Covering all the bases

I've always been a very shy person, unlike my siblings who were very gregarious and outgoing. So it came very much as a bolt out of the blue when I broke the news that I had proposed to a girl, beating them to it. They couldn't quite believe where I'd mustered up the courage from, and to tell you very frankly neither could I.

Maybe it was FOMO or the stress at work, maybe my adolescent fantasies seeking closure. When my friends teased me initially about her I tried my best to push her away, but it's only when I learnt she was going away did I realize how much I was going to miss her, and if I didn't take heart now I'd regret it for the rest of my life. Physically she was pretty plain to look at, but intellectually she towered over the rest; I always had expressly stated my preference of brain over body; and maybe I was starting to believe it too.

 Even though we had informed our parents, and received their informal consent, I still felt awkward to even hold her hand. It was like I was in touching distance of the finishing line, yet refused to breast the tape. All our dates were initiated by her, and I very reluctantly went along.

That didn't mean that I was a prude. Ever since I came of age, rubbing one out was a nightly ritual without which I couldn't get any sleep. Though I was still a virgin, I had spilled enough of my seed for an entire clan to flourish if only it found its mark. My lustful thoughts were still going strong though outwardly I professed a disinterest in all things sexual. But to be very frank, I never harbored any sexual attraction towards her, and also was a proponent of the old fashioned belief that making love had to wait till we were married.

 But love has ways that you cannot quite comprehend, and I slowly began to notice things about her that I hadn't earlier. On a picnic to a waterfall with a group of friends, I found myself stealing surreptitious glances towards her in a bid to get a glimpse of some female flesh, when she was changing behind a makeshift booth made up of towels held up by the other girls to protect their modesty.

On another trip she had worn sweat pants that not only clung to the curves of her behind, but I thought I discerned the outlines of a camel toe up front as well, making me strip her naked in my mind during the nighttime masturbatory sessions. Though the guilt did follow later like a shadow, there was no way I could put off the pleasure that preceded it.

Living at different ends of town after a date she'd insist I'd leave her back home. On the scooter ride, citing safety concerns I'd request her to sit akimbo instead of sidesaddle, enjoying the sensation of her breasts squishing against my back and her perfume wafting across as she held me tight.

 After a couple of years of dating we had a formal engagement, and  having got my temporary license I couldn't hold back any longer. The pressure was building up below, and taking myself in hand was not helping to relieve those urges, rather increasing my desperation. If not all the way, I at least had to make a start to round up all the bases before we got hitched.

One afternoon we were alone at her home, the rest of the family having gone out for a function. She looked particularly alluring in a blouse with wide sleeves that afforded me flashes of the bra within, whenever she lifted her arms. I couldn't hold back anymore, and mustered up the courage to tell her that I was feeling sexually attracted to her and whether she'd allow me to touch her and feel her up.

Though she only nodded shyly in assent, I could sense the joy and the relief she felt, as if she was waiting for this very moment. I tentatively put my hand up her sleeve, enjoying the sensation of caressing her smooth skin. As my hand crept up to her armpit, clear of any vestiges of hair, she suddenly felt ticklish, squirming and giggling as my fingers probed further.

Now I was in truly unexplored territory, at her chest, my hands cupping the cups of her satiny brassiere, slowly squeezing them, not having the courage to go within as yet. She was clearly enjoying this new side of me, as she closed her eyes and subtly pushed her chest out to meet my marauding hands half way. Time flew as I explored parts of her yet unseen flesh, copping a feel like a blind man reading braille, not just relying on tactile cues, but the soft moans that issued from her lovely lips egging me on.

Her parents were expected back any moment, so she suggested that we go for a movie. I was only too glad to comply as the initial taste was so tantalizing that I couldn't stop. It was an English film, but for the first time my attention wasn't focused on the screen, rather on the adjoining seat in the practically empty theatre on a workday afternoon.

Though it was dark, and I couldn't quite see where my hands were going, I played it by feel, enjoying the smooth, soft flesh as my hands ventured into her humongous sleeves to grope at her bosom through her bra. It didn't strike me as strange that I'd already got to second base, skipping over the first, as I was enjoying myself too much, and apparently so was she.

