Intent Sealed

We were walking up a hill in a local beauty spot. Just being alone with a White English man was such a forbidden thing for me to do that I was at a fever's pitch of happiness and arousal. I wonder if someone from a less restricted background could imagine how I felt. The process of excuses and sneaking needed just to meet had me so excited before we even met up that every moment since; the drive, the sound of his voice, his sheer physical presence were too much for me. It was the best ever fore play in my life and we had barely touched each other.

It was hot in my inappropriate long dress, but I thought I looked OK. I must have done, because he took my hand to steady me over a style and did not let go. I looked good to him. I was instantly pierced by a stab of desire that had me grinding my thighs together as we walked.

When we reached the top of the hill no one was around. It was a Friday and school was still in session, so we were all alone. He spread a little blanket and we sat in the hot sun, when out of the bag he pulled a champagne bottle and two glasses. Before I could remind him that I was forbidden drink, he told me it was non-alcoholic.

So there I sat like a princess in my own fantasy sipping fake champagne with a man nearly twice my age. He told me how beautiful I was and I dared to believe him, turning my head away so he could not look closer at my face and realise his mistake.

I sat cross-legged as he lounged beside me, his shoulder close to mine. We fell silent and then I felt his hand on my shoulder. In a moment we were huddled into a hug. His breath on my neck and mine is on his. I started at the touch of his tongue at the nape and I shivered.

Soon he was kissing softly. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, but I turned away, red with embarrassment, and mumbled something about brushing my teeth. Had he seen how hairy my face was? I know now that I was no different from any other young girl with my doubts, but back then I waited like a fawn ready to leap from his rejection.

I wanted to kiss him, but was terrified. If he kissed me he would be put off by my breath or facial hair. Our arms were looped clumsily around each other, and I convulsively pulled him tight to try and lessen the rejection. He overbalanced and his weight came on my shoulder for a moment.

Then, thank God, he steadied and I felt his lips high on the cheek of my averted face. In a moment he was nuzzling my ear and the awful sick dread of rejection was gone, washed away by an electric jolt of sexual gratification. As his lips brushed down the side of my neck and bit on the soft flesh of my shoulder, I arched and sagged against him.

I don't know how long we cuddled there, probably no more than a few minutes, but it could have been hours. He was a perfect gentleman as always. His hands just held and stroked my back. But, when we got up to go, I leaned against him weak with desire.

When we got back to the car, the car park was empty around us. In the car we hugged again deeply and he pulled me, seemed to lift me from my seat like a feather over the transom and sat me in his lap wedged only half-comfortably between his chest and the steering wheel. Without even trying my shy lips, he nuzzled into my neck again as his hand first rested and then began rubbing on my belly.

The tension in me had built up so strongly that my body no strength at all. I felt so heavy that I was sinking into him. I came explosively in an instant and I felt him jolting against my bottom. My cum flooded out and soaked my bottom and his lap.

I wanted to die of embarrassment, but he just held me until I knew he did not mind. We sat quietly as the waves subsided. Nothing was said as he drove me back to the station. Nothing needed to be said.

I smelled, I reeked of orgasm, but I sat without a care in the world on the crowded train all the way home.