Summer Ch. 21

"Feeling better?" he asked her almost solicitously, as if he was undressing her for her own benefit; and even as he said it his shaking hand returned to smooth across her stomach once again.

"You must be much cooler now," he said, keeping up his inane pretence, "without all those constricting clothes. You feel cooler," he said and as if to prove his point his hand moved over her bare skin, sliding across her stomach, skimming the top of the white material of her knickers, "much better to touch."

She swallowed nervously as he touched her, stoking her tummy, moving up her ribcage to just below her breasts; moving slowly lower to drift momentarily under the waistband of her knickers as if testing how far he dare go, waiting for a reaction. In response she watched his broad flat face hovering just above her, seemingly calm and smiling. Yet she trembled and breathed in sharply, almost a whimper whenever his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her knickers or circled near her bra covered breasts.

She shivered as his hands explored her, the skin he had exposed. She knew it was only a matter of time before he found the courage to touch her properly, before his hand slid down inside her pants in earnest or wormed their way inside her bra to find her breast and her nipple; she remembered him in the church hall, his hand between her legs and she trembled at the thought, staring at the canvas above her as if trying to distance herself from what was happening to her, what his hands were doing, where they were going and what she knew they were eventually going to do.

He was using both hands now, one at her waist and the other higher on her chest, circling, getting bolder. She stiffened as his lower hand finally breached the line of absolute intimacy and his fingers slid slowly down her stomach and slipped under the lose waistband of her knickers. She looked at his face as his fingers, gaining courage, moved down into the warm soft darkness. His eyes were fixed, following his fingers down into the secret places reserved for lovers. The pretence was over. She breathed in as he spread his fingers in the darkness, holding her breath as her knickers gaped away from her skin as his hand moved further down her smooth, flat stomach. 'My God,' he breathed as his fingers finally brushed lightly against her pubic hair. She gasped and his eyes vacantly flicked to her face although his thoughts were fixed on the exhilarating sensation of the rough hair he could feel beneath his fingertips.

"Oops," he said suddenly remembering she was there, a real person attached to the hair and she started at his forced jovially. "What have we here? Is that your pubic hair?" he asked. "I guess I'm going a bit too far eh? Perhaps a bit too fast? She said nothing, she just looked back at him, her eyes wide with shock and his hand slowly and extremely reluctantly retreated. "Plenty of time," he said quietly, "let you get used to idea."

He let the elastic at the waist of her knickers snap gently and silently back into place and he sat back again for a moment, his hand resting softly on her stomach, a tight little smile on his face. He was painfully erect and he reached down and moved himself into a more comfortable position. She lay and watched him, her defences falling, her eyes warily flicking from his face to the ceiling, waiting nervously for his next move. He looked at her laying there before him. Her shirt wide open, more off than on, her skirt undone, passive and accepting, nervous but compliant; and he knew that in truth there was no stopping now, he had already crossed the line of common decency, he had put his hand inside her knickers, reached her pubic hair, mere inches from her sex; all pretence was over now, they both knew what the game was, no more 'are you cool enough now", they both knew that he was shortly going put his fingers inside her; he just needed to move slowly.

Changing tack he placed his hand at the top of her chest, his fingers at her throat, his thumb resting in the hollow at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse beating beneath his fingertips, a rapid thread beat that spoke of fear, and yet perhaps concealed the possibly of excitement and he smiled.

"You're not saying much," he said quietly, "cat got your tongue?"

His thumb gently stroked the base of her throat and she closed her eyes, raising her chin slightly as if opening herself to him, yet she still remained silent. She had said nothing since he had begun to undress her but he wasn't worried, her skin was warm and soft to the touch, her pulse fast and strong, he had her blouse open and her skirt undone. He was halfway there.

