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opendirectories · 11 months
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bigboppa01 · 7 months
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utwo · 8 days
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1970 Ford F-250
© Velocity
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Chevrolet El Camino "Sport Top," 1959. An option that was studied for Chevrolet's first generation El Camino '59 and '60 models, but was not approved for production. 
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en-wheelz-me · 5 months
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fuzzyghost · 3 months
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theminimalisto · 1 year
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1955 GMC 100
1955 GMC 100, 383 Stroker, Automatic Trans,
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sex-storytime · 6 months
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Raven
It was finally Friday and I would once again charge forth bravely into the night searching for love or at least a good time; to embark with the boldest intentions and the most optimistic outlook. I wouldn't be so shy this time and I'd get out and meet people and have fun. I'd find love, or at least a lover right? Sure... Well at least I'd have a few beers and watch other more confident guys do just that.
My plan was the same flawless failure I've always employed: hanging out at the local  bar!  I liked to show up early, around 8:30 I guess. Many of the regulars were there early and you could cruise around and exchange greetings before the out-of-towners and once-in-a-whilers showed up and packed the place. Some people might think it was weird that I would go there alone, but I wasn't alone if I knew 10-15 people in the bar (which I usually did). I wasn't like a "Hey NORM!" kind of guy, but I did get "hey," and "yo" (which came with the obligatory 3-part handshake/finger-clasp/fist-punch 'homey' greeting), so that was cool...
I strolled in at my usual time, scanned the bar, and there she was. Whoah. There were times when for whatever inexplicable reason, stunningly beautiful women would bless the bar with their presence. She was a fine example. I could immediately sense the tension around her. At this point, the clientele in the bar was comprised of people in a relationship or hapless dorks like me. For now, her beauty helped radiate an aura of intimidation that kept everyone at a safe distance.
She looked to be about twenty-five. Her skin was porcelain which contrasted the dark waves of raven hair falling down to the middle of her back. She sat neatly cross-legged on the barstool wearing a silky brown number that was low cut in the front, even lower cut in the back, and only went down just a little ways past her hips. She wore sparkling high heels with straps that wrapped halfway up her well-toned calves. She had several large metal bracelets on each arm and her ears were adorned ornate feathered earrings. Freckles covered the tops of her arms, back, and presumably chest and face (I couldn't see that yet). I drank in the sight of her in the spare second I had while I was casually scanning the room. The next second, my eyes fell on her friend.
Ah yes, the ultimate armor: the heavier-set, shorter, but still kind-of-cute best friend. Now I'm no ladies man, but I know the setup. I've seen it plenty of times in this place. It was like watching National Geographic. The antelope must band together to fend off attacks from the pouncing solitary tigers. Now I immediately knew that gorgeous woman was way out of my league, but I relished the opportunity to watch her as well as the drama that was likely to unfold around her.
I bellied up to the bar down the way from her so I could see her face. Yep, she had freckles. She was very pretty though - big eyes. They looked green to me; maybe hazel. Then she smiled at her friend. Wow, nice white teeth - very pretty smile. The edges of her lips formed a cute little crease that betrayed the slightest aging of her skin. She then turned her head my way. Her eyes settled on mine for just a second, and her smile lingered for just a second, before moving on. She saw me. She thought I was worth a look. She did right? Okay, I wasn't really sure.
I mean, who was I kidding? Here I was, a thirty-four year old guy of average height. I still had my dusty blonde straw-like hair, wild as always. I've drunk plenty of beer in my time and had a bit of a gut to show for it. It wasn't too bad though. I hid it well by wearing hemmed button-up shirts and a decent pair of slacks. I dusted myself in Obsession (for men), and I'm sure that helped too. While I've always thought my face was kind of doofy looking I've had girls tell me I was cute in a Simon Pegg kind of way.
It didn't matter though; I wasn't going to try to talk to her. Not now anyway. Maybe, after I've slurped a couple more pints of liquid courage. Maybe, if I could get her attention again. Maybe... But for the time being, I just ordered a beer and made the rounds saying "hi" to my friends and acquaintances.
I ended up sitting with Linda and Gary, an older married couple. They were pretty cool. I just chilled with my beer, listened to the music (which was of the slower tempo, not-ready-to-light-the-dance floor variety), and occasionally stole glances at the pale beauty sitting at the bar across from me, back turned. I hadn't even finished my first beer when her friend suddenly got up, calmly grabbed her purse, and left the bar. I was a little surprised. Surely she was just going to the car to grab something, right? She'd be right back.
