Fingerprints on My HeartbyChloeTzang©
Is he going to touch me?
His hand rests on my waist, hot on my skin. He looks up. Looks into my eyes as his hand slides upwards, a gentle caress that pauses below one boob. "May I?" he asks, again.
My heart leaps. Butterflies no longer migrate inside me. Instead, there's a black hole of anticipation and fear that unfolds, flowers, expands, fills me. "Yes," I whisper, again.
His hand, very gently, cups one boob. It's his right hand. My left boob. I watch as his thumb brushes across my rubbery hard nipple, pleasure rippling through me. Fingers on my skin, his palm, hot, pressing against me. His touch is magic, exquisite, like nothing I've ever felt before. We're both looking at his hand on me, although maybe he's looking at my boob. It's very small compared to Natasha's. Small under his hand. Very small and very firm. I'm not big and bouncy like a lot of girls are.
Eyes half-closed, I continue to look down as his hand moves on me, his fingers trace the curves of my breast, brush my nipple. His thumb plays with me, brushing backwards and forwards, my nipple responds with rubbery-firm resilience to every touch. Ripples of pleasure wash through me as he caresses me, pleasure that holds me enthralled, spellbound, wanting more.
He gives me what I want. His other hand slides up my back, under my top, he eases me back so that his hand is supporting me as he lowers his head. I know exactly what he's going to do before he even does it and I can't wait. One of my hands strokes his hair as his breath puffs across my skin. His lips touch me, his tongue slips out, he licks at my nipple, his mouth opens wide, engulfs my boob, his tongue swirling on me.
My hand stops stroking his hair, clutches at his head instead as I offer my breast up to his mouth, back arching, trembling as he licks and sucks at me. The sensation is indescribable, his lips on me, his tongue lapping across my skin, his lips drawing on my nipple, sucking at me, ripples of pleasure through my nervous system, meeting and mixing with that source of pleasure at the juncture of my thighs in a slowly rising tide of anticipation and enjoyment.
"Ohhhh." I can't stop my sigh. There's no reason to try, there's no-one in earshot, no-one here besides us and his office door is locked. No-one can possibly hear us or interrupt us. If they could, I wouldn't be sitting across Nick's lap with my top completely undone and my boob in his mouth.
His mouth lifts. Before I can protest, he's switched to my other breast with his mouth and his hand is back on me where my breast is wet with his saliva and he's cupping me and teasing my swollen nipple with his fingers. His mouth is busily suckling at my other breast and I'm clutching at his head with both hands and starting at nothing, my eyes unfocused, my mouth wide open.
Oh. My. God! This is so good. This is just amazing. Better than amazing. I'm in heaven. I have this huge crush on Nick and he likes me. He likes me enough to be doing what he's doing to me and it feels so good and I know he's married but I don't care. I don't care one bit. All I want is that he keeps doing this to me and I wish we were somewhere where we could lie down and stretch out together but right now this is good enough and with my back arched I'm pressing against him where I'm so sensitive and wet and I can't help moving and when I do it feels so exciting and I want to do it again.
So I do and it's heaven.
His mouth leaves my breast. I'm disappointed, but only for a moment because now he's urging me closer, holding me, his mouth on mine again and now we're kissing as his hands roam over my back under my top. My back, my shoulders, down to my waist, he's touching my skin, hands running everywhere over me and my breasts are pressed up against his chest, his shirt. I wish he wasn't wearing that shirt, I want to feel his chest naked against my breasts but there's no time to think.
No time for anything except what he's doing to me. He's breathing hard as he kisses me and he's not the only one. I'm panting. Gasping. When his hands run over my thighs and up to my hips I squirm against him and when I do that, I moan into his mouth.
"Ohhhhhh." My moan is even louder when it's his hands that grip me and move me against him. I'm so wet and those French short panties are so loose that I know I'm going to leave a wet patch on his trousers and I burn with embarrassment as he moves me. I don't stop him though. I don't stop kissing him either. If anything, my response to his kissing me is even more passionate.
Where his hands move me against him, it's unbearable. I can't stand it and I want it, I want more and where my clitoris rubs against him almost chokes me with the sensations I'm experiencing. My fingers have never made me feel like this. Never. My mouth lifts from his, I clutch at him as he moves me, I'm leaning forward, against him, my top wide open and loose, breasts pressed against his shirt, my eyes wide as I look blankly at his office wall and cling to him.
