Touch Me

He whispered into her ear. At first he didn't say anything--she knew what he wanted. And before she realized what was happening, he had pulled apart her blouse again, and released her breasts, to dance amok like glowing round candles in their descent. Yet she didn't move.

Relax, she swore she heard him say, but was it her own voice she was hearing?

And she kept her eyes closed, feeling George's mouth suck her breasts, and forcibly and quickly pull up her short skirt. She didn't move once, only gasped and groan as he grabbed at her, spreading her legs, and began caressing her wet pussy. He held her fast, assuring that he would not let her escape his grip, not this time.

She heard him unzip his pants again; it seemed to take an eternity, but it was then she felt his cock ram into her pink mouth. He was fucking her. Forcibly stoking her like she was a red-hot iron-forging furnace, stroking into her as he grabbed both of her buttocks for the simple act of leverage, to keep her in place.

"See, it's okay. Isn't it? It's not that bad. Ah, yeah, yeah...you haven't fucked in a long time. That's the problem. You're a little shy." He puffed like a horny toad, and she thought he would surely come, but he kept on moving, grinding, grunting and gasping, all the while pumping and pounding his erect dick into her, harder each time.

He was beating it in and out of her, beating his meat, choking his chicken, and he lifted her, using the car to hold her, and began sucking her breasts at the same time.

He bit her nipples, and she gasped and mumbled delightfully. But she didn't open her eyes, for she clearly and simply refused to do so. Up and down, in and out it went.

"You haven't fucked for a long time. I can understand," he mumbled, lapping like a thirsty man at the hard nipples, never once stopping from fucking her.

"I can understand that," he said again, puffing excitedly. He bit down at her nipple, and held it. She whimpered like a knowingly lost child, as he rammed her for good with his cock.

"Yeah, ah know y'all like that. I know you all do. Open your eyes, don't be afraid. Look at me. Look at me fuck you. Come on. Don't be afraid." He instructed her with these strangely and nauseatingly false kind words, stroke after stroke, with never any intention of stopping.

"Come on." And he rammed in, just a little further, finally reaching her special place, so that she wanted to scream, but she bit down at her lips instead.

He laughed, puffing and sucking on her breasts until they were raw.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered; and just as she came, just a little bit, she gawked down at him, grokking him, and he rammed it into her and quivered her roots yet again.

She turned away as he came down nastily, lowering his face into her neck. She could feel his breath against her skin, as he gasped suddenly and quickened his strokes, and then emptied into her, not before sucking her throat. She frowned as he did so, pressing himself closer as she felt the cock juices spill into and out of her sex.

He gasped, still sucking her neck and now squeezing her breasts with both manly, hairy and yet achingly smooth ample hands.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he said again, jerking steadily inside her, and then pulling his cock out of her sex. "Is your pussy still wet?" got said, and he touched her sex. She pushed away from him, quivering like a volcano as he pulled his pants up.

He looked her over as she stood shaking, trying to put her clothes together. Just as she patted her skirt back into place, he came close to her, grabbing both her naked breasts, and began squeezing them harshly in a viselike grip. Lapping at the nipples, he watched as she moaned and quivered. He caressed them again, and reached to caress her wet pussy.

"You're still wet!" He gasped this last bit of news with delight.

But then he looked at his watch, and disappointedly peered around the empty parking lot. If only we had more time, he thought. Disregarding the time, he fucked her only once more. He showed her how truly good he could make her feel. She hadn't seen anything, yet. And he wrinkled a steep grin, thinking of what he could do with a girl like her. He could teach her a lot.

He would have no mercy concerning the wonders he would show her, and the things he could most definitely do to her. Especially, if she told on him.

"Remember, I didn't do anything to you. You wanted me to fuck you. So don't go saying anything. You hear?"

Jessica barely nodded as he held her breasts, caressing the nipples, not really wanting to let them go.

He touched her pink mouth again, running a finger inside her. It was warm, and flooded with sexually enticing juices. He stuck his thumb inside her, and she moved uncomfortably as he rammed it in, and watched him grinning from ear to ear.