I downed the rest of my beer and headed back up to the bar. Maybe I could make eye contact again. Maybe I'd even figure out if her friend was coming back. I stood at the end of the bar and casually stared in her direction, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She seemed very composed, but a little nervous too. The expression on her face was very... business-like. Wow, I maybe she WAS alone. Just then she glanced up and caught my eye again. She lingered this time, for a half second, maybe even a whole second. It was just long enough for me to start getting scared wondering who would break contact first. Her lip starts to curl. She was going to smile at me! And then HE slid in and cut off her view from me.
Cock block! Well, I didn't have any claim, but still... she was going to smile at me! Grrr... Instead she turned her head up and fired off the half-cocked smile at him. Great. I didn't even see him come in. I took a quick look around and realized that the bar was starting to fill up. He must've been a recent arrival. What a classic douche: over 6 foot tall, pink shirt with a popped collar, and a white baseball cap cocked to the side in that schmucky I'm-too-cool-to-wear-clothes-normally fashion. He propped himself up on the bar, scooted right into her personal space, leaned in, and started talking into her ear. I hated him already.
I tried to watch her reaction to him. She seemed mildly (or was it politely?) interested in him. He bought her a drink. It looked like a cranberry and vodka. She daintily sipped it through the two coffee straws parked in the ice. Alas... another fine specimen lost to douchebaggery. I ordered another beer and headed back to my table. By this time, the lights had been turned a little lower, the disco ball was lit up, and the dance music began cranking through the speakers. I really did think that Kanye West Gold Digger song was pretty cool – the first twenty times I heard it.
Linda and Gary got up a couple times to dance. It was always hilarious to see an older couple shaking it to hip hop and modern pop songs. Meanwhile, I kept tracking back to my prized eye-candy for the evening. She was still sitting at the bar. Her friend never came back. The douche was still hanging around too. Clearly, he was trying to monopolize her attention. She seemed polite, but I couldn't really tell if she was enjoying herself or not. It looked like she was still nursing the first drink he bought her.
As was usually the case, the more beer I drank, the faster I drank it. Needing another refill, I sauntered up to the bar. This time I boldly decided to park myself right next to her. As I looked around, I realized that the bar was getting pretty full. The bartender was literally running back and forth behind the bar to fill orders. Okay, it was more like a half-assed jog, but you get my point. Her back was still turned to me because the douche was demanding her attention, carrying on about something – probably the size of the stereo in his rice burner. So I just patiently waited for my turn to order, trying to look cool.
The bartender caught my eye and I raised my empty glass to indicate I wanted another beer. He starts walking over towards the tap when the douche flags him down with some other order. Damn! I got bartender-blocked too! Before I could mope to myself, I realized my luck had just turned. With the frat-boy's attention set on the bartender, the pale beauty I'd been admiring all night finally turned around and noticed me standing there. Those big bright green eyes sized me up and in a heartbeat she fired off that smile again. She'd been saving it!
"Hi," she said sweetly.
"Um, hi," I responded in my best oh-yeah-I'm-cool manner. With her eyes on me, I looked over her shoulder at Pepto-Biff-Tannen and did my best impression of him trying to lean-swagger so hard against the bar while pantomiming the turn of an imaginary cap on my head.. She let out a little giggle and I smiled back, genuinely this time. Taking it further, I hammed it up pretending to flip up a non-existent collar while giving her the wankster "what's up" shrug of my head. She got her hand up to her face just in time to snort as sudden convulsions of silent laughter bounced her body up and down.
She locked eyes with me and then turned her head to take a knowing stare at Yacht-club-dropout who was still oblivious to our impromptu mockery. Her eyes flashed and that smile came firing out again. It was clear a mischievous thought had come to her mind. She pulled the straws out of her drink, gulped the rest of it, and set the glass down on the counter.
"Do you want to dance?" she asked me, looking me straight in the eye almost as if it were a command instead of an entreaty.
I was shocked. Really? She wanted to dance with me? What I really couldn't believe was that the next thought to enter my mind was, 'but I haven't gotten my beer yet.' Like waiting even another second for Preppy-Billy-Zabka to turn back around was advisable. Fortunately, I come to my senses quickly.
"Sure," I replied with an air of faux nonchalance, setting my empty mug down.