All the time his hands are controlling me, they grip me, they move me, they friction me against him and I want to squeal out loud because it's so exciting. Glorious friction as I rub wetly against him. I'm shivering and covered in goose pimples and I'm limp and I want what he's doing to me. His mouth is on my neck, kissing me, his tongue licking me, sucking at me so that I shiver and moan and cling to him more tightly, acutely aware that my nakedly exposed breasts are pressing against him. That only the thin cotton of his shirt separates his skin from my naked exposure. Somehow one of his hands is under my butt, lifting me, moving me and his other hand is between us.
Between us? My heart explodes in my chest as his hand slides inside the loose front of my lacey French short panties and cups my sex as his other hand holds my butt. No-one has ever touched me there before, but then, that's why I wore these panties wasn't it? So that he could touch me like this if he wanted to and he is. Oh my god, he is and his hand, it's on me, he's really touching me, his fingers are cupping me there, right where I've fantasized about him touching me and I can't believe that he actually is.
"Oohhhhh." He is. He's touching me!
Wet? I'm so wet where he's cupping me and his finger, one of his fingers, it slips inwards so easily as I part for him. His fingertip presses against my entrance, very gently, I'm hovering on a plateau of pleasure and anticipation and excitement and suspense and fear and longing that I've never felt before and it's so overwhelming. All I can do is cling to him and stare sightlessly at his office wall as I hang there, suspended in time, waiting for him to take this further, to do what he wants with me.
His fingertip pushes inwards. I rise in an instinctive reaction to that pressure. I can only rise a little though and then my thigh muscles relax and, shuddering, I sink downwards, bury my face against his shoulder as his fingertip eases through my entrance. Inside me? Oh my god! His fingertip is inside me and I feel him where he enters me and I'm so wet there, I'm wet on his hand, wet everywhere his hand cups me and my eyes widen as his finger pushes. My hands clutch at him. My eyes open wide. My mouth opens wide, a breathy exhalation as his finger moves in me.
"Ohhhhhh." My breathe escapes in a long sigh as half his finger probes upwards and he's touching me where only my own finger has explored and his finger in me is so much more exciting than my own. Bigger than my own finger too and I like that. My sex is so swollen and sensitive against his hand, the heel of his hand rubs against my clitoris, his finger pushes inwards even further, all the way, his finger is all the way inside me and his hand presses against me and I'm clasping him inside and when he moves, I feel him within me, gently caressing the inner walls of my channel.
"Kylie," he breathes in my ear and his hand moves, his finger moves, probing, stroking, moving and his hand under my butt is holding me firmly in place as his finger explores inside me and I'm having trouble breathing.
"Nick," I moan. "Ooohhh .... ooohhhh Nick .... Nick .... Ohhhhhh." I can't stop moaning. I can't stop my hands clutching at him. With my legs either side of his, straddling him, I'm completely open to his hand and there's no stopping what his finger is doing inside me either. Those panties I'd worn, fantasizing about his hand on me, well, they allow him complete freedom of access and there's no changing my mind now. This is no fantasy, this is real and he's touching me, his hand is on my sex, his finger is inside me and I want to bite him. I want to scream, I want to cling to him. I want more.
"Kylie .... Kylie." His hands, he's touching me, his finger moves in me and I'm so wet where's he's touching me and I want to see what he's doing as well as feel it. I lean back, away from him, look down to where his hand cups me. I can see his hand inside my panties, moving. I want to see more. I want to see where his finger penetrates me, I want to see his hand on me. I want him to see me.
I want to see him.
I can't move. Straddling him, his hand inside my panties, his other hand on my butt, I'm held, I'm helpless. Unable to do anything other than accept what he's doing to me. Torment. It's exquisite and I love it and I want more and I can't move and I want to.
"Your top," he says as I squirm on his hand, "take it off for me."
I'm kissing him. Leaning forward and kissing him and struggling to peel my top of as he fingers me. My only thought is to do what he's asked me to do but the long sleeves are awkward. I fumble to undo the cuffs, then, desperate, I tear my shirt off and drop it on the floor. I'm naked from the waist up and he's the first man to ever see me like this and I'm burning with embarrassment and with excitement, both my breasts exposed to his eyes. To more than his eyes.
