Play with my body like only you can
She’s the one in charge right now. I was willingly lured away from the party. The sound of voices trickles through the walls. I can smell the scent of other people in the bedroom we stole away into. Her hand slides down my pants. I try to wiggle away from her.
I know that my panties will betray my excitement. She leans her body into mine. Her smaller breasts crush against my larger set. She smells like flowers and something inherently spicy. My belt restricts her fingers from pushing inside. I roll away from her and face her fully.
The room is dark and the movement of a car gives it a flash of light. We can see each other barely through the haze of the street lamps outside. She looks like a beautiful mirage sent to tempt me. I wonder if this is like all those Bible stories we were made to memorize as kids.
“I thought I was always the one to start shit, Jay,” I tell her.
She saunters toward me. She’s all woman and there isn’t a hint of that girl I used to know. Her curves are blatantly obvious. Like the street lights outside are serenading her every curve and valley. I wonder if she wore that dress specifically for me.
She stops right before me. I resist the urge to melt into her body. I lick my lips like I’m trapped in a drought. I haven’t whetted my appetite for women in so long. I don’t trust them enough to ever start anything. She cocks her hip to the side. I can see her little black lace bra.
You fucking little tease, I think to myself. I bite my lip. She knows I love lace. She always used to give me hints of her breasts under her clothes. It was the little game we played as girls.
“I’m not the same girl you knew. Is that him out there?” she asks me.
“Who do you think, Jane? The guy, the boyfriend.”
She returns back to the pursuit of my body. Everywhere she touches it feels like an unending heat. As if she might burn away my clothes with her touch alone. I have on a low cut tank top and jeans. I can feel every inch of her body in her clingy dress. The material feels so soft against my skin.
That’s the beautiful thing about women, their softness. How we can be so hard on the outside with protecting ourselves. Yet our skin, lips, touch, all signal the softness we hide so well.
She pushes into my space. I turn my head and inadvertently fall into her long, thick hair. I always loved the scent of her shampoo after she showered.
We’ve never kissed and I wonder how she tastes. We were too afraid to kiss when we were brought up in Christian school. It was enough of a sin to play with each other’s bodies like we did.
“Yeah, it is. It’s a guy who thinks we’re a thing.” I shift my weight against the wall.
Her fingers brush against the tops of my breasts. I shiver against her touch. Every bit of my body betrays the passion I have for her. I hold my breath as if this might help in some way. Her nose nuzzles into my neck. I know she can feel my pulse against her lips.
“Is he it? Is he love?” she asks me.
I snort at the question. She grates her teeth against my skin. Not enough to nip my nape, but enough to give me the hint of her biting me. She was never as devious as me. I can see time has given her more than enough experience. I try to hold in the low grumble from her.
“You know I don’t believe in that.”
“It believes in you.”
I grunt at her words. The truth is I do believe in it. It just seems so impossible to have at times. Something so fragile that I might break it if I hold on too tightly. I’m afraid I will be whatever I am that causes it to shatter in my hands.
She wraps her arms around me. It feels so good to be embraced by her again. She’s so warm and I wonder how I feel. Do I feel as good as she does to me? Has she had fantasies about us? I start to fall into her body of temptation and delicious sin.
“Remember when we were in the pool? And I pulled your one piece swimsuit to the side and played with your tits in the water?”
She pulls aside my low cut top. My large breasts swell like an offering for her to feast on. She doesn’t pop my tits out quite yet. The threat is there and I know she knows that this is my weak point. I can orgasm from my tits being played with. I protect them fiercely for this reason.
She looks directly into my eyes. The same way she did when we were younger. I growl at the torture she’s putting me through.
“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.
She giggles at how I look right now. It must be a mixture of sexual frustration and unending lust. My thighs rub together. I feel the stickiness of my arousal dripping down. My panties are nothing but a moist cloth trapped against my pulsing clit.
“You know he’d love to watch us? All men are enamored with that shit.”
“I wouldn’t want him to.”
“Why’s that? They all have that fantasy of jacking off in a corner to two women.”
“Because I’d want just you. Just you as my focus. Like back then. Like when we knew we should be with guys but we never wanted to be,” I say in a soft tone.
I blush at my own honesty. Her playful demeanor shifts. It’s like something has changed within the room. There’s something heavy that isn’t spoken. The weight of our own sexuality is like a giant white elephant in the room. She cuddles up against my body. I hold her in closer like when we were younger.