Still watching her closely he trailed his hand slowly down her chest onto the soft upward swell at the beginning of her breast. He felt the rise with his fingertips, following the curve upwards to the soft, lacy, edge of her bra. She shifted nervously and her hand twitched in self defence as he once again hovered on the edge of decency. He placed his other hand flat on the soft silky plane of her stomach and again he felt a satisfyingly nervous intake of breath. She knew he was going to take her, that there was nothing she could do to stop him, he was working her like a doll, conditioning her, getting her ready for when he would finally slip his hand between her legs.

He smoothed her stomach with his palm, gliding over her skin, gently kneading, reinforcing her vulnerability. She murmured quietly as his hand once again slid finally lower, his fingers almost stealthily working their way under the soft material of the waist of her knickers. He again paused, waiting for a reaction but this time he received none other than a shuddering rise and fall of her chest beneath his fingers. He slowly stretched his hand until he once again felt the first small hairs of her pubis. He ran his fingers over them, feeling their texture and the line, his hand moving freely from side to side beneath the tent of her clothing. She shivered as his hand stroked her intimately in the darkness, softly insistent, exploring. And she recognised for the first time, with a unlooked for, a sudden and strange arousal, a strange and moist desire developing between her legs.

He felt the first tremors in the body laid out beneath his hands, a first indication that she was beginning to respond, to take an active interest in her own seduction. Not that he was particularly concerned if she did or she didn't, her satisfaction had not entered into his consideration until now but he smiled at the thought that possibly he could turn this young woman on.

He flexed his fingers, one of his hands inside her knickers, the other on the soft rising swell of her chest; and he noticed a line that seemed to connect the two points, the two ends of her sexuality and as he moved his fingers at one end he felt a corresponding movement at the other. He felt her move beneath him, almost a soft shudder of hope being abandoned, but perhaps of a nascent sexuality, the first small hint of the budding of desire; she was rising to him.

His fingers curled, rasping his nails gently across her skin, raising goose bumps, making her press her thighs together. He smiled at her innocence; he could almost smell the moisture he now hoped would be forming between her legs. He had read about how wet a woman get when she is stimulated, he had felt it briefly when he had made her cum in the church hall and he suddenly dared hope that he could make her wet again. He began to work her, stroking lazy circles on the soft upper slopes of her breasts and doing the same in the darkness inside her knickers. Touching her softly, keeping her on the edge of final intimacy, moving closer then retreating, then closer still, building her slowly, feeling the first movements of her hips, the small tell tale intakes of breath, the tremors in her thighs. As best he knew how he was keeping her aroused, making her squirm. Her back arched a little as she stretched out on the bed before him, well on her way to being half naked, her clothes in growing disarray, her skirt sliding slowly lower.

She was open and exposed and she felt it, growing moist, vulnerable, turned on, aroused and weakening. He watched her slowly shake her head as his hand drifted once again ever closer to her sex, exploring down the sides of her mound where the soft smooth skin led directly down to her sex. Her nerves were stretched taut, her sex moist, her nipples erect and almost painfully sensitive rubbing against the inside of her bra. She knew he would soon be at her breast, his fingers between her legs; and she squirmed in fear and expectation as he stroked her, getting even closer before drifting away, making her shiver, making her whimper in anticipation. She was no longer sure what she was hoping for, that he would continue or that he would stop. At this moment both seemed unreal and unnatural choices for her

She felt him slide her bra strap off her shoulder. She looked down and to the side as her bra eased its tension on her breast. She whimpered as his hand caressed her now naked shoulder, feeling the line where the strap had been. It was only a bra strap but already she felt vulnerable with it. She felt his other hand withdraw from her knickers and she bit back a cry of disappointment. Reappearing from the darkness inside her knickers it reached down and taking hold of the hemline he pull the front of her skirt up to her waist. She felt the air against her thighs, the sudden exposure and she jerked as if she had been hit. He smoothed his hands down the front of her thighs, he was preparing her for the final assault, a good tactician, removing the obstacles in his way. He pulled the front of her knickers down a little and she shivered and cried out quietly as his hand once again slid back into her pants, the elastic pulling softly against her skin as he moved lower, seeking out the shape of her mound, once again exploring, touching, stroking, drawing ever closer to her sex and she shook with nervous anticipation.

