The After Party

My hand reached down and scratch my calf right above my knee as I raised my leg to curl it under my body. A nerves habit, I suppose. Masking my feeling of… Well, I don’t exactly know what to call it. Anticipation? No, I never believed anything was going to happen. Desire? No, it was something more obtuse. It was the overwhelming and looming presence of “what if”. It was the forbidden thought. The one I had tried too hard to keep in the back of my mind. The one blissfully ignored as equally by him as by me. The thought of giving into my own carnal instincts. I avoided Waitingeye contact by any means possible, hoping that I was not betraying my secret thoughts with my small outwardly display of discomfort. No matter how small, I had let that thought, that seed, escape physically, manifesting its self to the outside world. Although I was quite certain it had past the observation of the surrounding parties, the action only embedded the seed deeper in my psyche.

I knew his body was mere inches away. A thin layer of clothes was the sole physical barricade from my body to his, but the obstacle was much greater. I wanted everybody to leave, to have him to myself. I did not expect anything to happen that night. I knew nothing could transpire between us if there was company around. Would I have the courage to pursue him if they were gone? I didn’t know. But I was yearning to find out. The hour crept by minute by minute. I mustered my way through tedious conversation as my nervous habits became more frequent and more noticeable. Finally, I let out an almost audible sigh as the first of the guest dismissed themselves from the party. One after another, they started to trickle out of the room and off to their cars, inevitably heading home to their own small vices, their secret seeds.

Hearing the door shut as the last person exited, I drew another heavy breath and reached for the last water in the refrigerator before heading back to the couch to face my vice. The soft white noise of the television helped drowned the awkwardness of the situation. Slowly, deliberately, our bodies started to touch in the most unobtrusive manner. An ankle to a calf, as I once again tucked my legs under me. An elbow brushing a thigh as I reached down to the floor for another drink of water. My eyes, now as exhilarated by the thought as trepidations, began to lock eyes with his, briefly. His intentions were still vague to me. Uncertainty clouded my mind. The risk of such bold and unsolicited actions could cause serious repercussions that I did not know if I was willing to face.

BJI needed to look at him. Straight in the eyes with no reserve. I took that liberty. I took in his skin, his dress. His posture. I took in the lines around his eyes and the way his hand moved across his head to brush his hair from his eyes. He noticed my gaze and looked back, quickly breaking eye contact almost as he made. He gave me no signs of certainty. He left me with no clue as to how to proceed. As much as a craved for an answer from him, this was my lead to take.

I leaned over and nuzzled my head in his neck. I felt no sense of reciprocation. His body remained as still as if this were something typical between us. But yet, there was no resistance either. I put my arms around his waist. And moved my head deeper into his neck. I took in his smell as I drew my mouth closer to the skin. Soon my lips were barely touching his neck. I resisted the urge to withdraw my tongue and taste his skin. I moved my mouth up close to his ear until I barely touch his earlobe, finally drawing a breath from him. As I did this, his hand found its way to my thigh, right above my knee. It gripped my thigh intensely as my pressure increased and moved down and around to his back of his neck. It made its way up my skirt, stopping as he felt his reserve take hold, only to resume again as my caresses eased his conscience. I touched his stomach and his whole body tightened and quivered. He took my face in both of his hands and moved me further down the couch as he kissed my lips, our tongues finding each other on a flurry of passion. Familiarly, His hands continued to work their way up my skirts and to my panties, my breath was taken away as his two fingers entered my wet pussy. I held him close to me, breathing as steadily as I could as his fingers searched and gently pushed my panties away. I gasped when they finally entered me slightly, leaving me wanting more. I did want more. I opened his shirt exposing his bare chest. It was perfect. Soft and smooth with blond hair covering barely the center. I felt it as I worked my way down to his pants. Kissing his stomach I unbuttoned his pants to reveal what I had been looking for.

On my kneesI took his long penis in my hands and stroked it slowly, steadily, as I took in the sight of it. I looked up and watched him as he gave into the motion. His eyes were closed; he was regulating his breath with each stroke I took. His penis was so soft. I slowly parted my lips and caressed it with my tongue, circling it and tasting the entire thing. When I finally opened my mouth and took him in I could feel his body relax and give into the sensation. My lips and tongue went slowly up and down his shaft building intensity and speed. His body began to move rhythmically to the motion. I could feel his dick get harder in my mouth as it reached the back of my throat.   Taking me by the hair he began to guide my rhythm, going deeper and deeper into my mouth. As I continued his hands moved down my shoulders pushing the straps on my dress down over my arms, graciously hanging off my bosom. I felt his hands move over my bare breasts, his hands slowing over my nipples, drawing slight moans from my preoccupied mouth. Finally, I felt his body tighten, his hands pushed on my shoulders, and reached for my breasts as he released into my mouth. His moans filled my ears and made me light headed.

As he withdrew from my mouth he pushed me back on the couch, in one fluid movement. His hands moved between my legs with no pretense. He slipped my panties down my legs and on to the floor, leaving my soft, wet pussy exposed to the air and to him.