His Touch - Sex Stories

His Touch

... yielding. I lifted it to my mouth and bit into it the juice floating down over my lip and chin. I leaned forward to catch it with my napkin, not wanting to stain my shirt. The sweet fruit playing on my tongue made me wonder if he is planning to touch me with his mouth or hand.

The thoughts of how he might do this, once again began to float in my mind's eye. The idea of him touching. I gave into my mind and closed my eyes for just a minute, imagining. His soft, tender, and questioning fingers. They would barely notice the feel of the fabric of my skirt, as they glided along the roundness of my ass cheeks. I heard a small moan.

I shook my head, as my eyes flew open. Who was having sex already, I wondered? Quickly I remembered it was my own body, giving voice to what my brain was conjuring. I swallowed the rest of the berry and hurriedly picked out a few more strawberries, piling them on my plate. My heart was racing again and I drew in a few long breaths to slow its pace.

I found my seat occupied now by a very leggy redhead. Looking around I chose another seat, instead. I didn't feel the need to engage in small talk over whose seat it had been. Deciding to keep the conversation in my own mind for now, the current discussion being a debate. What was the best course of action between allowing this man to perform his desire, or not. This was not something I had sought out to play with before. Nor was it the first time it had happened either. Before it was the shock of ...

... allowing, taking over from disallowing. Now it was a toss between that allowing and the wanting. The need between my legs made itself known more as each minute passed.

Nibbling on a strawberry I studied him more. He wasn't the tallest man in the room, but he wasn't the shortest either. I liked how his hair brushed the back of his collar, the bits of grey blending into blonde matching his well-kept beard. It was a subtle mixture, unlike him. I continued to look him over, like prey. Or was he the predator? After all, I wasn't the one making a declaration of intention.

I let my mind replay our lengthy dialogue in my head. I wanted it, I decided. When the time came I would allow this guy, this predator, this prey, to lay a part of his body in direct contact with my own. The dam in my mind gave way to the images it had been piling up. I found myself tightening my ass, at the idea of the feathery caresses of my butt cheeks. The way his finger would slide along; following the seam down the back of my skirt. Tracing the seam of my body, knowing that he would know what would be underneath it.

I watched his back as he walked around the room. His hand at the small of a woman's back, or firmly shaking her husband's. Oh, the idea of that hand covering one, or both, of my breasts. His hand warmed my skin through the silk of my blouse. He would start flicking open the buttons, allowing direct contact with my honey-tanned skin. My nipples felt like rocks in my blouse. I didn't need to ...