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Wet Lips
All throughout class he couldn't help but stare. Every downward dog, every cat-cow, every time she bent over he could see nearly every detail of her through her tight thin teal yoga pants. He was medium to tall, dark eyes, great hair, friendly smile, wide shoulders, abs to show, and confident. She was slender, curly long hair, dark eyes, long lashes, nice curve to her ass, with small and perky breasts. Just his type. He wondered if she was even wearing underwear. Was she torturing him on purpose? It was impossible not to notice, he being positioned right behind her. The class seemed an eternity, and when it was over he was covered in sweat. They parted ways to change. Heading out, they bumped into one another, he wearing jeans, button shirt, flat shoes. Her a yellow dress to the knees, hair pulled back. He was starving, maybe she was too? Laughing he asks,
"Want to grab a bite?"
Why not she thought. Afterall, she was hungry, and he seemed nice, confident, with a warm smile. She did notice him during class behind her. She tried to convince herself that just because of him she did not bend a little deeper, not push her ass out a little more, but she knew that was a lie.
They sit down at a cafe in a semi-secluded corner, eat and begin easy conversation. Eyes lock for longer and longer it seems, lump forming in their throats. He begins to wonder what she has on under her dress, if she is again not wearing undwear. He throws caution to the wind — life is too short — and pauses, looks at her, and quetly and boldly inquires if he can ask her a question. He gets an intent and mischevious look in his eye. She is intrigued and says yes, although nervious.
"Were you wearing underwear in class today?"
Long pause, she gets flush, lump in throat. She didn't. Did he notice!? After another long pause, she looks up at him, slighly embarrased but also bold.
"No."
"Are you wearing any now?" Man raises eyebrow.
The lump in her throat grows, as well as a flutter in her chest.
"No"
Releaving a little of the tension he follows:
"I'm jealous. Woman can do that. No one knows they are not wearing underwear. It must be thrilling. Plus, woman can even…play and no one would know."
Taking the opportunity to lighten the converstaion, she laughs.
"Ha, that is true. Noone really does know. It's fun, scary sometimes, but tantilizing."
He gets a truely bold and lustfull look in his eyes.
"Want to play? Play a game that is?"
She is nervous, looks around, they are in a cafe, around people, but noone can see her, or under her dress. Caution to the wind, she take a tiny mental step. Biting her lip, "Yes".
"Close yours eyes. Breath slowly, like class. Concentrate on your breath. Think about being alone. Think about your body. Your neck, your legs, your stomach, your breast, your ears, your arms, and finally think about touching your pussy."
She does, breathing, calming, thinking about each part of her. Listing to his calm instructions. A few minutes pass in silence as she thinks. Her hands are on the table. She begins to move slightly, legs pressing in and out, back and forth, hips twisting ever so slightly.
"Now, start to move your legs and thighs back and forth across each other, rubbing and squizing your thighs together."
She begings to move, feeling warm and now a little bit wet. She opens her eyes nerviously afraid someone is watching, but is relieved when she sees no one is looking. He is staring right at her leaning forward intently. After she is moving and feeling the squeeze:
"Now, slowly, slowly, move your hand from your knee to your outside thighs."
She brushes her fingertips slowly across her legs, then she starts to drag her hands across the top of her thighs.
"Stop, now move your hand slowly from your stomach to your pussy."
She moves slowly, nearly there…
"Stop. Now slowly, slowly, spread your legs just a little. Move your hands from your knees, along your thighs, and finally touch your wet pussy. Softly move your hands around and feel your wet lips and clit."
Time passes. She is in another world. No one is around except her with her eyes closed and him with his confident voice. She continues. Soft slow movements. Other hand now, squeezing her thigh, her legs, her stomach. She is tingling all over, the tingling ebbing and flowing through her. After an eternity she exploids and in controlled convlusions — in hopes no one sees — an intense orgasm washes over her. Time passes and she finally opens her eyes. Seeming to transport from one world to the next. Flush, and a bit embarrased.
"Now, take your hand again, and touch your wet pussy. Get your fingertips nice and wet."
Now she was even more intrigued. Already in a satisfied but aroused state, she thinks to herself, "where could this be going next?" She plays along, and touches her fingers to her wet lips closing her eyes again. He moves to the seat next to her.
"Now, takes your wet fingertips, and brush them on the lips of your mouth."
She drags her slender fingers across her lips, leaving a clear wet sheen from her wet pussy on her pursed lips. Looking shyly at him.
Just then, he leans forwards and at first softly, then intently, kisses her deeply, wet lips moving together, tounges moving slowly then dancing. In the middle, somehow he has placed her hand on the crotch of his pants and she can feel how extremely hard he is. How hard he must have been the whole time.
Before long the kiss ends, their faces part but keep close.
"I'll be in touch to play our next game."
He gets up, and walks out without another word or a backwords glance. Leaving her with a look of wonder, curiousity, and arousal, wondering what is next as she touches her wet lips.
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