I took her hand and lead her out onto the dance floor. Lost Without U by Robin Thicke was playing. Perfect. As we get onto the dance floor, I realized how tall she was. I'm 5'10, and with those heels, she was just a bit taller than me. She smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck, content to dance close to me. I put my hands on the small of her back and leaned in to smell her hair. Mmm... very floral, perhaps a hint of vanilla. I breathed it in deeply, feeling it stir jittery butterflies in my core. One of her hands slid down my back as she stepped in a bit closer. A trail of goose bumps burrowed its way down my arm.
After about a minute of this pure bliss, she leaned back a bit and smiled, "Sorry about dragging you out here like that. I really needed to get away from that guy."
Yeah, it was a REAL inconvenience to have to dance closely with such an attractive woman. "Sure, no problem," I replied casually.
Reminded of the alpha-jock-archetype, I glanced back over at the bar to see him leaning back watching us, clearly fuming. "Yeah, your man-friend back there doesn't look too happy."
She tilted her head back a bit and rolled her eyes, "Ughh," before stepping back in to dance close again.
We dance for a few moments more. As I watch her expressions, it was clear was scheming about something. Then, as if an epiphany struck, her eyes lit up and she smiled that big, deadly smile at me, "Hey, can I ask you a favor?"
Anything. ANYTHING! I'll do anything for you.
"What?" I ask.
"Would you be my boyfriend?"
Huh?
"Your boyfriend? Wow, you move fast," I replied almost hoping she really did move that fast.
"No no no silly... You know..." she made air-quotes with her hands in front of my face before wrapping them back around my neck, "a 'boyfriend'. So I don't have to put up with creeps like that guy back there."
Oh... a pretend boyfriend. Got it.
"Oh I see what you mean," I replied pausing, only not to seem too eager, "Sure, I can do that."
I'm all smiles now. Of COURSE I can do that. When the song ended, I lead her back to my table and we sat down with Gary and Linda. I politely flagged down the waitress and ordered the next round of beers and cranberry-vodka.
We talked. I learned that her name was Brandy and recited 'Brandy Brandy Brandy!' a thousand times silently in my head to lock it in. I also learned that she was a receptionist at a local business that sells parts for industrial manufacturing or something like that. She revealed that her friend had to leave because she worked early the next day. Brandy was going to leave too, but it'd been so long since she's been out that she decided to stay. She leaned over and told me she almost regretted the decision because of the pink-narcissus. It turned out that her polite attitude towards him was just that: being polite to some random creepy guy.
I started rattling off some of my euphemisms for guys like him and she snorts again in laughter. "Ha ha!" she giggles, putting her hand on my leg, "Pepto-Biff-Tannen! That's hilarious! He kept going on and on about all the offroading he does, blah blah blah."
I also learned that Brandy was no slouch in the drinking department. It took her nearly an hour to finish her first cranberry and vodka. It only took her another hour to finish the next three. With each drink she became more open and vibrant. She laughed more often. She touched me more often. I didn't know if she was simply maintaining the ruse of us as a couple for onlookers, or if that's simply how she was. Mr-Overcompensates was still prowling around the bar. He'd moved to hitting on other women, but he was still keeping an eye on us.
And then Sexyback came on over the speakers and she DRAGGED me out onto the dance floor. Immediately, Brandy turned around, backed up her tush and started repeatedly slapping it against my pelvis while lifting her hair with both hands and letting it fall onto her shoulders. She was having a great time. More importantly, she was having a great time with ME!
At this point, I just tried to stand there and look cool, maybe swaying a bit to the beat. There was an audience of other men watching her, lust in their eyes. Other couples were on the dance floor, but the spotlight might as well have been on Brandy.
She turned around, placed her hands on my sides and went into a full squat. Perching on those heels with her legs fully folded, she parked her face right in front of my crotch. Now I had sprung wood the moment her rear had slammed into me the first time. It couldn't be helped. I'm sure she knew. How could she not? And now she was taking a good look at her handy work. On her way back up, she nudged my belly with her head, waving her hair all around. I looked down to see a lustful, pouty, open-mouthed look dancing on her face.