Not just by the soft sighs of satisfaction that urged me on, or the glint in her eyes that shone bright even in pitch darkness, but by the feel of the nipple stiffening through the fabric of the brassiere, even as I caressed her bust. Though I was practically her bosom buddy now, I couldn't conjure up the guts to go within the confines of the cups just as yet, enjoying my first flushes of foreplay.

The lights came on a bit too soon at the interval, and we strove to make ourselves decent, smoothening our clothes, sporting flushed countenances even though there was practically no one around. We were glad when the movie resumed, not to see how it ended but because it afforded me a chance to resume feeling her up once more, this time crossing over to the other side, to the right breast to make sure it wasn't left out.

She was too well brought up to try anything on her own, but gave me a free hand and closed her eyes to better enjoy the novel sensations that were so pleasurable, sighing and moving her tongue over her lips sensually as I focused on feeling every inch of her torso, caressing her cleavage tenderly. The end credits started to roll and I wished the film was longer, though I barely remember seeing any of it.

I dropped her back home, holding her hand tight and when it was time for her to slight she was reluctant to leave my hand as well giving it a squeeze to convey how much she'd enjoyed our first petting session. Words were unnecessary when a touch could convey so much, and her eyes misted over, a little wistful that it couldn't go on for longer.

Later that night I had to travel out of town for a trip by the overnight train. But memories of what had transpired were etched upon my mind, and sleep refused to come. And in the darkness of my berth, along with the motion of the coach on the tracks, I rocked myself to masturbate with flashes of her fulsome figure helping me to cum in double quick time. A Rubicon of sorts had been crossed and there was no going back.

After I returned, I was obviously in a tearing hurry to see her again. She was surprised to see me at her doorstep early on a Sunday morning. The glint in her eyes and the wide smile on her face were proof enough that she missed me as much as I her, and desperate to continue to make out where we left off. But her parents were around, and the small flat afforded us no privacy to fool around.

She took me to the balcony, on the pretext of showing me the view, but instead of the panorama that stretched out to the horizon, I was more interested in the proximity of her smoldering figure that clung to me instead. Far from being passive she pushed up against me leaving me surprised at her aggressiveness, but thoroughly enjoying her body mashed up against mine, her distinctive perfume making me heady in anticipation.

I made a few tentative forays to her breasts, but the loose blouse that offered me ease of access last time was now replaced by a tight t shirt that barely a finger could squeeze into her sleeve. Somehow the feel of her figure through her outer garment wasn't quite the same, as the touch of her flesh. Even though her nipples had hardened enough to make telling points through the double layer of bra and shirt, it only made me more desperate to get my hands directly on them.

Though her father was  just a few feet away in the hall, the element of danger only added to the thrill of what we were doing. Fraught with the risk of being caught red handed, she was whispering a series of no's, to my caresses but her face told a different story. In fact she facilitated my exploration by taking my hand and placing it below the hem, directly on her belly button. It took all my skill to contort it upwards to her heaving bosom but I managed somehow.

Suddenly I stopped what I was doing and she was shocked that I had heeded her pleas even though halfhearted and her eyes beseeched me to continue what I had left unfinished. But she had not reckoned with my deviousness, and she was  in for a treat as I upped the stakes by suddenly lowering the zipper of her jeans.

Despite her vehement protestations my hand felt the damp gusset of her panties for the first time. Her eyes betrayed a mixture of terror and pleasure, as my fingers rounded the edge to go where no man had been before. Her legs were tightly shut till then but the pleasurable sensations forced her to spread them just a bit and for the first time I dipped my fingers in her love pit, enjoying the wet warm flesh which was way beyond what I'd ever imagined, causing her to moan aloud.

Maybe that's what caused her mother to call out to her. She almost jumped with fright, pulling up her zip with such alacrity that if I didn't remove my fingers in time, I'd probably be caught in a bind and cry out in pain. And before I could hold her back, she'd scooted out of there, and I was left all alone, the only evidence of what had transpired, coating my fingers.

I was far from presentable, sporting a hard on that was evident even though my trousers. But I had the luxury of sniffing her scent on my fingers, and even tasting her essence. It was like clotted cream only muskier, with tangy tones that I relished, I gave my sticky fingers a thorough licking and quickly disposed of the evidence by ingesting it all in.

The third base had been reached in double quick time, and wonders of wonders, I still hadn't got to first. The train of love (more likely lust) was hurtling to its destination, with gloves off, brakes obviously not working, it was only a matter of time before we hit the home run together.