To his mouth.
He lowers his head, his mouth seizes one breast, engulfs it, which is easy for him because my breasts are small. His tongue swirls, laps, licks while his finger caresses me inside. My hands clutch at his head, I arch my back, pushing my breast at his mouth, my mouth wide open, no sound coming out. His tongue swirls on my nipple. I shudder, desperate, as he sucks it between his lips, drawing it outwards, tugging on it with his lips. Pleasure ripples through me, his mouth slides over y breast, his tongue once more torments my nipple, swollen rubbery firmness in his mouth.
"Ooohhhhhh ..... ooohhhhhh .... ooooohhhhh." I'm sobbing my pleasure, sobbing my enjoyment of his touching, of his hand and his fingers and his finger inside me and his mouth all combined and sitting like this on his lap and being topless for him and his caresses are everything I've ever dreamed of. They're better than my dreams.
Far far better.
"Ohhhhhhhh." I sob my complete surrender as he lifts me easily and lowers me to the carpeted office floor in one quick movement. I'm on my back. On the floor.
He's on the floor with me, beside me, his chair crashes over onto its side behind us. Neither of us even look. Who cares? His hand has left me, it's not inside my panties anymore, he's not fingering me and I want it back but he's unfastening the catch on the side of my skirt, tugging at the little zipper there. My skirt comes loose, he tugs it down, down to my knees. I raise one knee, kick my foot free, his foot pushes it off and now all I'm wearing are my black knee socks and those lacey little black French shorts and his hand is tugging them down too.
Heart pounding excitement surges within me as those little lace shorts are dragged down to mid-thigh, exposing me to his eyes. The warm air brushes my skin as I reach down with one hand and hold them weakly. I've dreamed of this so many times, but now it's happening for real, it's not in my dreams and I'm not sure. This is reality and it's far more exciting but it's also very different. His hand leaves my panties, his fingertips trace their way up my inner thighs.
"Ohhhhh." I moan softly. My knees part at his touch, my sex pulses with a wet heat that has me clenching inside as the rest of me turns into a helpless jellyfish, sprawled limply on the floor of his office looking up at him. His fingers trace over the skin of my inner thighs, exploring, and now I want his finger back inside me so much. I want his hand doing to me what it was doing when I sat there, straddling him, his hand inside my panties.
His eyes hold mine as I lie there, his fingers trace their way across my skin as I wait because there's nothing else I can do except lie there and wait. And want. I want very much. His fingers trace their way back down, away from where I wait for them to explore me. My hips twitch. He smiles. I feel his fingers brush my wrist, my hand, my fingers where I clutch that scrap of black lace, my last protection. The last thing between me and complete nakedness. He doesn't remove my fingers, he doesn't urge them lose. He simply strokes them and smiles down at me and I know what he wants.
"Kylie," he breathes and that single word acts like a magical spell on me. My insides tighten, my sex pulses hotly, wetly, my fingers slowly relax their hold, fall away from the black lace that they clutch, rest limply on the carpet beside me. He's going to take my panties off me and I'm going to let him do that to me. I'm going to be naked for him. Exposed to his eyes. All of me. Will he think I'm pretty? I hope so, because he's going to see all of me if that's what it is that he wants.
His smile transfixes me as his fingers brush my outer thigh, hook under the elastic waistband. There's a pause, he looks at me, looks down at me. His eyes look at me there and his look, it's almost as if he's touching me. He says nothing but his fingers drag my lace shorts downwards, down to my knees. Just as I did with my skirt, I do the rest, raising one knee, easing my leg up and through until they tug at my ankle. His fingers drag them over my foot, down my other leg. I'd kick them off except his hand abandons them to run all the way back up.
Up over my knee, sliding up my inner thigh. My knees fall further apart and it's so natural to do that. It's something I should do for him. Expose myself for him. My face is burning, everywhere is burning, tingling, his hand rests on my inner thigh, he smiles again as my hips twitch. I'm pushing myself up at his hand and I'm so so wet there. Swollen and wet and so sensitive that even the air brushing my skin has me shivering with excitement. He smiles and he's still not touching me there again and I want him to but his face draws closer and he's kissing me again.
