I tried to joke, brush it off. “Not yet? Well that’s good. Bit of a public place.”
“Oh. My mistake. I thought you might be about to cum. You know, what with having been hard ever since we left Costa.” She was so matter of fact. So straight to the point.
She shifted round on the bench, folding her left leg, her shin up against my right thigh, her right foot on the ground, and leaned in to me, putting her hand back on my belly. I took in her flat, washboard stomach, the curve of her thighs, her hips, her delicate, narrow waist. My cock strained, longing for her touch again, for the delicate tracery of her fingertips slipping over its swollen, engorged, desperate head.
“I suppose,” she said, “In that case,” she slipped her hand under my T shirt, and started playing with my belly button again, “If you’re not about to cum,” she crawled her hand down towards my belt buckle again, “Then I can safely put my hand back here.”
And her whole hand was in my jeans again, her palm sliding down over the front of my manhood’s head, the length of its hardened shaft, her fingertips teasing my balls.
“Oh, oh FUCK… Eden…”
She smirked, staring into my eyes. “Close?”
I struggled to control myself, teetering right on the edge, feeling my orgasm approaching. “Oh, oh, oh…”
Still grinning, still holding eye contact, she pulled her hand swiftly out. My hips bucked involuntarily as a wave of pleasure swept out from my cock head. I was so, so close.
She held my gaze and her expression changed in a moment, from smiling warmly to absolute sternness, brooking no argument.
“Do. Not. Cum.”
“Oh, damn. Eden…” But I didn’t. Again, I have no idea how, but I didn’t cum.
I sat there gasping, entirely focused on control. I was so close, but really wanted not to cum.
For a start, we were sitting in the park and while there was no one anywhere near, it still wasn’t the exactly best place for passion.
Secondly, I’d been imagining all kinds of scenarios with Eden for weeks now and this evening looked to have the potential for a very satisfactory outcome,
Thirdly, she’d had her hand on my cock twice in the last few minutes and both times it had felt unbelievably good. I really, really wanted more – lots more – of that.
We sat for some time, me gasping, her looking pleased with herself, while my arousal gradually ebbed, my erection even, finally softening slightly. She leaned back in the bench next to me, for all the world apparently simply enjoying the evening sunshine with a friend.
She seemed to be able to gauge my arousal subsiding, or maybe she could simply see the bulge in my jeans abating, because after a while she leaned over, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and asked, “Better? OK to walk on now?”
“Uh… Yeah,” I said, my head still full of the warm caress of her hands on me, my cock still ready to harden again with even minimal provocation. “Scuse me a moment,” I said, turning slightly away – why, I have no idea. I reached down into my jeans, pulled my foreskin back up, and adjust my manhood so it wouldn’t rub so pleasurably as we walked back to her flat.
She giggled. “I could have helped with that.”
We walked on to her place, which was up some stairs above a little cafe. I briefly considered a joke about eating out.
Eden’s flat was modest but very pleasant. The internal door off the shared landing opened into a living room and kitchen combo, with door off it into a small hallway from which two further doors opened. I guessed one led to her bedroom and the other to the bathroom.
“Grab a seat. Cold drink? I’ve got orange juice, or a beer?” Eden offered.
“Oh, yeah, juice please,” I said. I was really thirsty. While she got the drinks, I checked out the room. I was sitting on a leather sofa facing a TV. There was a matching armchair to my right and a small Indian looking table in ornate, dark wood on my left.
On the walls were three monochrome prints of exceptionally attractive women, two wearing very little, one nothing at all apart from a chainmail belt slung loose, angled across her hips. All three sported detailed tattoos, almost fine art in their style.
“Lovely place” I said, entirely honestly, as she brought the drinks over. But she didn’t sit down, instead throwing her head back and gulping her juice in one go. I got a brief but very clear view up her little spaghetti bursa eskort crop top as it rode up. It was so brief that I struggled to decide whether to focus on her perfect abs, flexed by her movement, or the undersides of her breasts as they flashed, for an instant, fully into view.
I hadn’t come to a satisfactory conclusion before the show was over and she put down her glass, turned and strode off through the door into the little hallway, calling out, “I’m taking a shower. You can have one when I’m done.” With that, she opened one of the two doors from the hallway and disappeared through it, closing it behind her.
I watched her go. Oh, did I watch her go. Those slender, athletic legs, so beautifully displayed by her perfectly fitting leggings. That cute, firm, round little backside, emphasised by the low waistband of her leggings, rocking back and forth as she walked. The lithe, toned arch of her back, naked but for the cascade of blonde hair tumbling down it, almost all the way to that work-of-art arse, and those long, athletic arms. I sipped my OJ, slightly dazed. She was in control. She knew it. I knew it. And I liked it.