It was a very sexy routine. I couldn't tell if she'd practiced it before. Her technique wasn't flawless, but her enthusiasm was excellent. I put my arms around her and pulled her in close for some more intimate dancing. I ran my hand up her neck through her hair and then wrapped it around her head, massaging the lobe of her ear with my thumb. I wrapped my other arm around her and held her close. Our hips worked frantically, trying to grind the beat into each other. My manhood was at full attention and lasciviously pressing itself into her belly. She had to know it was there and seemed to relish focusing her rhythmic bodily contact at that point.
We ground our way lustily through the next song as well. Sometimes we changed position, but we were always rubbing hips. It was like we were having sex... with our clothes on... with an audience. Thanks to Brandy's provocative gyrations, I had a few moments where I wondered if I could 'contain' the excitement boiling in my pants. The dancing was hard work too. Pretty soon we had both built up a steady moisture and were wiping sheen from our brows. She looked much sexier doing so than I did.
When the song ended, we got off the dance floor and she planted a long wet kiss on my cheek. Then she laughed and said, "That was fun."
The musk of her glow had combined well with the scent of her perfume. She smelled intoxicating. It was like she'd been switched on. I imagined that she would smell equally great after making love. Hell, we'd just practically made love in all but the penetration and climax.
As I lead her back to our table, I couldn't help it. I had to blurt it out, "I like you. You're fun."
My sentiment came out completely childish, but she just smiled back and said, "I like you too!"
And so the night went on. She laughed at my corny jokes and when a good song came on, she dragged me back out onto the dance floor for another workout. When the DJ called last-call for alcohol, she was clearly disappointed, "Oh... So soon? But I'm not ready to go home yet!"
As luck would have it, I knew of an after-party that a couple of the bar-regulars held routinely. I was a little leery of suggesting it to her as I knew we would be greatly outnumbered by other guys, but it didn't matter. As soon as I mentioned it she jumped at the idea, "Let's go! Can you drive?"
So we decided to go. I could tell upon arrival that Brandy was not impressed. The house had a very run-down frat feeling to it. She stayed close to my side as we walked into the shabby living room and I exchanged greetings with a few guys I knew. Then we grabbed a couple cans of Icehouse beer (yum-yum! – NOT) and parked it on one of the beat-up couches. She sat on my lap and wrapped an arm around my neck. Based on her trepidation, I wasn't sure if she was really that into me, or just leery of EVERYONE else at the house. There was dance music playing and a few of the girls who showed up were dancing/stumbling around in the living room. Brandy seemed content to stay seated on my lap, rocking a bit to the beat. Of course, her proximity and steady rocking motion guaranteed my perpetual hard-on would last, frustrated to the early morning hours. There was no way she couldn't have noticed, but she never said anything. Instead, she just continued smiling and nuzzling her butt into my lap.
The upbeat energy of dancing and drinking at the club had not carried over successfully to the afterparty and before long, I could see the late hour and the alcohol taking its toll on Brandy. She'd curled her legs up and was resting her head on my shoulders. As much as I enjoyed the cuddle and stroking her long dark hair, my concern for her wellbeing eventually took over.
"Had enough fun for tonight?" I inquire, brushing a strand of hair away from her pretty face.
It wasn't meant to be a loaded question, but I was almost hoping she would say 'Not yet! I'm saving the best for last!' or something to that effect. Instead, she just nods her head and mumbles out an "Mmm hmm."
"Ok," I whispered close into her ear. "Is it okay if we leave your car at the bar for tonight?"
"No car. Took a cab."
"Oh, okay. Well I can drive you home if you want. Where do you live?"
"Aw... can't we go to your house?" she purred, running her finger down my chest.
Suddenly, I had gone from 'boyfriend' to BOYFRIEND. I feel a little guilty because I know she'd had too much to drink, but how can I refuse an offer like that?
She seemed to come alive suddenly and stood up off the couch reaching her hand out to me. Then she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "Come on loverboy! Take me home!" which drew immediate ogling "Oooooohhh's" from everyone in the vicinity. A couple of my friends gave me the whistle-wink-thumbs-up routine, knowing that for me to leave the party with a pretty woman on my arm was a rare thing indeed.
So I grabbed her jacket off the couch and hurried her out of the house to a cacophony of catcalls. She giggled the whole way. Once we were in the car, she turned to me, leaned over, and planted a wet kiss on my cheek.
"I had soooo much fun tonight! Thanks!"
"You're welcome," I replied warmly. "I had fun too."
Then her mood quickly turned sad. "I have a confession to make though," she frowned.
Uh oh, here it came. "What's that?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and sighed loudly, "I have a boyfriend."
