Just One Last Dance

I didn't want to.

Somehow, under your fingertips, my breasts seemed larger, firmer, swollen in size, achingly full, unbelievably sensitive, with my nipples even larger and more swollen than they had been. Even more sensitive, if that was possible. Looking down at your hand on my, I could see my nipples pushing outwards against the thin material of my camisole and the top I was wearing, and I'd never seen my nipples like this before. Never felt them like this, and it excited me to look at myself.

I wondered if it excited you.

That thought brought another, seamlessly. That hardness that was pressed against me, and I knew what that was. Your arousal, and my body shivered hotly, my legs suddenly weak, all of me weak, and hot, and sensitive. Your fingers brushed across my nipple, lightly, as I watched and a surging sensation of excitement and pleasure emanated from the light touch, rippling through my body, bringing an involuntary gasp from me.

Your mouth nuzzled at my neck, across my cheek, finding my lips again, and my mouth opened blindly to yours once more. Your hand moved on me. Your fingers found my swollen nipple, stroked it lightly. You took it between your thumb and finger and, very lightly, you squeezed, then tugged at it through the thin material that covered me.

"Ohhhhhh." A sudden involuntary reaction as a surging rush of pleasure overwhelmed my senses, my moan absorbed by your mouth as my back half-arched, pressing my breast against your hand, welcoming your hand having its way with me, as it explored and caressed and squeezed and tugged at my nipple again and again. It was so easy to let you do what he wanted. I didn't need to do anything. All I needed to do was lie there, and accept the pleasure that your caresses were bringing me, and that pleasure held me enthralled.

"Estelle," you murmured, between kisses. "Estelle," and your lips breathing my name were a magical incantation before which any thought of stopping what we were doing, what you were doing, melted away, ice melting under the sun, and there was no resistance in me, none whatsoever.

"Estelle," you breathed, and your hand on me, your squeezes and tugs and brushing caresses, seemed to feed and assuage that ache at one and the same time, every caress giving me pleasure, sending ripples of excitement that were ever more exquisite through me, feeding that desire for more that grew within me.

"Ohhhhh," I moaned, between kisses. "Ohhhhh."

Vaguely, I wondered how I could let someone touch me like this, so intimately, handling my body so freely, but that thought merely added to the rising tide of excitement I was feeling as your hand continued to roam freely over my breast, periodically squeezing and lightly tugging at my nipples, and every tug or squeeze brought a gasp or a moan from me. What would it be like to actually feel your hands touch my breasts, touch my naked skin, caress me even more intimately, and my cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and shame at my own willingness to contemplate that particular thought.

Shame, yes, but when your hand lifted from my breast and began to unbutton my top, slowly, button by button, working downward, I didn't stop you. I lay there, watching your face, knowing what your fingers were doing, and there wasn't any shame. There was fear and excitement, combined with a brand new mix of anticipation and trepidation, my body overwhelmed with a helpless liquid heat that seemed to permeate outwards from my center, leaving me physically unable to move.

"Ohhhhh." I gasped as you drew my top open, exposing the thin near-transparent black lace of my camisole, looking down and seeing my own clearly visible and painfully swollen nipples pushing the thin material outwards.

Your hand returned to my breasts, both my breasts now, because I was on my back, limp and hot and helpless as your hand ran over her them gently, cupped them through the lace camisole and then, slowly, very gently, your eyes holding mine, you worked the camisole upwards, and I knew what you were doing.

"Ohhhhh." That shuddering little gasp emerged involuntarily as you guided the thin lace upwards, exposing my breasts to your eyes, the first time a man had seen them. I knew this would be the first time a man would touch them, because why would you expose them if you didn't want to caress them, to do with them what a man does, and I lay there, before you, knowing I wouldn't stop you.

Knowing I wasn't even thinking of stopping you.

Your hand moved to cup and hold one breast, your palm and your fingers warm on my naked skin, touching my naked and exposed nipples, strange and exciting, sending another hot wave of excitement washing through me, delicious weakness as you hand slid over my skin, teasing my achingly swollen nipple again and again, every touch sending little ripples of pleasure and excitement washing through my body.

"Your breasts are so beautiful." I could almost taste the excitement and enjoyment and desire in your words.

"I want to kiss them," you added, your eyes searching mine, and I wanted you to kiss them too.