She was openly moving under his hands now, her hips trying to follow his fingers as they moved around the edges of her sex, stroking, inflaming; softly arching her back to offer her breasts to the sky or whoever may wish to use them, the slowly mounting craving to be touched turning her nipples to rock . Her body was on autopilot, responding to her growing needs, her sex seeking his fingers, her nipples needing his touch. She was becoming lost to herself, sexually wracked, undone by unexpected desire.

She almost did not notice when his hand finally slipped inside the soft cup of her bra, sliding down to take possession of her breast. Concentrating on the hand in her knickers and the promise of relief it signalled the first she realised was when his fingers wrapped themselves around her breast, encircling it, capturing the high ground of her taut and stretched out body. She gasped in confusion and surprise as his large hand filled her bra, overwhelming her breast, his fingers squeezing, constricting her lugs. Her heart was suddenly pounding so fiercely that, she was sure he would be able to feel it beating against his palm. His fingers found her nipple and she almost screamed as he tugged at it, pulling it and the breast it was attached to free of the cup.

No one had ever held her like this before, so familiarly, so blatantly sexually, and she gasped as he rolled the highly sensitised bud between his finger and thumb, squeezing slightly, drawing it upwards stretching it out. Her hand automatically covered his, trying to stop the pleasure that her nipple was delivering. He laughed and brushed her hand away. He pulled her breast completely free of her bra, drawing it out into the daylight, alabaster skin pink tipped, soft breast and hard nipple. He pulled down the cup to expose her completely. She cried out as he took her nipple again .holding it between his finger and thumb and carefully rolled it back and forth, pulling and squeezing experimentally before cupping her entire breast in the palm of his hand.

She groaned as he squeezed, working her entire breast under the palm of his hand. She moaned as he worked her, her sex responding to the sudden handling of her breast and nipple, each twist of her nipple vibrating between her legs. She could almost feel herself getting wetter, her sex tingling with arousal and with a growing sense of desperation and horror she realised that she was desperate to be touched.

With a casualness that denied his own excitement he pushed her bra strap from her other shoulder, pulling it down her arm as far as it would reach before pulling her other breast free of the restraining confines of her bra. Freer now, he pulled the cups down below her breasts completely exposing her. Her firm breasts stood proud from her chest, her nipples hard and pointing skyward. He laughed and ran his hand from one to the other, squeezing and fondling her soft and tender flesh.

She squirmed as her touched her, squeezing her breasts and rolling her nipples, his other hand still deep inside her knickers, curling his fingers in her public hair, a short breath away from the top of her sex. He could feel her hips moving, small rolling movements that he realised indicated her need to be touched, she was rising to meet him. He could feel her heat as his fingers explored the smooth skin at the side of her sex, stroking, teasing, feeling the first hint of the wetness that awaited him. His fingers traced a line adjacent to her lips, so close she wanted to scream and she involuntarily spread her legs, opening herself up, urging him on.

He rolled her nipple, twisting it slowly one way and then the other, testing its stretch, feeling the texture and the shape. He pulled on it, slightly harder, feeling it elongate feeling her breast stretch out of shape to accommodate it. She groaned and her chest lifted to follow her nipple, easing the tension and the stretch he was creating.

She spread her legs wider, astounded by the sharp and sudden line of fire that linked her nipple and her sex and her hips rose, searching out his fingers, searching for relief. She squirmed, her juices running between her legs, soaking into her knickers, her sex beginning to boil. She whimpered her growing need, twisting beneath him, surrendering to him as her desires drove her ever higher. He was in complete control, drawing fire from her body. His eyes shone like a demon and his lips curled in a parody of a smile as she cried out and opened her legs even wider, desperately seeking relief for the fierce heat building through her breasts and between her legs.