All I could think was, 'What the fuck?'
"You mean other than your current 'boyfriend'?" I ask, referring to myself.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. ...I do. He doesn't like to go out," she sighs again, "I had a great time though."
Me too. I was certainly disappointed, but compared to any other Friday night in my life, this was still a top-tier evening. So I sucked it up and tried to make the best of it.
"Oh... so do you want me to just drive you home then?"
"Um well, he thinks I'm at my girlfriends tonight... Would you mind if I stayed with you?"
"Um..." I stuttered, not sure what to think.
"I'm sorry if I'm putting you out."
"No, it's okay. I don't mind," I replied, trying to hide my confusion. Why had she told me she had a boyfriend and then asked to stay over? Was this her way of politely backing out of any further intimacy?
"Okay, okay... but NOTHING's going to happen," she said while wagging her finger in a no-no pattern, "You understand that right?"
Sure I understood. I had a universal signal I briefly pondered giving her replete with a nice boot out the car door. 'Think about that while you're walking home!' But I couldn't do that. I was a nice guy, and up until this point, I'd had a really fun evening. So I just mentally prepared for the inevitable frustrating end to our evening and replied as politely as I could.
"Yeah, sure. I even have a spare bedroom."
"You do? Perfect! Thank you so much! You're so nice to me..."
Nice? Uh oh. Friend Zone.
The drive home was quiet. She cuddled up and turned away from me in her seat and appeared to be asleep. When we arrived at my house, I had to open the door and help her out of the car.
With her arm around my shoulder and my arm around her waist, I helped her inside and up the stairs. Despite the recent turn of events, I still got goosebumps from feeling her pressed against me and smelling her hair.
"You have a nice... house," she mumbled.
"Thanks," I said as we crested the stairs.
I got her into the spare bedroom where my mother would stay when she came to town. I hadn't washed the sheets yet from Mom's last visit, but at least the bed was made (thanks Mom). I flicked on the light and showed Brandy in.
She looked around and smiled, "This will do nicely."
With that, she shuffled over to the bed, sat down and began undoing the straps of her high heels. I stood in the doorway, ready to offer assistance if she needed it. She didn't. A moment later her shoes were off and she stood up. For the first time tonight, she was shorter than me.
Then she looked at me, smiled, and reached down to grab the hem of her dress. In one quick motion she flipped it up over her hips revealing a lacy blue thong beneath. It was happening so quickly, I didn't even think to turn away. A couple of wiggles later, she had the entire dress up over her head, exposing a cute lacy blue bra lifting up her small, pert breasts. The dress fell to the floor and she immediately set about unfastening her bra. It fell away easily as well.
There Brandy stood before me wearing only a tiny thong. Her demeanor suggested that being nearly naked before me was perfectly normal. She made a big show of stretching as she lifted her arms over her head and yawned, her breasts rising and falling before me. Then winked at me, turned around, wiggled her tush, and began peeling back the covers on my bed.
Then the show was over as quickly as it had begun. She climbed into the bed, pulled up the covers tight, and let out a long sigh.
"Can you turn out the lights?"
"Okay, um... goodnight then."
"Night night!"
Bewildered, I turned off the light, closed the door, and shuffled off to my own bedroom. It was 4 am by this time, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead, I just laid in bed thinking to myself over and over, 'What the hell? There is a beautiful, nearly-naked woman in my own house yet I'm sleeping alone. What the hell? We danced. We hugged. I smelled her perfume. I played with her hair. She flirted with me the WHOLE time, yet here I am still sleeping alone. WHAT THE HELL?'
My thoughts wandered to her innocent little strip tease, the image of her lithe, fabulous body was burned into my brain. I imagined that instead of turning me away, she had continued to tease me. After undressing, she would lay back on the bed and begin rubbing herself through her panties while tweaking a nipple with her free hand.
"I had so much fun tonight," she would say. "Dancing all night, holding you close. Rubbing up against your hard cock..."
Then I would go to the side of the bed, sit on the edge, and watch her continue to rub herself and talk dirty to me...
"Yes, I know I made you hard... and I liked it. I kept you hard all night, rubbing my ass against you on the dance floor... Sitting on your lap and wiggling against your dick. I could tell it was big too. I liked that."
I would say nothing, instead continuing to watch her hand rub circles on the front of her panties. Maybe I would put a hand on her leg and gently pet her thigh...