He squeezed her breasts, and then just as he ran his fingers into her, he released her, and began to button up her shirt. He backed away, as she hurried to open her car door.

He stopped, only a lengthy and deliberately symbolic distance from her, as he watched her scramble for the keys and scuttle sideways into the car.

"Same time tomorrow? I'll be here. Waiting for that pretty little pussy. Don't be late. Or I'll come looking for you!" And he licked his fingers, taking in the unholy scent of her.

She watched him walk away towards the elevator, and he turned and smiled back at her once. It was only when she sat inside her car that she realized what this new reality entailed. She watched George's face disappear as the elevator doors closed. She didn't know whether it had been a dream, or if what she had felt had taken place. She reached and touched the aching shelf and sticky, curling hair between her legs. She was drenched like a rabbit in a cold downpour, but it wasn't her sex juices she felt come away on her fingers, but a white milky cream, like frost, that surely could not be hers. Had she blacked out? And just then a voice came to her, saying, Peace, love, freedom, happiness. Forget it all, he just wants to fuck around with you.

Well. Not only was her pubic area aching, but also her breasts were wet and raw. She buttoned the remaining buttons of her blouse, and climbed out of her car, trying to recall the events that she had allowed to overcome her.

What had she done? Why? And whatever was the point? A void inside her felt relieved and alive, but at the same time, the part of her that had to be sane and rational was now feeling utmost guilt and shame. What had haunted her was finally glowing inside her. It was satisfied with what she surely was at last, nothing but a female victim, though she doubted it would stay fulfilled, or anywhere near at peace. What else did it want?

To fuck again. She heard herself hiss this, out loud. Had it really been her, or her newly heightened sexual and physical awareness?

Then, just then, she heard the elevator door open again. She glanced back. A part of her hoped it was George. The part that believed in a male God, and the sheer unadulterated torture of His female victims. And yet another part scarcely feared he had come back to rape her with that sharp tool of his, yet again, for he had said tomorrow, and goodbye. Now that she was awake, she was finally trapped. There was nowhere to run, and she knew this was what she deserved.

Had she wanted it, as he had stated? Had she? She'd fought, hadn't she?

The strange feelings resurfaced inside her, even before she thought she had them under control. Or felt they had been satisfied. She could imagine it, seeing things like framed colored pictures over and over in her mind; what she would say, and what she would do. It was telling her off, making her act in a certain way. And then she thought it, as clear as she could see his face, those pasty cheeks and that large male jaw. This was it, she felt, and trembled mildly.

His full lips spread, and she could see him smiling at her, as he walked up to the car with eagerness. But it wasn't George. Sighing, she was relieved and disappointed at the same time.

She was more than ready to come around, as the nectar between her legs was sticking to her pink triangle, soaking and drenching her pubic area. He wasn't much to look at, she thought, as he discretely came into her view. But there he was, and he was at her mercy.

She looked at his large body, the waistline coming over his belt and those hands she noticed were larger than George's, like no hands she had ever seen before on a man. She could only visualize his obscenely huge cock. Could it be the same thing, she thought with a devilish smile. No matter what she did now, she could no longer stop herself.

Her heart began to pound, and she smelled of sex, intoxicating the very air like a winsome perfume, far too profound to ignore it.

He came over to her, still smiling; his large mouth she could see devouring her wet cunt. That thought alone made her sex throb, and she knew she would go crazy. What was happening to her, she asked again. Something had taken her soul, and she couldn't control it any longer.

*

His large tongue licked his thick mouth, but all she could imagine was his mouth sucking on her sex. But she wasn't like this. It wasn't that way, with her. She was far better, she was a grass widow, and she was not that other woman!

This wasn't her, but for many nights she had refused to leave her house. The thought of dating someone else was...too hard for her. What about the next life? What about death?

She knew that if she would ever see anyone, it would be for all the wrong reasons. And now a different part of her was taking over her feelings, and her body. Throbbing over a period of time, it had her weakening, and she could no longer be reasonably sure of what it wanted her to do. Somehow it gave her the strength, enough to justify the virginal pain between her legs.