From your tone, it was a statement. You weren't asking me, it was something you were going to do, and so I said nothing. I merely waited. Waiting was all I had to do. You'd do what you wanted to do, and I'd let you, or I'd stop you, but I didn't want to stop you. I wanted you to kiss my breasts. Would it be as exciting as your hands? Would it be different? I didn't know, and I wanted to know.

Your hand continued to caress my breasts, both of them, now, and I found my back arching a little as I pushed them at your hand, offering them to your hand, biting my bottom lip to prevent myself moaning out loud as you played and teased and tugged gently at my all too painfully aching nipples. They felt so swollen that they might burst, so swollen that they did hurt, and I wanted you to tug and squeeze them again, hard.

I looked up at you, at your face above mine, looking down at me. Your hand continued playing with one breast as you pressed yourself against the length of my body, half-beside me, one of your legs half-over mine, almost between mine, pushing between mine. I was acutely conscious of your weight, and of the hard masculine presence pushing against my thigh in a long bulge. Even though I'd never felt that before, I know what that bulge was, and I shivered with excitement, my body reacting with a slippery heat that pooled inside me, at my center.

You looked back, you looked into my eyes, your hand moved on my breast, caressing me gently for what seemed to be an eternity, and your face drew closer. Closer still, until yours lips once more touched mine. And as you kissed me, your hand squeezed my breast lightly, squeezed my nipple not quite as lightly, and your leg that was between mine pushed inwards, pushed higher, and my legs parted for you, without thought.

Pressure. Your leg solid and muscular between mine.

My thighs parting, that pressure slides high.

Bulging hardness against my thigh.

Your thigh moved higher between my legs, pushing firmly against that slippery wet heat at the juncture of my thighs. The pressure there sent a surging rush of pleasure through my body, jolting me almost as if it had been an electric shock, forcing a moan from me just as I opened my mouth wide to you, and my back arched, I pushed my breast hard into your hand, moaning again as you hand crushed my nipple, assuaging that ache that needed so much to be assuaged.

"Ohhhhhh." Your lips lifted from mine, my head arched back, and I clung tp you as your thigh moved against me, friction and pressure through my panties, just where I was most sensitive, drawing that helpless moan from me as I drew one knee back, parting myself wider for your leg to move freely. Your leg did, bringing another moan from somewhere deep within me, and then another as his movements elicited waves of pleasure that surged through my body with a heart-stopping intensity that demanded more and more. I could feel my own flooding wetness at the point where his leg pushed against me, a flooding slippery heat that was new to me; a hot clenching excitement that made its own demands.

Demands that my body pleaded to have met.

Your mouth lifted from mine at last, both of us breathing heavily as we gazed into each other's eyes, and I knew I loved you already. Someone I'd only met a few hours before, but I loved you, and in that moment, I knew I was meant for you. That you were everything I'd ever wanted, and already I knew so much about you, and you about me. I wanted to know everything about you. Everything, and I wanted you to know everything about me, and I knew what I wanted as your hand slid from my breast downwards, down over my waist to my thigh, easing my skirt upwards to expose that point where your thigh pushed against me.

Exposing my little white panties, the ones with Hello Kitty on them, and you looked. You saw, and I knew you saw.

I lay there, breathing hard, not quite moaning as you slowly, so very slowly and deliberately, ran your eyes over me, looking at my naked breasts, my stomach, my panties. The way your eyes ran over me brought a hot flush to my cheeks that spread outwards, from my face to my neck, and from there to my shoulders, and, slowly, downwards to my breasts. Not just that slow burn. My sex seemed to pulse with a wet, liquid heat that held me helpless, a black hole inside me.

Very deliberately, yours eyes looking down into mine, your hand now held my hip, held me firmly, with a firmness that said I was yours, and you urged me slightly towards you, your leg moving slowly and methodically between mine, rubbing against me so that there was no mistake about what your were doing.

"Ohhhhh... ohhhhhh." I couldn't help it, those moans. Those sensations you created in me were so intense that I moaned out loud with each movement of your leg despite the embarrassment I felt

"You're beautiful," you breathed, through those moans, smiling down at me, running your hand across my face, tracing my chin, stroking my cheeks, brushing my hair back from my forehead before sliding your fingers down my neck, and tracing them over my shoulders.