She shook as he caressed her mound, his hand softly pressing down and she pressed back, pushing against him, involuntary movements that moved his fingers ever closer to her sex. Finally his fingers found her, sliding onto her wetness and she cried out again pushing herself blindly up against them. "Please," she whispered, "please." Her voice dissolving into small animal like mewling sounds as her need robbed her of articulate speech. She spread her legs as his huge hand covered her, her hips shaking in desperate anticipation of relief, she could feel her juices smearing beneath his fingers, his palm sliding over her sex, the friction delicious and electrifying. She cried out as he worked her nipple, now red and swollen from his handling, her hips were twisting and thrusting up into his hands, her desperation obvious.

He knelt in wonder beside her as she writhed on the bed, one hand wrapped around her beautiful firm young breast the other inside her knickers between her legs, pressed flat against her hot, wet sex. His fingers slid along her lips and he marvelled at the amount of moisture he found, she seemed to be soaking, her sex running with liquid fire. Her breast was hot, her skin slick, her nipples hard and fierce. He had to hold her down, press her back against the bed, hold her flat as she squirmed and roiled beneath his hands

Her legs opened wider as he felt along the length of her sex, his fingers slipping through her wetness, her juices smearing his hand. She cried out as he touched her, driving him on, his excitement as great as hers. She strained back against his fingers, pushing her sex against him, her thighs spread as wide as she could get them. He had never guessed that such abandon could exist, such wildness, such a desperation to cum; he had never dreamed that sex could be like this.

She was totally unaware of the sexual epiphany that was taking place in the man with his hand between her legs; all she knew was the desperate need for blessed relief. She writhed beneath him as he squeezed her chest and nipples, working her sex with his fingers and the flat of his hand. His fingers slipped between her lips and that was all she needed. She was so excited that she came, instantly, piercingly, arching up into his hands, her small cries turning into one long drawn out sob of release as she bucked and shuddered through her first overwhelming and uncontrollable climax. Her pressed her sex beneath his hand as she came, pressing fiercely back as she pushed up against him; his other hand gripping her breast, holding her down, pressing her back onto the bed.

The strength of her climax rocked them both. She bucked her hips against the pressure of his hand. She cried out and gripped the wrist of the hand that held her breast and squeezed until he feared for his circulation. She sobbed and cried out, shaking and squeezing his hand with her thighs until slowly the crisis passed. He stared at her wide eyed and she sank back onto the cheap canvas bed. He had never seen anything like it before. If someone had described it to him he would have said they were lying, that it could not be true. He had read about them, heard descriptions, but never seen one in real life, let alone imagined having been the cause.

He shook his head, his world had tilted as she had moved beneath his hands and he suddenly realised that this semi naked young woman on the bed before him had opened up a whole new world to him, a world alive with sexual possibilities. Even if she had not planned for this to happen, it must certainly been a possibility for her when she had first dropped her cassock to display her body to him in the church. And the realisation shocked him; and he further recognized that despite her apparent naivety that she was probably more aware of the possible outcomes in this game of consequences that he was, and suddenly sobered he wondered exactly who was playing who.

She had slowly subsided beneath his hands, quietly sinking back onto the bed, her climax short lived and fierce. But his hands seemed glued to her body, he could not let go, his fingers still slowly moving on her sex, feeling her warmth and her unbelievable wetness. His hand massaged her breast, his palm sliding softly over the red and still engorged nipple. She lay still as he used her, as if he was not there, as if his hands were not still on her body. Her eyes were closed, her hair in disarray, her lips glistening in the soft green light, her breathing ragged. He wanted this moment to last forever, his moment of his own sexual awakening, his very own, very personal epiphany; one that he never imagined would happen, never even guessed had existed. He marvelled at the feeling of her, the beauty and the warmth. Her sex still burned beneath his hand, her breast rolled wonderfully, enticingly under his palm.

"Where have they gone?" he asked eventually, his voice sounding loud and intrusive, in the silence that had settled on them. She didn't move, as if she had not heard, lost in the post climactic rush of hormones that had flooded her body like an after wash. He asked again. "Where have they gone," and again she didn't stir. He eventually shook her shoulder and she opened her eyes, confused and disoriented.