Eden Takes Charge Pt. 02

​It wasn't far to Eden's flat, which given my limited mobility was probably a good thing.

I tried to walk normally, but the constant friction, aided and abetted by Eden's perfume and the sight of her muscles working as she walked, was having a predictable effect. I was painfully conscious of my hardened cock, the skin pulled back tight by the grip of my jeans, its head slick, sliding up and down, back and forth across my belly, with every step I took.

She made small talk. As I desperately tried to focus on anything other than the rising fire in my crotch, she made small talk. She said something about her day, about a conversation she'd had with a friend in the back room at Costa, and about her plans to go to Greece next summer.

I wondered whether she'd sunbathe, and then whether she'd sunbathe naked. I glanced over at her, her brief little top jiggling with her breasts' movement, and the muscles in her thighs tensing and relaxing as she walked, and, oh, that tight little backside. Oh, fuck. I had to stop doing that or I really would lose control.

My arousal continued to grow, and as we passed the park by her flat I was rapidly approaching that point of no return. I knew I wasn't going to make it.

"Uh... Let's go through the park," I said, my voice shaky, as if I feared the simple action of speaking might be enough to push me over the edge. I wanted to sit on one of the benches, stop the remorseless cock head stroking that accompanied every step.

"Sure," she said, smiling that smile again and running fingertips over my upper arm just below my T shirt sleeve. Electricity.

The park was deserted, apart from a few kids playing football some distance away. As we approached the first of the park benches,I said, "Want to sit for a bit?"

"Nah. This is fun." She grinned, and this time it had an edge to it. "Let's walk on to the next one". And she drew closer, slid her long, toned arm around me, under my T-shirt, its warmth like fire across my back.

I was approaching desperation as we walked on, her scent washing over me, her fingertips teasing gently at my side, and the erotic slip-n-slide in my trousers continuing with each step.

Somehow, we reached the next bench. She stopped, and withdrew her arm. "James," she said. "Uh..." was all I could manage. "I think you should sit," she said, smiling that smile which I swear got more erotic every time. "I'm fine," I said, lying, all my will focused on not losing control.

She stretched in front of me. Her feet apart, her hands in her hair, she stretched up, arching her back. The muscles in her legs, her abs, her upper arms all tensed together, and her barely-there spaghetti strap top lifted slightly, the curve of her breasts peeking out ever so slightly from under it.

She laughed as I tried, and failed, not to drink in the sight. "Dude. Sit." And she gave me a gentle push. I sat. And she sat next to me, up against me.

I could feel her breathing. The firm warmth of her thigh against my leg. And that scent. Oh, fuck, she smelled good.

"You're fine, for sure," she said. "But, dude, you need to sit." She reached over and started tracing small circles on my chest with her forefinger. "You need a break" She moved her circling forefinger slowly down, and if it was possible I became even more aware of my extreme hardness, my slick cock head rammed up against the underside of my jeans' belt-line.

"Because," she went on, her finger inside my T shirt now, dipping in and out of my navel, and sending shivers through me, "If you take another step," she moved her hand further down, tickling my belly right above my belt buckle.

And then she pushed her forefinger and thumb down inside my jeans, sliding them down the two sides of my wet, swollen cock head, coming to rest just on the rim. "You're going to cum."

I very nearly did. I have no idea how I didn't.

She squeezed. Very gently. Very slowly.

"Don't cum," she whispered in my ear.

"Oh, fuck," I croaked.

"Do. Not. Cum." She whispered again, commanding, grinning wickedly.

She rotated her hand, her thumb and forefinger sweeping across my cock head, sending waves of pleasure and desperation through me. And then pulled it out.

"Not yet." She winked.

I sat back on the bench, breathing heavily, and realised I'd rested my hand on her thigh. God, it felt good. I had a sudden, irrational moment of guilt, and took my hand away. "Uh, sorry..." I began. "No, put it back," she said, taking it and placing it back on her firm, toned limb, but further up, an inch or so from her crotch. I could feel her heat.

She drew closer, placing her arm around my shoulders and resting her head against mine. "We'll sit here for a bit. You'll calm down a bit, and then we can walk on to mine." She grinned that pure-sex grin again. "Cos you are going to cum. Just not yet."

(Part 3 coming soon...)