"You're beautiful, I want to see you," you murmured, and I didn't even think about stopping you as you worked my top off me, and then my camisole. Naked. I was naked from my skirt upwards, exposed to you as I'd never been exposed to any man, and your eyes devoured me.

I lay before you, helplessly in thrall to the excitement I felt, the sensations created within me by that slow frictioning of your leg between mine, the aching firmness of my breasts and my painfully engorged nipples amazed and surprised by how large they were. How swollen. How much they ached. Slowly, very slowly, unsure of what I was doing, I lifted my arms, moved them, moved until my hands rested on the couch above my head, surrendering myself to you.

Your hand explored my body, my breasts, my ribs, down over the taut flatness of my stomach, caressing every inch of my skin that was exposed, running down over my hips to the hem of my skirt, already eased upwards far enough to expose my little white Hello Kitty panties. Your eyes held mine as you brushed the hem of my skirt higher still, slowly raising it to expose my panties completely. I lay still before your, arms above my head, unmoving, my heart pounding wildly as you raised my skirt all the way to my waist.

You smiled as your eyes looked down, and your finger traced across the base of my stomach, tracing that white cotton that hid the most intimate part of me from your eyes, and your touch. My entire body trembled under the touch of your fingertips, and my sex pulsed with that slippery wet heat, a heat that held me enthralled. Enslaved. Captive.

Movement.

Pressing against me, and suddenly I was aware of that hard bulge, pressing against me. I knew what that was, and that knowledge made me even more aware of my own unbelievable wetness as I lay there looking up at you helplessly, held motionless by the sensations and pleasure your touch was generating. Just the touch of your fingertips on my skin, tracing the edge of my panties across my thigh, and my hips twitched and lifted. My legs seemed to fall even further apart, almost begging you to touch me there.

And then you did.

Your fingertip slid over that thin white cotton, to trace the centre of my slit through my panties, pressing lightly inwards, pressing against the swollen sensitivity of my labial lips, a sensitivity I'd never before experienced. I gasped, my back arching, eyes wide at your featherlight touch, moaning out loud as your finger pressed Hello Kitty more deeply inwards, sending another rush of pleasure and anticipation and fear surging through me. You smiled while your finger continued its gentle explorations, teasing me with a slow thoroughness that drove me wild.

You smiled, and you lowered your mouth to suck and lick at my breasts and my nipples for the first time, your mouth assuaging the swollen aching I felt as I stared blindly upwards at the ceiling with glazed eyes, knowing what you were doing to me, but I wasn't thinking. I wasn't deciding whether to let you or not. The time for that decision was long past. Now?

Now I was experiencing, and it was yours to choose what I experienced.

You chose to move your hand, cupping me sex, two of your fingers pressing my panties into the hot wetness there, while your hand half-crushed my hyper-sensitive labial lips between them, so that my eyes widened, my mouth opened wide, unable even to moan as my hips jerked, half in relief, half in excitement, half in a futile attempt to escape the intensity of the pleasure you drew from me as your fingers firmly pressed that thin cotton deeper, the almost harsh friction sending shivers racing up and down my spine, and I knew I wanted them to push inside me.

I knew I needed you to fill the growing need within my body.

"Wait," I gasped. "Wait."

You drew back a little as I half sat up, and then I did sit up, and you sat there watching me as I stood and walked away from you. Walked through the doorway and into my little bedroom, to my bed, and I opened the draw in my bedside cabinet. The top draw, and in there, hidden at the back, was that packet I was looking for. The one we'd been given during student orientation, and I'd blushed with embarrassment as I took it.

Now I blushed with excitement as I took it out, hiding it in my hand.

There was excitement mixed with embarrassment as I turned back towards you, naked from the waist up, seeing you looking at me as I took those half a dozen steps back towards you. Back to where you sat on my couch, and my heart was racing. Pounding, because I knew what I was doing as I stood before you, and offered you my hand.

Offered you my heart.

And my love.

Your hands reached out, reached out, and took mine, uncurled my fingers, exposing that little packet of Trojans I held, my face burning. You took them from me, and placed them on the couch beside you, and your hands moved to rest on my hips. You drew me towards you, and my hands held your head, brushing that silky hair back as your mouth sought my breasts. Sought, found, suckled, and my knees almost buckled as your mouth engulfed one breast, your tongue swirling, sucking, drawing on my heart.

