Now What? Ch. 01byex_riter©
She was cute, really. Petite, tight – frequently blonde. (Although today she was closer to amber-chestnut). Past her prime? Some might argue by a year or two. But as I said she was extremely fit and well maintained. Tight enough to carry off the shortish dress, bare legs, and those quaint little ankle-high boots with spike heels.
We were co-workers but we rarely spent much time together. To be honest, I wasn't sure for the first few months – but now I knew the ring was one of those 'no vacancy' signs that can vanish in a matter of moments with no legal impediment.
"Busy place," she said, glancing around. We'd run into each other at the checkout of the local supermarket – on a Friday afternoon, when the place was chaos. "Any ideas?" She fixed her eyes on mine and smiled.
"They're all going to be equally painful." Smiling myself, I stepped aside so she, with her hand-basket, could slip in front of me and my hand-basket.
As I said, chaos. So it was several minutes before we got in between those rows of magazines, candy and stuff – and another few minutes before she was off-loading and putting aside her basket, squeezing her items up as tight as possible on the moving slide thingee and laying down the marker thingee so I could squeeze my stuff on as well and tuck away my basket. Then we were left loitering, so to speak, with time on our hands.
There was something in the mute smiles she kept flicking me. I'd seen those smiles a number of times, around work, but she'd always been going the other way before I could react. This time she was still there, right in front of me. The moment we got in between the main clutter at the tills, emboldened by one more flicked smile, I thought,' why not?...may as well find out'.
My right hand curved nicely to her tight slim tush. She went taut instantly, as you'd expect. But she didn't rant and rave, jump away and take a swipe at me...or even ease away. She actually held her ground – in fact, maybe she leaned back into me gently. I worked my hand gently -- and her lips were parted slightly now, while she made an effort to breathe slowly and calmly. Then she was at the actual till, and my fingertips, discreetly raising the hem of her already short skirt, and stroking the smooth flesh at the top of her leg, caused her voice to rise an octave or so when she asked for a particular type of environmentally friendly bag.
The shop-clerk seemed not to notice anything amiss. But anyone who knew her would've known. I knew and I didn't know her very well at all... certainly not well enough to be stroking the oh sensitive area where her bare upper leg met her apparently equally uncovered tush. Causing her to shift from one foot to the other...and eventually to reach back and take hold of my wrist. Not to pull it away, mind you. Not right away. Just to hold it and keep me from massaging with my fingers too much, because she was clearly ticklish.
Then she was through to where you pay. Not out of reach, really, but in a place where I'd have to stretch in an awkward manner. And it wouldn't have been discreet.
So she got out of reach. And stayed out of reach. And finished up at the till and left the store, without so much as a backward glance. Leaving me to figure she hadn't really minded. But she wasn't into pursuing possibilities...
So imagine my surprise when I parked and she pulled into the parking space beside mine, in the underground carpark of my condo. I hadn't even noticed but she must've followed me.
I climbed out, smiling. She came at me, trying to slap my face. I caught the wrist. She had a go with the other hand. Managed to connect, once, before I turned it into a wrestle, controlling both of her slim wrists. It was almost surreal. She wasn't making any noise. And there seemed to be a wry twinkle in her eyes. But she tried every which way, including trying to connect with my shins using those cute little ankle boots.
It was a flat out scrap for a while. Until my height and weight told, and I managed to get both of her wrists trapped in my right hand...which freed my left hand to capture her chin, holding her for the kiss. And the kiss went on and on because she wouldn't let go. And it was her who used tongue first. And no, I did not ease my grip on her wrists because she is female and therefore likely to be up to something given half a chance.
Instead, once we were firmly molded together, so I could feel her nipples against my lower chest, and she could no doubt feel my erection – in fact, she was working one tight thigh over my erection, now that I stopped to take note – I moved my free hand around behind her, lifting the hem of her skirt, taking hold of her thong and peeling it down to the limit of my reach...
Bastard! I knew my panties were down across my thighs because the draft in that carpark was damned cold and my pussy was fully exposed.
And then I got a real jolt- the high voltage crack!
Bastard! He had his finger, maybe two, three?.., inside my molten wet pussy – and he was pumping me! It was like being on a standing rack. He was stretching me up on tiptoe with one hand and all the while he was stretching and pumping my hyper sensitized pussy with the other.
Bastard! Sorry, girls, I know it's letting the side down. And I've never consciously had a rape fantasy. But he had me. When his thumb found my little hooded clit while his fingers were pumping me...well, it was instant. I was cumming, cumming fast, and cumming so so so hard...!
She ripped her mouth clear to moan, and to writhe and wriggle. Could she writhe and wriggle! Wow! Her eyes were fluttering...and they went on fluttering. I'd always wanted to rip an orgasm from a woman, the right woman. I never actually saw it happening in a carpark.