I love his kisses, his lips on mine, crushing mine now, his mouth taking possession of mine, his tongue sliding deep into my mouth. There's something so intimate about kissing, that intermingling of our mouths and lips and tongues and saliva and breath. It's as if I'm joined to him, part of him is part of me when his tongue is deep in my mouth. He's closer to me, his body pressed against my side, leaning over onto me and his chest crushes mine but his shirt is between us and I don't want anything between us and even while he's kissing me my fingers fumble at his buttons, trying to undo the ones I can reach.
His lips lift from mine, my head tries to lift and follow him before sinking to the carpet again. His hand leaves my thigh, he's unbuttoning his shirt faster than I can, finishing quickly, peeling and shrugging it off and now when he kisses me again his chest is pressed against mine and it's his skin on mine, warm skin, hard muscles, delicious harshness, crushing my boobs, crushing almost harshly against me. My arms go round his neck, curling around him, holding me against him. He's fumbling at his trousers, I can feel his hand working, his body moving and I know what he's doing.
He's unfastening his trousers as he kisses me. I draw one knee up, my foot kicks as I shake my panties off, a last shake sends then flying into the air to land who knows where. I don't care. They're gone and now, except for my black knee socks, I'm naked on the carpeted floor of his office and his trousers are round his knees and he's kicking them off and now he's naked too and his cock is freed. Exposed. Pressing against my thigh as he moves closer.
Hardness. It's so big and hard. My heart jolts, my breath catches in my throat. I'm naked. He's naked. Every inch of his cock presses hotly against me and those must be his balls, they feel different. One of his legs is over mine, his hand runs up the outside my leg, my hip, my waist, circles on my stomach, slides downwards and just like that his fingers brush over my sex so lightly. Feather-lightly.
"Oooohhhhh." I sob at this touch that I want so much, my back arching, my knee moving outwards, exposing myself. Opening myself to his fingers. I feel different there, my labia so swollen with excitement, hot, wet, so delicately sensitive. His fingers cup me, my wetness spreads across him where his fingers press against my labia, spreading me for the one finger that presses inwards. He's touching me there, my entrance, his fingertip finds me and I remember so well his finger there earlier. My hips jerk, my knee moves even further aside. It's so good to open myself like this to him and he's kissing me again and his fingers brush and press and caress with excruciating skill.
His finger has been inside me before, when I straddled his lap. I desperately want it inside me again and I'm half turning towards him, one foot on the floor, straining as I arch my hips, push myself at his hand in response to that racking need that grows and grows and grows inside me. He holds me, the heel of his palm moving against my clitoris, grinding that most responsive part of my body with a touch that in my complete innocence I don't recognize as skilled but it is and he's driving me crazy because I've never felt excitement and pleasure like this.
All I know is the pleasure of his touch is overwhelming and my body responds. There's no thoughts in my head now, no consideration of whether I should be doing this or not, there's just him and me and his hand on me, his finger inside me, touching me inside, caressing and stroking and moving in me and his body against mine and he's kissing me and I can feel him so hard against and I want to touch it. I want to hold him in my hand, clasp him with my fingers and explore his body.
I want to, but his hand between my legs has me at his mercy. My hips are jerking, twitching, his finger pushes, slides so easily into me. I can feel him inside and I can feel where he enters me, where I'm so sensitive and every movement sends little thrills and ripples washing through me. What he's doing to my clitoris is indescribable and I can't even moan my pleasure and my excitement. It's a struggle just to breath and when he looks into my eyes and twists his finger inside me and his other fingers slide wetly over my labia, slick with my liquid excitement, he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Ooooohhhhhh....ooohhhhhhh." The one hand that's not trapped under him moves down to rest on his. I feel his muscles move, feel the movements of his hand and his fingers as I feel them on me and in me and I press his hand down against me as my hips judder upwards. It's so good. It's heaven and I know I'm close to climaxing and his fingers move and move and move.
"Ohhh Jesus ...Ohhhh Nick .... Nick ..... Nick...." I sob his name as that wave inside me rises, crests, crashes down on me and then I'm lost in a swirling maelstrom of pleasure that has me desperately clinging to him as I'm swept away. Everything but his face looking over mine blurs, I'm seeing stars, colors, I'm feeling them, feeling that golden wave wash through me, fill me, leave me limp and glowing. I lie there, panting, sobbing for breath. Looking at him.