Repressed Sexual Thoughts

adventures in babysitting
2001-09-02 @ 12:34 p.m.

it all starts with a kiss.

or does it start with the desire that then leads to the kiss.

no, it all starts with a kiss.

Lying on the floor, on a futon, he's pressed to my back. I can feel soft, warm breath, rythmically streaming down my neck and sending chills down my spine and blood to my clit. Attempting to watch some show on TV, occasionally glancing at him, only to see his eyes and mind seeming to be focused on the television, resulting in an almost unwilling squirm on my part.

Through squirms and glances, whimpers and sighs, he looks at me and smiles. He knows what I want. He teases me, a knowing grin on his face. "What?" he mocks. "What do you want, babe?" I sigh almost pained and squirm more. His grin widens, "Come here." I turn to face him and a kiss begins it.

There is a distinct difference between a kiss and a passionate kiss. A kiss can make you horny, sure. A passionate kiss will make you want to rip your clothes off with complete disregard to anything other that moment other than that instant, fucking and cumming.

He gives me a passionate kiss, holding his body just far enough away that I edge closer, in an almost embarassed stealth. We kiss, my fingers go over his body. He's holding out on me. I squirm again in anticipation and desire. He runs his finger over my bare stomach, pausing to kiss my pale flesh as I shiver. He traces my thigh and the little line that my panties border where leg becomes pussy. He cups my pussy in his hand, feeling how hot and wet I am through my panties.

Finally, he pulls away a bit more, sits up a bit more, makes sure I'm lying properly. He kisses me one last time. Kisses my stomach. And pulls my panties off.

He knows how to tease. A few more traces over my thighs. Rough fingertips touch my swollen clit. The noises I make are animal. Twisted in little circles, I squirm and convulse, singing his praise in sexual chirps and groans. I jerk at the friction, torn between cringing with pain or convulsing with pleasure. I angle my hips, I twist, trying desperately to get him inside me.

He just teases more. He slides those fingertips down to the little area, not quite the slit but below my clit. Tender and wet, he traces my slit, not going a centimeter inside. I whimper. I can't talk, I'm too wet, too desperate for something inside me. I whimper and after a minute more, a single finger, long and slender slides inside me, slowly caressing the inner contours of my body. I groan with relief. And my mind and body tense again with anticipation of more.

He turns his wrist up, and flicks his finger inside me, quickly pulsating his fingertips at my g-spot. His thumb finds its way back to my clit, despite his occupied fingers and I groan and sigh.

I can only take this so long. I grab his hand, open my eyes only to send him a look of desperation and see the almost amazed look on his face. I fumble as best I can and give him the idea that I need another finger inside of me.

I get my wish and arch my back. He gives up on the clit play and begins thrusting his fingers inside me like a piston. I moan and grind. I am everything at once, I am feirce, I am submitting, i want to cry, I want to laugh. I pull myself up and desperately grab his neck and kiss him hard, his fingers still thrusting inside me. I bite his lip, a fetish of his. I see him cringe but in the best way. I bring him close to me again and talk in the raspy voice of sex. "i want you." I pant into his mouth, inhaling his exhales. He thrusts again and I fall back to the matress with a groan. I wrap my fingers around his neck again and look him in the eye as best i can. "I want you." I repeat. "I want to feel you in me," I tell him. "I want you to fuck me." He weakly and desperate for attention of his own only responds with, a breathless, "Yeah.." or "Oh yeah.."

I give up. I lay out on the matress and stretch my arms over my head and arch my back. He leans down, and licks my clit, still fucking me with his fingers, flicking his tongue, sucking as I crawl and feel like I could break.

I touch his head and glance at him again. The look in his eyes, the horny, 'i want you', desperate look in his eyes, brings me to a whole new level. I want to cum.

I grind against his hand and whisper breathlessly, "Harder." He pushes his hand harder against my flesh as he goes in and out of me. "Faster," I mutter. This goes on until he's punching my pussy, I'm squirming and screaming, unable to say much besides the occasional "yeah." "oh fuck yeah" "oh god" or "i love you.". The sound of his fist hitting my pussy and my wetness.

God, I love being punched. To be bruised would be devine.

I feel my pulse quicken, he licks me again and I grind hard into his hand. I watch him through slit eyes, the look on his face. He looks almost angry, horny, determined to make me cum. And I do.

I push myself hard against his hand and feel my pussy involitarily convulse. I feel the moisture and I feel myself relax with a deep moan from somewhere deep within. I run my hand down my body, over my breasts and bare belly and down my thigh, just because there's this silvery feeling after I cum where I just need a gentle stroke. He pulls his fingers out of me and crawls back up beside me and runs his hand over my naked body, down the curve of my breast and my waist and my ass. I open my eyes, slightly, satisfied, and dreamy. He smiles softly, a different man from the one with the angry face who was punching my pussy at my request moments before. He runs his fingers through my long blonde hair and asks innocently, "Yeah?" I nod weakly and in awe. "Yeah." I mutter, "Fuck yeah."

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