No Touching

And here I was again. preparing myself to try to not touch his beautiful cock as it came all over my body. This was the third time we were together, and while in some ways it was even more comfortable, in others it was far more dangerous.

We had upped the ante by coming together yet again. If there was a fourth I knew it would be even more intense. As it was I knew I was getting closer to losing my control, and I had no doubt that between us, I would break first. The pressure was both nerve-wracking and arousing.

Kneeling here, now, it was torture, looking at the outline of his beautiful dick pressing against his dark trousers. The professional attire completely thrown askew by the conspicuous bulge within arms reach.

Arms reach, hell. I corrected myself. I could lean forward and grab him. I could attack him, take him, make him come with my hands, my mouth...

"You're going to take your cock out," I said quietly, breathlessly. The sound of my own voice startled me. How long had I been lost in my memories?

I started to lean back, giving him a view of my torso. As I did, he took a step toward me and unconsciously brought his hands closer to his fly.

I started running my hand over my breast and down my stomach. It was starting.

"You're going to keep your pants on, slip your cock out through your zipper, and stroke it right in front of me," I continued. I swallowed hard, trying to bring moisture back into my throat.

I licked my lips. "I'm going to spread my legs and play with my pussy," I narrated my own actions, as I spread my legs as slowly and as deliberately as I could, "while you kneel between my legs."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I was taking things a step further than the last time, being even more assertive. He was encouraging me in his own way.

I was leaning back on one elbow now, my free hand tugging at the elastic of my oh-so-brief panties. Without even touching myself I knew I was beyond soaked. I could feel liquid seeping out of my body and down the crack of my ass. By all rights it should have felt uncomfortable, but god help me, I felt erotically naughty.

He kneeled, close enough so that if he lost his balance he would collapse on me, close enough that the front of his masculine thighs would have pressed into the backs of mine with a strong inhalation of breath.

"I'm going to play with my pussy and watch you stroke your cock," I said, my voice coming out almost dreamily.

I had to avoid saying I want for everything. It seemed to be part of our little game, part of the rules. It was almost as if, by removing that short little phrase, I was merely predicting the future. It was inevitable. This is what was going to happen, and both of us were powerful to stop it. It somehow made it easier to succumb and let it all happen.

"You're going to hold your cock over my pussy," I said, staring straight below his belt buckle. "And you're going to stroke it until you come as hard as you can until you splash my body."

He couldn't take it any more, and within seconds his fly was down and he was desperately fishing out his cock. He was having trouble pulling it out of the zipper, as the angle was all wrong. Meanwhile, I slipped my hand under my panties and felt the massive relief of being able to slide over my clit and tease my hole with the tips of my fingers.

Finally he managed to pull his cock through and held it firmly in his hand, exactly as I had described. It hovered, mere inches above the back of my hand, head purple with agonizing desire. He stroked gently, and I found I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight.

I was mesmerized by how close he was. His knuckles came so close to my own hand working feverishly under the lace fabric. I didn't know what would happen if we made contact. Would it be too far? We were, after all, playing on a knife-edge, playing with literal definitions of terms. When he said he had not touched my body before, he meant it.

It was dangerous. More dangerous than I remembered in my entire adult life. It brought out realizations that I hadn't quite come to terms with. I didn't want this to end with him. I didn't know how we'd be able to up the ante next time, but I knew that I wanted there to be a next time.

Glancing up at his face I could see he was thinking something similar. I wondered if he could even see how close he was to me from his vantage point. Surely, he couldn't actually see under his cock, so he didn't see how my fingers lifted and fell with each swipe of my pussy. I should have slowed my fingers, needed to, but physically couldn't stop myself.

We were both working furiously. The position wasn't comfortable for me, and I needed to get off. He had a look of determination and focus on his face as well.

"I've been fantasizing about this," he said. My eyes and drifted back to his masturbation and I snapped back up to look at him.

He is so turned on! I thought to myself, and I saw what was becoming a familiar sign. His chest started expanding and contracting in a deep breathing rhythm - the calm before the storm.

"I'm going to paint your body," he said. His voice was tight as he needed to take a great effort to get the words out.