"I've been wondering all night how your cock would feel in my pussy. Rubbing and dancing and holding you close... It's made me so wet. Can you see it?"
She would then lift her hand away from her mound, grabbing the top of her thong and pulling it tight against her sex. It was quite evident that her pussy was engorged, soaking through the front of her panties...
My lewd thoughts of Brandy had finally become more than I could stand. I had my hand down in my boxers, gently stroking myself as I fantasized about what would happen next. I was getting pretty into it when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. Brandy's almost child-like voice called out my name tentatively.
Embarrassed, I whipped my hand back out of my boxers and rolled over onto my belly. Like modesty mattered at this point.
"Yes?" I replied.
The door opened slightly, and through the shadows I could make out her sticking her head in.
"It's really cold in there."
Then I remembered that I had closed the vents in the ceiling of the spare bedroom to save on heating costs. "Oh, right... I'm sorry. The vents are closed. I can open them for you." I started to get out of bed but then hesitated when I realized she'd see my tented, wet-spot appointed boxers.
Perhaps she misread my hesitation, but she saved me. "No, that's okay," she said, slipping inside the doorway with her arms folded across her naked chest. "I was actually... I was wondering if I could maybe stay with you?"
A thousand questions ran through my head, but I only needed one answer, "Um, sure."
I saw her figure hurriedly approach in the moonlight as I pulled the covers aside and made room. She climbed in quickly and snuggled up against me. Eager to touch her again, I was surprised by how cold her skin was.
"Brrr..." she shivered.
I wrapped my arms around her and we settled into a spooning position. Once again, her butt was pressed into my crotch. A little chagrined, I wasn't sure what to do or think next. Do I just try to fall asleep with this gorgeous woman in my arms? Do I make a move? Would I be taking advantage of her? What the hell?
"Hmmm..." she purred, "You're warm."
And with that, she went still. Soon, her breathing becomes the measured in and out of a woman comfortably asleep.
I laid still with her in my arms for as long as I could. Though it was probably only minutes, it felt like I had held myself politely still for hours. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me. I slowly began to run my hand down her thigh, lingering on her butt just long enough to caress it and then back down again.
I did this for about two minutes before she sighed and rolled forward onto her tummy. My hand froze, but her breathing stayed calm and measured. So my hand began wandering again, down her thigh and then up over her cute little butt to caress her back. I continued tentatively exploring Brandy's body, savoring the feel of her smooth naked skin.
I heard what I would have described as a contented mumble as I slid my hand back down her back. Her butt wiggled slightly and her legs spread apart. Her skin had quickly gone from cold to warm.
Emboldened, I took extra time caressing her butt on the next pass. I even went so far as to grab a handful and squeeze gently.
I was just about to move on to caressing her thigh when her hand snaked out and slapped mine.
'Uh oh,' I think to myself, 'I'm in trouble now.'
But instead of admonishing me further, her hand moved off of mine and down between the fabric of her panties and the fleshy crevasse of her butt. Grabbing a bunch of material, she yanked her thong upwards, pushing the lips of her sex aside as her wet gusset slid between.
She let out a contented sigh as I watched her, frozen with nervous excitement. After a brief tug, her hand let go, went limp again, and then slowly retreated back under her pillow. I was so surprised I didn't move, unsure of what had just happened. Was that deliberate or was she acting out in her sleep?
I slowly moved the covers aside and looked at her in the moonlight. I could barely make out her lips peeking out of either side of her stretched thong.
I was so entranced by the sight of her sex in the pale light, I simply sat there and stared at it. Moments passed quietly as I gazed upon her, transfixed. As if she had become impatient, her butt started to wiggle again. Snapping back into the moment, I took her gesture as an invitation. I reached my hand back down to caress her butt. My touch was met with a muted sigh of contentment.
Encouraged, I moved from slowly from rubbing her cheeks to slipping my fingers down under her thong, just as she had moments before. This elicited another contented sigh as my fingers immediately felt her wetness. I used my pointer finger to peel aside her thong while my middle finger caressed her sex.
I felt her hips shift as she pressed subtly back against my hand. What sort of game was this we were playing? Was she really asleep and reacting as if in a dream, or was she merely pretending to be asleep as part of some odd ploy to avoid responsibility for whatever was going to happen next? Either way, her body very much wanted me to continue. As I slipped my hand further down into her crotch, I used my fingers to spread her sex. It opened easily: wet, warm, and inviting.