We’re at this party because it’s a reunion of our high school. We’re now so much older than the young girls who first played all those years ago. I hoped that she would be here.
“I missed you,” she whispers in my ear.
All my resolve to resist her melts away with those words. I arch into her form. I know I’m pushing my breasts into her hands.
I pull her in close to them as if inviting her to suckle on them, to her delight. Her fingertips scoop inside of my bra. I feel her nails dragging against the sensitive skin of my nipples. I remember how many hours we spent tormenting each other’s tits. We never seemed to grow bored of it and would forget to eat.
“I missed you too. You always got my weird.”
“I want to have you,” she says.
My hand guides up into her dress. I remember every curve of her body. She had less than me but I always enjoyed it. I drag my fingers up her thigh. She tries again to get inside of my jeans. Her other hand frees my left tit. I can see her face diving down to scoop the flesh into her mouth. I can’t wait for her to suck on them again.
“Then have me.”
It’s always been so simple with us. I make quick work of her dress. It slides over her head like it was meant to come off this whole time. I know she locked the door to this room when we came in. I toss her dress into the corner. I make sure it’s as far away as possible so I can see her ass wiggling for it later.
She pops out both tits from my bra. Her mouth bears down on my left nipple. I feel her circle her tongue around the bud. Like she’s memorizing the bumps of my areolae as they bunch under her tongue. I struggle to remove her bra. She reaches behind and makes quick work of the three prong snaps.
“You were always so bad at taking bras off.”
“Whatever, maybe I like watching you take it off,” I counter.
We become a mess of limbs and grabbing at body parts. I grab her ass and drive her into me. She keeps sucking my left tit like it is the most delicious thing ever. I moan and grind up against her leg. My one hand unbuckles my belt finally. Her hand pushes inside of my jeans.
I make sure to do the same to her. Her panties are soaked and I dip into the folds of her clit. I rub her briefly and bring my hand back out. I can’t help but to smell her scent like we did when we were younger.
She smells the same. That so light muskiness which is such a contrast to my deep, heavy scent. I lick my fingers and shove them back into her panties. I could remove them but it reminds me too much of high school when we were getting each other off quickly.
“Let’s do it like old times. Cause someone might walk in at any time.”
I take her shoulders and spin her. I make sure to shove her up against the wall like she had me pinned. This room has a closet with a mirror. I can see her and me in the reflection. We are quite the perfect picture together again.
I scoop up her breast and bring it to my mouth. My teeth sink into her tit and she moans. I know she loves the pain just as much as I do.
I’m aware of her sucking my tit as I suck hers. We rub each other’s clits as we continue to bite, pull, and tug on each other’s nipples. The pain only makes me moan and I keep her tit in my mouth. My other hand reaches around to her back. I sink my nails into her back and drag down. She lets out a little yelp and I shove her backwards.
We fall onto the one bed in the room. It’s only full sized which reminds me of the sleepovers we used to have. I grind my fingers even harder against her clit. She does the same to me and I feel the electricity build. I keep violating and abusing her tits just how she likes.
My teeth bite her right nipple while I pinch the left. I roll the flesh in between my fingers and pull as hard as I can. She arches into me and I know she’s close to coming. My teeth sink firmer into the soft, delicious texture of her breasts. Her body bucks underneath me as I feel her orgasm.
She tries to push me away but I won’t let her. I feel her thighs twitching and spasming around my two fingers. She tries to keep playing with me but she’s rendered useless underneath me. I feel her drag me in close. Her teeth sink into the nape of my neck. She sucks in the skin and bites down. I know she’s trying to leave a hickey on me.
When she parts from my skin I see her grin. It’s that trouble making grin that always surprised me that she’d wear. Because I was always the self described difficult one. But somehow, always, I seemed to rub off on her.
“Let’s see what the boyfriend thinks of that.”
“Mmmm, that and the flavor of your pussy on my tongue.”
She lies limp underneath me. I can’t help but to pull her in close. We never cuddled when we were younger. I know she wants to make me orgasm but I don’t mind waiting for it. She snuggles into my warmth and I smile.
“We don’t have much time,” I say.
“Then let’s make the most of it.”
I can still taste and smell her pussy as if I had just dove in between her legs. She squeezes my tit like it’s something to relieve her stress. I run my hands over every exposed part of her skin. As if I’m reading every curve, wrinkle, and line as if it’s Braille.