Stifling - Sex Stories

Stifling

... shirt and clawed at my waist, making me wince. He continued unabated, going north to grasp one of my tits, fingertips digging in. “I’m too rough. Different things turn me on.” “Like what?” He paused, his thumb and forefinger twisting my nipple so hard I had to bite my lip to keep quiet. “Like helplessness. Dirty stuff. Not the kind of things I think you’d be into.” His hand moved to my other tit and kneaded it roughly. “So why’d you bring me here?” I asked uncertainly. He considered briefly. “Well, first I thought maybe just fucking you would do but now I feel we could do more. I could show you a whole different world. I could be your tour guide.” His hand was gripping my tit so hard, I was sure he’d leave an imprint. “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. “You’re not who I thought you were.” “So you’re gonna run?” he asked softly. “Gonna run away and spend your life wondering what if?” “I shouldn’t even be here.” “But you are.” His knee went between my legs and pressed to the apex of my thighs. I pushed back against him instinctively, painfully aware of the throbbing heat inside me. “You’re here, Ivy. You came. You wanted me. Still do.” His hands moved fast, catching mine and holding them behind my back. I was breathing hard, knowing I should tell him to stop, knowing I should leave but unable to pull away. He held my wrists in one of his hands and the other went to my jeans, tugging at the fastenings. “Don’t, don’t,” I said, panicky all of a sudden. “Don’t what?” he asked. ...

... His hand had already loosened the jeans and he was pressing his fingers against the thin material of my underwear. It felt even more intimate than skin on skin. “Don’t,” I gasped again. “What?” Robbie asked. “Don’t touch you? But you like it. You like my hand here, don’t you? You like my finger pushing against your wet little snatch. You wish it were my cock.” “No,” I gulped. “No.” “Don’t lie,” His fingertip rotated on my swollen clit, and I bit my lip hard, tensing my entire body to stop the quiver that threatened to give me away. His hand traced further along my slit, pushing the damp material of my underwear against me before he pulled it right up into the crack of my ass. “Let’s not pretend anymore,” he breathed. “I’m going to do whatever I want to you and you can say you don’t want it but you’re gonna love it. You’re gonna beg for more, Ivy.” “Robbie, I...” “What? You want to go? Say it. Go on. Tell me you want to leave and all this never happened. You walk out of here and forget all about me. Say it, and this is over. It’s your choice.” I said nothing. It was almost unbearably hot in his apartment, like the windows had been shut all day and the heat had built up in a greenhouse effect. I could feel my t-shirt sticking to my back and my hair felt damp. Robbie’s hand was still holding my wrists tight. “What?” he asked. “It’s – hot in here,” I said quietly. He smiled and let go of me, reaching for the door and locking it. He dropped the keys onto the coffee table with a ...