She was helpless. Very much so. When I slowed the pumping of my fingers she sped the action of her hips to make up the pace. When I moved my thumb an inch or so, away from contact, she arched her back into the spectacular bow, to regain direct contact with her clit.
And then her thighs closed like vices. And she came, again, and again, I think. And everything was soaking wet because she'd squirted. And I'd only had two women actually squirt, so this was impressive...and took a minute for me to figure out what was going on.
I turned her and pressed her into place, her breasts and thighs against the back of the car. Then I used my foot to rip her thong down and pin it to the concrete until she had kicked them off, while my free hand got her dress up and out of the way, and her bra to one side, and my foot became useful again in spreading her feet and therefore her legs...and I had to try a few times...she's short, as I said, and I had to bend and find the angle...
It might have been the angle but he seemed huge. He was filling my pussy from behind and then I was on the rack again, this time facing away from him...and he was pounding me again, this time with his cock driving up into my pussy...
And I was cumming again. Hard. So fast and so hard I turned my head and to keep from making unnecessary noise clamped my teeth on his arm...
At first I thought she was trying to get me to back off. The pain in my upper arm was searing. And I certainly didn't want to hurt her, or force her...not really.
So I started to ease off. But she chased me, literally, the tight little tush coming back after me and the pussy still clamped down fiercely
And she let go of my arm with her teeth and her breathing went ragged and she was into that rhythmic moan, over and over and over: every part of her, including the sound, timed to each thrust. While her pussy just kept clamping down and clamping down...and I tried to make a mental note, I think it was to ask her 'how many?'...
But I was swelling by then and I wasn't going to be able to hold on and then I was pumping, gushing, while my personal space went black... And I think if I hadn't been so locked to her, if we hadn't been so locked together, I might have gone to one knee – right there, in that cold drafty carpark....
I'm not sure how we got there, but we cuddled together between her car and mine. I was sitting on the concrete, my back braced against her car...???...yes, her car – I checked...and she was curled up across my lap, her head nestled under my chin. She was a good fit in that position.
Moving the amber-chestnut hair away from my mouth, I tried to remember if I used her hair as a grip at one point. But it didn't seem to matter much. She moved her head out a few inches and smiled up at me, her face flushed and her eyes slightly outsized and de-focused.
Then they focused. "Well," she cleared her throat, "I'm glad I followed you back here. I think."
"But I guess it's wham-bam, etc."
That certainly explained a lot. Emotionally wounded by experience. But at our age, who wasn't?--one way or another? Shrugging, I lifted the hand cupped in mine and made a point of kissing the ring finger. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but nothing else happened. She didn't say anything. So I prised one finger out from the rest and slipped it into my mouth, sucking on it....
Bastard. That ripped a tiny tremor from my lower belly. Oh, let's be honest, that sucked digit goes straight to the main button. It makes your toes curl and your breath catch and...I pulled the finger away before it got right out of hand. Again. Pun intended.
The ring simply slipped off, of course. But my one ace was that he obviously didn't know that. And I wasn't sure I wanted to go there, just yet. Not until my head had cleared a little – and probably for sure not then.
I was also getting lost in those eyes. Bastard. So I tucked my head back against his chest, tried to get some edge by measuring his breathing and heart rate.
It wasn't helping.
And the bastard clearly knew enough to keep his mouth shut. To make me work it out for myself. "I have dinner in my car," I said quietly, finally. "But could probably stretch it to two."
"How do you know I have the right stuff in my kitchen?"
No-that's not quite what I was thinking..."I was thinking my place, actually." Was I? Did I want him to know more than I lived somewhere on this side of town? Get it together, girl...for chrisake. When did he work his other hand back under my ass? He'd know I was soaked through! Stupid, he knew that already.
Get it together! Wriggling a bit, to get his fingertips away from my pussy for the moment, so I could think a little bit, I looked up at him and said, "We should probably talk. Dinner might work for that."
"Sounds reasonable," He smiled.
I liked that smile. I liked the way I fit across his lap. I liked the fact he was already swelling again...and no spring chicken this one, so it did cross my mind he might be using those little pills? But if so, was he using them on spec or...? And that was a bad path, for the moment. I knew I liked him. Around work. Calm, funny, to a point, good looking...but that was all at a distance. Then he was hefting me to my feet. Clearly still quite strong...ummm, my mind ranged back to how helpless I'd been in his grip, how thoroughly I'd been pumped, both ways...
"So you won't mind a strange woman ferreting around in your kitchen then?" I brushed at my dress, started to reach back for the zipper.
"Provided you lose the ring and clothes you can ferret around anywhere in my flat you want."
Bastard. My eyes fixed on his smile. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and to my pussy. Bastard! He was serious. NO, couldn't be...could he?
He was, you know. BASTARD! Now what...?