He was in front of her now, and he could no longer be ignored. He felt like a different person. She knew he had wanted her from the first time they had met, until George. He wasn't a sex fiend. Though he had his desires, he was more clueless about them. And although he wasn't very attractive, the throbbing between her legs had changed her low opinion of him, and all she wanted was the deeply personal satisfaction she had been denied for too long.

Alfred, for that was his name, smiled as she opened the car door and threw her things into the back seat. She greeted him as he came a step closer, and handed her a take-out box.

"Here, you forgot this. George told me you were still here. I'm glad I caught up to you!"

How infinitely strange is my life, she thought. She blushed.

She couldn't stop looking at him, and once even glanced down at his crotch before fighting the urge to look away. Sure, she had wondered about his sheer, unadulterated size. Even pictured his cock inside her, maybe just once. Then she bit down on her lower lip, swallowing back the aching desire to brush against him.

Alfred seemed to have not noticed, and made every excuse to keep her talking. He liked that, talking to her. It was one of his favorite things to do. Since the first they had met, he had always had something for her, Jessica thought.

She noticed this, and thought at first it had been something she tried to avoid. For some reason, it didn't seem to bother her now. Something in her was rising like an engorged sense of goodness, or had, and it was simply getting stronger.

And she felt guilt. Guilty for thinking, for fantasizing about him in sexual positions. Sensuous feelings stirred inside her, and awoke it, and it was alive now, waiting inside her, ready to indulge in the pleasure.

She'd thought of it many nights alone in bed, and awoke by the mere desire to act upon those feelings. The loneliness had awakened a new part of her she had never known. And yet, she doubted, not knowing of it. For she could write about it, surely, so she had to know it. She had been erotic, in another life. She had once been a porn star, a little bitch sitting and sucking cock, and slipping in and out of fantasy after delicious and delicate fantasy. And now she denied it, but it would not be stopped. It was out of her box, demanding it yet again.

She wasn't denying it. But trying to remember, and fantasizing about the adventure and how it would be. Yeah, that's what she did. And she wanted to start it again, but didn't know how, exactly. It wasn't that something was inside of her, hiding, but she was controlling it from getting out and taking over.

And she thought it out, inside her bedroom, lying alone in bed with the TV on and the dog lying at the bed's corner, asleep. The one thing alive inside, that kept her from feeling completely alone, was sex.

She thought of how it would take place. At first it was a tale, a fantasy unfolding like the secretive, naughty porn dreams of her creation. Unfolding, developing, and changing each time, creating the extreme sensuality of sexual delight. By the end of the fantasy, she was always so sexually aroused that she couldn't sleep...

"Have any plans for the weekend?" Alfred asked, briefly interrupting her reverie.

His large ugly face, uselessly flabbier then most men's, was plump and round. He was much taller than her, with a large body, and a belly more than well-draped over his waist. He was heavy set, with massive, hairy arms and legs, and a stomach to match his width.

She didn't answer immediately, gazing at him from her spot near the car. His monstrous height overwhelmed her, and she found the throbbing between her legs growing devilishly as she glanced at his large hands and fat, dark fingers. She was thinking of what she wanted those fat fingers to do to her.

She could almost feel them inside her, pushing roughly upward, deeply into her, the wet nectar spreading and washing down her legs. It felt so good, so rewarding to finally feel another's hands inside her, rather then just her own. To feel a large meaty hand or a fat finger run up her thigh, and into her sex.

His thick lips spread with a smile. Had he ever imagined her in his arms, his cock between her legs, as she quivered beneath him? Would he have wanted it to be, if it had ever been offered to him? She thought about it again, as she smiled back.

Of course he would! What else does a lonely, ugly fellow like himself have to wish for at night? Of whom does he fantasize when he's in bed with that dick between his legs, hard as a rock, pulsing through his shorts, wetting the fabric of his clothes? He longs for a pretty face, that padded girl at his job, the one whose breasts are awesome, whose body he imagines nude whenever he can.