I immediately stared at his cock. The tiny opening was pulsing open and closed, like a tiny mouth gasping for air. His entire cock - already a shade of purple - suddenly grew a deep scarlet. His hips bucked in his hand as it looked like he was trying to throw his come out of his cock.

"Yes," I whispered, not even intentionally. "Yes, let me feel it."

The swelling inside of my own body roared to the surface. I want to wait, to hold off until I could watch him come, but I couldn't stop my fingers from bringing me over the edge. I had lost all ability to control my own hands.

Like a wave in the ocean my orgasm was upon me, and I convulsed. I blinked, or maybe closed my eyes without realizing it, and missed the sight of his first shot of his come. Opening my eyes immediately, I saw the next burst of white eruption streak towards my face. He roared in relief.

It fell short - far short - of my face, reaching just above my navel. The next rope, however, shot long up the valley in between my breasts. He released his cock, which bobbed and continued to release his come, but the rest of it fell on top of my hand.

My own orgasm was equally as intense. Each time one of his ropes landed on my skin it drove an electric shock through my body, always focused on my cunt. Suddenly, the arm supporting my body gave out, and I collapsed onto my back.

Out of reflex, I closed my legs as I started to come down from my high without realizing that he was still hovering over my come-soaked panties and fingers. I gasped, realizing my mistake, but it was too late. My legs were gelatinous goo and I had no strength to stop them from collapsing together.

The only thing that saved me was sheer, dumb luck. In a moment of pure serendipity, he had leaned back on his haunches to rest and catch his breath, moving his penis out from between my legs. We managed to avoid trapping him between my thighs by the slimmest of margins.

We stared at each other, dumbfounded. My heart was pounding in my chest out of fear, a thunderous beat that surpassed even my orgasmic cardiac drumming. We both cracked a smile, and started laughing.

I rolled onto my side, trying to catch my breath. Both of us were laughing much more than was necessary given the situation, but it didn't seem forced.

"Well, that was close!" he said, and started to stand up.

"Yeah," I said. I watched him take a tissue and clean off the remainder from the tip of his cock, but there wasn't much there. Sure enough, a quick review showed just how much I was covered in his come. I confess, looking at the splatter across my body made me want to have another orgasm before cleaning it off.

He tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped up, looking as if nothing had ever happened. "There are some people who are getting together for drinks before dinner at the hotel bar," he said. Somehow the change in topic seemed natural, given our history.

"Sure," I said. "Think I should go like this?"

He laughed. "Sure, why not?" he played along. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Are you kidding?" I replied, putting on my best snobbish accent. "I'm wearing a one-of-a-kind outfit!"

He smiled, showing his perfectly straight teeth. "Shall I wait for you, or should I meet you downstairs at the bar?"

I looked around the room, thinking of the practical questions of which outfit to wear, the need to shower and get ready. "Nah," I said. "I'll meet you there. No problem."

"Okay," he said. He took a quick glance around the room to make sure he had his things, and said, "See you down there."

As he left, I was marveling at how casual it was between us by this point. It was nice, refreshing to not have to deal with drama and awkwardness. I lay down on the hotel bed, running my fingers through his come on my body. It felt dirty, naughty... and arousing.

I raised my come-covered hand to my lips and sucked a finger. The come had turned cold, but I didn't care. My other hand reached for my supercharged pussy, not quite sated from my earlier orgasm. It was a mere taste, and I wanted to reminisce in my memory which I knew would cause an even more explosive one.

As much as I wanted to break through the wall between us, invisible as it may be, I couldn't deny how excited it got me. Running my fingers through the traces of come on my stomach and feeling the wave of sluttiness as I dipped my fingers back into my mouth in private, secretly indulging my inner perversions, I made up my mind that I wouldn't give in to my lust in the moment with him. As the crescendo began to take me to the volcanic explosion I had every reason to expect, I sucked harder on my fingers and imagined I was sucking the come from his cock.

I had a unique situation here, one that I doubt I would be able to find again, and instead of wishing for more I felt the beginnings of an appreciation that I never had before for one of the most vibrant fuels for my imagination I would get in my lifetime.