Holding her thong aside with my thumb, I began running my two fingers up and down her labia. She continued subtly gyrating her hips and moaning softly into the pillow as I stroked her pussy and slipped a finger inside. Keeping my right hand working on her sex, I used my free hand to prop myself up onto my knees and straddled myself over her.
My hardon had never subsided, but my need felt more urgent now than it had all night. I fished out my erect penis from the slit in my boxers and began lazily stroking myself as I continued to administer to her wet, increasingly needy crevasse with my now sopping fingers.
I was incredibly turned on by our "unconscious" role play. I wanted to be inside her so badly. Would she allow the game to go that far? Was it what she wanted? At this point, what could it hurt to try and find out? I gently slid my fingers away from her sex, painting a wet trail on her bare as cheeks.
I paused a moment to see what she would do when I stopped playing with her pussy. For a few moments: nothing. Then I heard a muffled whimper as her ass wiggled again. She wanted more.
I sat up a bit more so I could work my boxers over my hips, springing free my engorged prick. I then carefully worked my underwear down past my knees and off. Brandi continued to whine and wiggle her tush almost as if she knew what I was about to do and couldn't wait.
I grabbed my cock and stroked it a couple more times as I squatted back down onto the back of her thighs. I aimed myself at her exposed sex and rested my head just above the entrance to her vagina.
She wiggled her butt again, swirling my cockhead around in her juices. I worked my hips with her gyrations to prevent her from slipping inside her. The thought of teasing her now seemed like a mild form of justice for the way she'd teased me all night. More than that though, I really needed to know for sure that she wanted me inside her. I needed to know I wasn't about to take advantage of a passed out young woman who only seemed to be enjoying my ministrations.
"Tell me you want it," I instructed calmly. "Tell me you want me to fuck you right now."
Silence. Her hips continued to jiggle, coaxing me on. I continued resisting, pulling back if her moist lips got too close to drawing me in.
"Say it...," I commanded now.
This time, her hips stopped moving. There was a long pause...
"Mmmm... Fuck me baby...," she relented in a passionate whisper.
That was all I needed. I relaxed my hips and slid forward slightly. As I did so, my dick finally breached the divide between teasing and fucking as my cockhead slowly eased its way into her. Brandy's hips didn't move, but I heard her exhale a long, contented sigh.
She felt wonderful. Already sloppy wet from our tease-play, her vagina accepted my manhood with a warm, snug embrace. I carefully eased myself forward, savoring every bit of her depth as I slid myself to the hilt. Aside from her sigh, Brandy was silent and motionless. Her body seemed completely relaxed with nary a tight muscle to be seen or felt. I slid myself back out just as slowly, observing the moist sheen she had deposited on my dick.
I started to steady my pace: slowly in, slowly out. I wanted to take my time enjoying the lewd circumstances of our joining. There she was like a ragdoll, letting me pull aside her thong and fuck her all while acting oblivious to everything that was going on. I continued caressing her butt and pulling on her thong as I slid in and out. Despite my best intentions, I began quickening my pace. Her pussy was coating me with her juices and the sight of her ass crack totally exposed was such a turn on, I couldn't help myself.
Before I knew it, I was fucking her properly; thrusting in and out. Though still relaxed, Brandy's breathing had intensified with my strokes. A slight vocalization escaped her lips each time I drove it home almost as if I was pumping life into her. By now I had given up the pretense of "sneaking sex" without "waking" her. My hands were gripping her butt tightly to steady my rhythm. I was breathing heavily. The whole bed was shaking. The headboard was smacking against the wall.
It felt so good. I knew I would not be able to last much longer. Only now did it dawn on me that, since I wasn't wearing protection of any sort, she might not like it if I came inside her. There was no time to make a reasoned analysis of my options, so I settled on breaking my silence again and giving her warning.
"Oh god baby! I'm going to cum soon..."
That elicited an immediate moan as if the anticipation of me fully "violating" her was going to push her over the edge. Her body curled a bit as she tightened her grip on her pillow.
"Fuck me," she whispered. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."
I took that as permission to spill my seed inside her and pulled off the throttle a bit. I changed up my quick pumping for longer, deeper thrusts; each one prompting a complimentary "ugh" from Brandy muffled into her pillow. At the precipice of ecstasy, I shoved deep into her one last time, pressing the head of my cock up against her cervix. I tensed my muscles holding off the coming release for as long as I could. A moment later, my orgasm overcame that fickle barrier and exploded ejaculate in deep, forceful bursts against the walls of her sex.
