal’. Adam’s hands had been all over me all night. Feeling up my body through the thin, tightly stretched material of my dress was clearly no burden to him. And to be fair my hands were no less all over him.
But I knew there were things – well one thing – about this dress that had teased him ever since he first laid eyes on me in it. Now the tease – at least that associated with a lack of knowledge – was about to be over. Mind you, that might be substituted by a different form of tease. Something blatantly sexual.
Adam put his hand under the bottom hem of the dress, lifting it as far as the top of my panties. With our mouths still fully engaged, for the moment he had to be satisfied with what his hands communicated to him. He felt out the leg hems of the panties, felt the way the narrow back panel folded into my bum crack, then felt out the front; measuring just how much of my projecting mound the narrow front piece left exposed as he rubbed his fingers along it; giving my crease a good firm two finger grope and my clit a momentary feel up as he did so.
Then I could feel him testing out the waistband holding them up; no doubt surprised he could feel what he’d never been able to see. His pashing became more intense, as if his arousal was boiling over; probably not helped by my hand being wrapped around his shaft.
His hands moved back under the lower hem of my dress, lifting it up and off over my head.
Almost as soon as he’d dropped it to the floor, he picked me up and I found myself laid out on the bed.
Adam didn’t even bother to go back to kissing me. Kneeling alongside my chest, with my hand still wrapped around his manhood and lightly jerking it, he bent down to suck my left nipple while his hand slid down my stomach and over the waistband of my panties, where he pushed the gusset into my crease and started stimulating my clit.
I love the way Adam sucks my projecting nipples, the puffy areola under it and even part of my breast into his mouth, bends it up against the roof of his mouth and rubs his tongue along. It drives me wild. It can drive me to orgasm if his does it long enough; and sometimes that’s not very long.
But not surprisingly, on this night, Adam’s fascination was for once directed somewhere else. Directed instead at what he’d managed to feel but not yet get a good look at. Even as he sucked in turn my nipples and raised them both to their towering best, I could see his eyes contorted to look down along my body.
After bringing both my nipples up, he kissed down my body as his hand caressed gently ahead of it until his face loitered over my prominently raised mound; or rather the erenköy escort rather brief pair of black bikini pants that partly covered it.
By now, no doubt, he could see the secret to the apparent magic of the self-sustaining swim panties; a single, narrow clear elastic strap. Fashionable for a while as the path to bikini strap free suntans, it was perfect for my purpose. Not so tight that it gave itself away by indenting my skin, mostly hidden under one of the dress’s side straps, it was thin enough not to create a bulge where you’d expect to see a waistband.
With the narrow back piece drawn into my butt and a front piece that didn’t fully cover my mound, it also left no visible pantie line.
In the darkened light of a dance floor it was all but undetectable by anyone who wasn’t given the sort of intimate access that only Adam and Trent had been given so far.
It had driven men wild with curiosity every time I’d worn that black dress; even though I knew it risked attention from those, bolder than Adam who, even in this day and age, thought they could get away with more of a grope than was appropriate between strangers to find the answer. What they quickly found out was my hands were faster than theirs and I wasn’t afraid to tell them to act like a gentleman.
But predictably, once the secret is discovered, it fades to unimportance.
What I quickly discovered, based on a sample size of two, was that panties as sexualised as the ones I was wearing (at least, according to Trent, when the panties are covering a mound as pronounced and sexy as mine) have a fascination to men all of their own.
Instead of just ripping my panties off and getting down to it, Adam paused matters to play.
He ran his finger repeated along the bare flesh of the mound exposed out the side of the panties. This is the same style I wear to the beach, so it was devoid of hair. Indeed, with my mound projecting as it does I’d long since discovered it was difficult to make tightly fitted bikinis look good unless the whole mound is hair free; or at least brought back to a very shortly trimmed landing strip.
Adam bent over and kissed the mound as he continued to finger the bare flesh of each side. As he lifted his mouth off it, he ran his fingers flat along the length of the top surface, moving from the mound itself to run along the top of my crease; in effect along the top of my aroused and separated labia.
That sort of stimulation can – in fact does – drive me wild; although ‘crazy’ would be equally appropriate. It teases; stimulating but without satisfying. It creates an itch without scratching it.
It’s a fine line between lifting your hips in sexual ecstasy and telling Adam to get the fuck on with it.
I submitted to my body’s desire to the former approach; cooing as I lifted my hips and squirmed about.
Adam turned his fingers and stroked them along the crease of material that ran through the now wide gap between my labia. Finding my clit, he loitered there; moulding the wet material of my panties to the swollen nub as he circled and rubbed it.
I moaned a deeply satisfying moan as my hips sunk back to the bed. No longer able to reach Adam’s shaft, I just laid there, submitting myself to the pleasure he was inflicting on me as he played with that swollen, sensitive gland.
His other hand came up and fastened itself on my right nipple; tweaking it between two fingers to raise it back up again to its towering hardened exquisitely sensitive, stimulatory best.
I rolled my head back, eyes closed, moaning even more as I realised my week’s randy anticipation of this night meant the stimulation Adam had already given me made it clear I was headed for an early orgasm.
Adam’s finger slipped under the clear waist elastic of my panties and started tugging at it, even as the other fingers kept rubbing my clit. I lifted my hips, letting him pull the panties down and off legs I conveniently folded for him, anxious that he got back to stimulating my clit as quickly as possible.
I knew if he went down on me like he did last week, my body was going to explode.
He went down on me; moving between my legs; positioning himself to lick and flick his tongue against my clit as two fingers penetrated me to play against my g spot and his other hand reached up my torso to tweak my nipple.
Triple stimulated on zones that were already highly sensitised, my legs were soon quivering up a storm. Unable to do anything except reach the top of Adam’s hair, I laid there passively, my head lolling from side to side as I moaned up a storm, forlornly wishing I could drag out the pleasure Adam was giving me instead of going off quickly like a cheap cracker like I knew I was about to do.
Almost breaking Adam’s nose as I involuntarily threw my hips up, I cried out loud as my body exploded into climax, rocking my hips from side to side as I selfishly held Adam’s face against my crotch, his fingers still inside me rubbing against my g spot and his hand still tweaking my nipple.
After extracting every last ounce of pleasure I could from that massive orgasm, still feeling the contractions that wracked my groin, I let my hips sink back onto the bed and spread my legs wide as I pulled gently at Adam’s hair, indicating he should come over me and mount me. I wanted him inside me. I needed him to be the man for me.
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