Drawing my skirt down over my hips to fall on the floor, pooled around my ankles.

I stood before you in my little white cotton panties, watching as you suckled at one breast, and then the other, alternating, your hands holding me, and now they explored my back, my butt, my thighs. Gentle slowness, caresses that set my skin on fire until I burned in the flames of my newfound love for you. Barely able to stand, I did something I'd never dreamed of doing, ever.

I found your hands, and I stepped back, drawing you with me. Drawing you to your feet, seeing you pick up those condoms as you stood, knowing what they were for, and that I'd given them to you, as good as words telling you what I wanted, my eyes looking up into yours as I led you into my bedroom. Led you to my bed, and stood there, not knowing what to do next.

"Unbutton my shirt," you said, and I did, fumbling at the buttons as you unfastened your belt, pushed your trousers down, kicked them aside, and peeled your shirt off. Your t-shirt came next, and you were left in your boxers and your socks, I n my little white panties.

"Bed," you said, gesturing as you peeled my duvet down.

I crawled onto my bed, turning to lie in the center, waiting for you, watching as you removed your boxers. Your cock sprang free, my first sight of a naked and aroused man. Huge. I remember thinking it was huge, and instinctively my hands moved to my sex. To cover myself? To protect myself?

You smiled, moving onto my bed to prop yourself up beside me, looking down at me as you had on my couch, easing closer, until your skin brushed against me. Pressed against me, and your cock rested on my thigh, enormous, and hard. Rigid with your desire for me, and when you moved to kiss me, I was suddenly afraid. Only for a second. The tenderness of your kiss removed my fears.

Your hand removed my panties.

My little white cotton panties, drawing them down, but not revealing my sex, because I didn't stop you removing my panties, but my hands cupped my sex. Shyness? Fear. It didn't matter. You didn't try to remove my hands.

You kissed me.

You kissed me again and again, your lips on mine, your lips brushing across my face, your lips teasing my neck, my shoulders. My breasts. Your lips on mine, your tongue deep in my mouth. And I kissed you back. Or at least, I opened my mouth wide to your and let you kiss me as you wanted.

"Open your mouth wider," you murmured, teasing my lips with yours, and you kissed me, and then you murmured, "you'll open your legs wide for me, too, won't you, Estelle."

Your hand moved to rest on mine, where I still cupped myself protectively, and under my hands, I was so wet. A slippery, heated, sensitive wetness I'd never felt before, liquid wetly oozing from my sex, coating my labia, coating my fingers, and I'd never felt like this in my life. The friction of my own fingers moving under the pressure of your hand was an exquisite torment that begged for more, and now you looked down at me, watching my face as your hand pressed down on mine.

"Give me this hand," you said, taking the topmost, and I let you.

Without a word, you moved it downwards between our bodies, guiding me so that your fingers clasped my shaft. I made no effort to draw my hand away. This was what I'd offered you. This was why we were on my bed, and I continued to hold you, feeling that long hard shaft beneath my fingers, the naked steely hardness, silky and hot, veins bulging and pulsing slightly in my hand.

The feel of him, of your erection, hugely naked in my hand, overwhelmed me, and I felt a further flooding wetness that made my knees fall limply apart. You looked down at me and smiled and you were as naked as I, and the knowledge of that, the feel of your steely hard erection and of my own heated slippery wetness drew a soft moan from me.

"Take your hand away," you breathed, looking down at me. "I want to see you."

I looked up at you, speechless. And then, slowly, I moved my hand away, to rest on the bed beside me. My face burned, and I knew I was flushing bright red, breathing hard, my heart pounding as I exposed myself, to you.

"Like this," you breathed again, your hand urging my knees to part, exposing me as they half-urged, half-forced my knees wider and wider apart.

I waited, trembling, for whatever would happen next to happen. I was naked. Completely and totally naked before you. You could see all of me, touch all of me, and I'd offered myself to you. I'd never exposed myself to anyone like this before, never had anyone look at me there before and it was terrifying. Terrifying, and exciting. Your hand stroked its way slowly upwards from my knees, stroking my legs, sliding over my inner thighs. My heart pounded wildly as I waited, waited for you to touch me where we both wanted you to touch me. Where I desired your touch. Where I feared your touch.