"Ummmm..... cumming!" I warned her, a bit too late.
She was already reacting to the sensation of throbbing head releasing semen. Her hips began bucking more wildly than ever before, trying to milk the last bits of pleasure from my cock.
"Oh God yes! Adam! Yesssss!" she screamed as if waking from her self-imposed stupor.
Adam? My name's not Adam.
I refused to ruin the moment though. Her body started shuddering. I held her quivering ass tight, keeping myself buried deep in her as she rode out wave after wave of orgasm. Eventually the bucking of her hips subsided and her head rolled to the side. No longer muffled by the pillow, she took a deep breath and let out a long contented sigh.
"Mmmmmm...."
Her eyes were still closed, but I could see the crease of a slight smile on her face. Enjoying the moment, I caressed her body once more. I massaged her butt, rubbed my hands up and down her back, and then down the sides of her thighs. Brandy's only response was goosepimples. Then I slowly drew myself out. She shuddered one last time as the tip of my head left her sex and then she went still again.
Exhausted, I fell back on the bed beside her. I wasn't sure what had just happened, but damn it sure felt great. I just hoped I had read her signals properly. The grin plastered on her face suggested that I had. I wasn't sure who Adam was though. Did she think my name was "Adam"? Was that her boyfriend's name? The questions swirled in my mind for only a moment. As the euphoria of sexual release began to wear off, sleep quickly claimed me.
I woke up the next morning and found her gone from the bed. "Oh crap," I thought to myself, remembering back to the deeds of last night. Had I done something wrong? Where had she gone?
Just then, I heard the toilet flush in my bathroom and I saw her come out. She was now fully dressed and seemed to be in a giddy mood. In her hand, I spied what could only be the wadded, soiled material of her thong.
"Hey there sleepy-head!" she greeted me, sitting on the edge of the bed politely keeping the hand holding her thong out of sight.
"Hey," I reply as nonchalantly as possible.
"Thanks for letting me stay here last night. I really appreciate it."
"Sure, no problem."
"You know, I had the weirdest dream last night," she intoned sarcastically.
"Oh?" I said, playing along.
"Yeah. I dreamt I was having sex with my boyfriend. He was massaging me, toying with my pussy, and then he fucked me REALLY good from behind."
Adam must be her boyfriend then. "Is that so?"
"Mmm-hmm. It was pretty hot. I'm sorry if I got weird or moaned out loud in the night or anything..."
Not sure how to react to that, I just went with: "It's okay. Don't worry about it."
She rolled her eyes. "Anyway... I just wanted to check and make sure we're cool right?"
"Of course. Absolutely."
"Good. It must've been a pretty good dream, because I totally soiled my panties."
On cue, she offered up the evidence dangling her thong by the waistline on one finger in front of me. I could see could see the cloudy soiled gusset clearly in front of me. I said nothing.
Brandy continued, "Clearly I can't take these home with me. What would my boyfriend think if he saw these?"
"Uhh..."
"So I'll tell you what. Why don't you keep these," she said tossing her panties in my lap, "and we'll keep whatever happened last night strictly between us, ok?"
Who was I to argue with that?
"Sounds like a plan."
"Good. Now you just rest up and I'll get out of your hair. My cab is waiting downstairs."
She had already called a cab. Great. It was a relief to be so summarily untangled from whatever mischief we'd gotten ourselves into last night, but at the same time I was a bit chagrined to know I would likely never see her again.
"You didn't have to do that. I could've..."
"No, it's better this way," she interrupted. "Thank you so much for everything last night... and I do mean EVERYTHING. I had such a good time..."
I heard two distinct, impatient toots of a car horn outside.
"That's my ride!"
She got up, leaned over, and kissed me tenderly on the forehead. She looked me in the eye and gave me another one of her great smiles. Then she spun around, was out the door, and out of my life.
I looked down at my lap to the ragged blue thong. I picked it up and examined my handiwork. The mess wasn't anything a good washing couldn't cure, but I doubted that was the point. This was a memento to do with and savor however I pleased and a reminder of the crazy party girl who let me fuck her in her "sleep". Of course she had been awake the whole time. These panties were a token to let me know everything was okay.
I lifted them up to my nose and smiled.
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