“If you don’t help me choose, I’ll just have to go naked. Imagine how people will stare…”
“Go naked. Honestly I don’t care. But then don’t blame me if I bend you over in the back row and screw you senseless. Just hurry up and put your damn shoes on so we can go…”
It’s just a little game we’re playing. Truly I’m not a high-maintenance girly, and can get dressed in five minutes. But my best friend Tony is enjoying watching me in my lacy bra and panties, trying things on, dressing and undressing, turning it into a little striptease. He’s pretending to get more and more exasperated; I wonder how long it will take before he grabs me and throws me down on the bed.
My friend Jana, who owns the dance studio where I work out, taught me some proper stripper moves and I can turn it on when I want to, but this is more of a subtle tease; just a shimmy of my hips as I wriggle out of yet another dress, a little dip and sway, a hint of bump and grind as I turn to pull an outfit from the closet.
“Oh yeah baby… stay just like that…” Tony growls as I bend over to grab some high heels from the floor of the closet, my ass pointing directly towards him. I look over my shoulder, see his hand at his crotch.
“I thought you wanted me to hurry up?” I ask innocently.
“You know your ass drives me crazy. Come and sit on my face.”
“Oh, you’re such a sweet talker. I don’t want to make us late though. Should I wear my gold Manolos or the red Jimmy Choos?”
“Wear those crotchless panties I bought you, then you can sit on my cock in the movie theater.”
“Never gonna happen, you know I don’t do PDAs.” I’m trying to sound scandalized, but I’m amused by how turned on he’s getting.
I keep up the tease until Tony cracks and pulls me onto the bed, rolling on top of me, and then we’re dry humping like horny teenagers, rubbing and grinding together as we kiss. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull his crotch tighter against me. He’s so hard. Through my flimsy panties, the rough friction of his jeans against my pussy is so intensely stimulating, I’m sure I’m leaving a wet patch there.
Usually I need penetration to get off — I’m a G-spot girl — but the seam of his zipper is stroking right on my sweet spot, and my clit’s throbbing, and the sticky frottage feels insanely good. The heat and pressure are swelling up, and his thrusting hips hit the perfect rhythm, the smell of his cologne the last thing I’m aware of before a sudden orgasm blasts through me.
“I haven’t cum in my pants since the day I found my older brother’s porn stash, I’m sure as hell not gonna start now,” Tony mumbles, rolling off me so he can unzip his jeans — sure enough the crotch is damp with evidence of my arousal — and push them down to his knees. I straddle him before he can pull his shorts down though; I like the way they look, stretched over his erection, barely containing it.
I rock my hips to stroke my juiced-up pussy the length of his cock, only soaked silk and damp cotton between us. His pelvis bucks up to meet mine as he groans. Slowly and deliberately, I spread my thighs wider so my pussy lips start to peel open to hug his shaft; then grind down, working the tight, hot channel up and down the length of his cock. I linger when I feel the head against my clit, circling around on it, then slide back down. Then again, and again. I’m doing it to drive him crazy, and judging by his groans it’s working, but I guess it’s having the same effect on me because I can feel another orgasm approaching…
He reaches between us and tugs his shorts down, his cock springing out rock hard and glistening at the tip. Hands squeezing my ass cheeks to pull me down onto him, he fucks the soaked, silk-covered groove between my lips, the fabric so wet there’s barely any friction at all now, just a delicious sliding pressure that pushes me over the edge. As my climax explodes like a bunch of firecrackers, distinct pops of sensation blending into a glorious eruption, he grips me tighter, thrusts harder; and then I’m aware of wet heat gushing over me as he cums all over my panties, soaking us both.
Later, we meet a friend for drinks before dinner.
“How was the movie?” he asks.
“Great!” I say, just as Tony responds with, “We didn’t make it…” We look at each other guiltily.
“We missed it,” I admit. “It was my fault, I took too long to get ready…”
“Ah, typical woman,” our friend says.
Tony raises his glass to me in a silent toast.
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More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…