The girl who makes his mouth water, the girl who makes his cock hard and wet. Yeah, and that's how he likes it, hard and wet, pushing up her skirt. His fat hands slamming it hard inside her, and he's there in the kitchen because he works at a restaurant, but he's alone with the girl in the kitchen, with no one to see them. Only him, and the girl. With the long pale legs and the nice round ass, and firm, plump breasts. Those squeezable breasts, with that silky white shirt melting over them like cream, and the pearly white buttons he longed to unhook. He could suck in those tits, devour them like cantaloupes, and he could fuck her.

Is that what he thinks? What he's dreaming of, lying in bed alone, all by himself? Of course it is, she thought.

The way he looks at her, what else could he be thinking? If only she could read his mind. She bet that's what she'd find, what runs in his head; she's bent over him, he's fucking her with that big cock of his. Fucking her in the kitchen, because that's where he works, and he's thinking of her. Daydreaming while he's cleaning a table, while he's rolling a cart to the twelfth floor, and dropping his order. She walks by, and he's thinking that, even now.

"Maybe..." she made herself say, softly.

"What's that?" he asked again, brushing back those thick, black, coarse curls of hair back with those large hands. "How's your weekend looking?"

"I'm not sure yet. I haven't been on a date. I wanted to see what that's like," she said looking away. "I haven't been on a date in...years."

This wasn't the first time she had spoken in this manner with him. She found herself asking why she had ever started. Was she trying to hint around to him of what she wanted? If she was, he wasn't getting it.

He laughed boisterously at what she had said.

"I'll be your first date," he mumbled, so softly she barely heard him. He was shy; she knew this, and he would never say anything to her about his desires. She knew that, too. But had she doubted him, she suddenly wondered.

Perhaps he thought she was out of his league. But the years alone had made her weak, and her standards were changing. Not to mention her new, wilder awareness was nudging her to summon him, to fuck him. But she wasn't looking for companionship; she needed sexual contact, more then anything else.

"Well, I'll see you later."

He made his way to leave, but as he turned she reached and grabbed hold of his large hand. He seemed to flinch slightly at her touch. He hadn't expected it, and she could see that in his eyes as he glanced back.

His lips seemed to part at her touch. She felt him shake as she took his large hands, and pulled them closer. It seemed he was about to say something, but then his mouth went dry, and she watched his jaw drop as she rested his hand on her breast. At once she felt the liquid in her sex wash out of her, taking all her inhibitions with it.

He gasped momentarily, but didn't resist. What was she doing here, again? She was standing, but she wasn't sure of anything, anymore. She instead let herself go. Taking control wasn't going to keep it from devouring her from inside.

Alfred stumbled forward, and without hesitation placed another hand on her other breast, staring at it, then at her, as if she was going to stop him. When she did nothing but press his hand closer, he didn't stop. He didn't even seem to know what to do. He was squeezing her breasts with no direction, hungering for what else he wanted to do to her, but couldn't get the courage to move and do so.

Instead, he fondled her breasts, again hurrying forward, almost falling over her. He dropped his face against her bosom, as his breath became heavy. She pushed against him, placing her hand over his small rump. Only then, given the indication, did he move over her, rubbing his crotch against her. Yet always with that gentle, shy nature of his. In fact, he'd pull away when he thought he was being too forward. His hesitation made her want him even more.

And so she unbuttoned her shirt, as he watched like a child being offered several handfuls of sweet candy. He wanted to say something, but the muscle between his legs had nailed his lips shut. Instead, he found himself stuttering.

Once the shirt was only a few buttons undone, he put his mouth on her whitely rounded breasts, and began caressing her nipples with soft kisses. He then gently pulled the blouse down over her shoulders, smothering his face between her large breasts. He pulled out the rounded melons at once, and she felt that large mouth swallowing a whole breast, sucking it hungrily.

She fell against the car, just as she had when George fucked her. Only this time, she opened her eyes and looked around the darkly deserted parking lot as he devoured her breasts repeatedly, to make sure no one was around.