I heard the shower start up. From the sound it was the sort with a built in pump to deliver a high pressure. It occurred to me she must be stripping off, peeling down her leggings, pulling her tiny top over her head, her breasts jiggling as they emerged, and, completely, gloriously naked, stepping into the flow.
I imagined the spray hitting those perfect breasts and wondered again exactly what they looked like – and how they would feel, their soft warmth in my hands. I heard the tone of the pump shift as she adjusted the shower head to get the right spray pattern.
I drained my drink and waited for her to finish, wondering about her comment, “You can have one when I’m done”. It was the end of a warm day, but I was sure I didn’t smell bad enough for her to tell me to take a shower. Maybe she planned to join me in there. I was starting to harden again.
Eden’s voice snapped me back to reality. “James?”
The bathroom door was an inch or two open, but I could still hear the shower running. “James?”
I dragged my mind out of my fantasy. “Uh… Yeah? You OK?”
“Um.” The shower tone changed, and then changed again, “Fuck. Uh… James, could you come through?” Again the shower hum shifted. “James!” Her voice was increasingly urgent.
For a moment I thought she might be in trouble. I leaped up, pausing briefly at the cracked open bathroom door, “You OK?”
The shower note switched again and she swore again, under her breath, then, “Just get in here. I need you. Now.”
That compelling tone again. My cock twitched. I opened the door.
The shower was one of those double size ones, partially screened and partially open to the room. Eden was leaning against the back of the cubicle, her feet set apart, left hand behind her head, her eyes shut. Her chest was heaving as she played the shower head jet between her legs. She was obviously close to orgasm.
She opened her eyes, grinned at me and angled the jet away slightly, her thighs shaking slightly. “James, Help me,” she said, holding out the shower head and looking meaningfully down at her pussy.
For a moment, I just stared at her. Her entire body glistened with the water. Her wet hair stuck close to her head, making it look smaller, more vulnerable. Her muscles, particularly in her left arm, her hand still behind her head, were more beautifully defined than ever.
My eyes swept down, over that perfectly smooth armpit, to her breasts, shining wet, small but firm, with dark areolae surrounding prominent, hard nipples. Her abs and quads were still quivering slightly from her close brush with orgasm.
Below those beautiful abs she had shaved and clipped her hair back to a tidy (blonde, I noticed) landing strip, tapering to a point just above her neat, small pussy lips. Through a haze of lust I managed a joke: “Is that to help me find your clit?”
She laughed, then the steel was back in her eyes and she held the shower head out to me again. “Take it.”
I took the shower head from her, her meaning clear and my mind racing. I suddenly felt some degree of control over events for the first time since she’d triggered my sudden erection as she walked over to my table in Costa earlier that evening. Of course, it was Eden who’d bursa escort bayan put me in control, but I let that pass.
“Hold on here,” I said, gesturing at the shower head’s riser rail. Now she understood what I had in mind. She grinned that grin again, set her feet slightly further apart, making those fantastic breasts jiggle in that way that only small, firm breasts can, and lifted both hands to grasp the top of the shower rail.
I took a moment to enjoy gazing at her taut, toned little body stretched out like that, my fire rising again. I adjusted the shower head to it’s fiercest setting and as the pump tone shifted, I realised I’d been hearing her teasing herself with different flow patterns earlier. Her breathing quickened – shorter, shallower breaths, her deep brown eyes begging me for that jet.
I played the spray on her left inner thigh, just above her knee. Her lips parted slightly and she took a quick short breath, her breasts rising sharply. The muscles in her upper arms tensed slightly and her eyes widened.
I moved the spray slowly up her beautifully sculpted leg, flicking it back and forth, left and right, as it inched its way towards its goal. She gripped the riser rail tighter and leaned her head back against the wall, breathing still faster.
As I moved the spray up, ever closer to her small, neat lips, I grasped her left nipple between thumb and forefinger. I squeezed gently as I swept the jet’s full force across her pussy, pausing the centre of the spray, its strongest point, squarely over her clit hood.
Her hips rocked forwards and for a moment, every muscle flexed visibly as she gasped, “Oh… oh… FUCK.” And then the jet was slowly on its way down her right thigh. She lifted her head, wide eyed, “Fuck,” she said in a small voice. “More. More of that. Oh, God, yes.”
I pointed the jet back on her clit for a moment, angling it up so it would lift her hood and play directly on her. She tensed and bucked again: “U-uuuu-uuuuuh FUCK!” Then, just as quickly, I took it away. “Don’t cum,” I said, winking at her.
“Bastard,” she grinned, her chest heaving.
I laughed and switched the shower off. She looked surprised and let go of the shower head riser rail. I grabbed her wrists and put her hands back. “No?” she asked. “Hold on,” I said.
She looked enquiringly at me, her own lust now burning clearly in her eyes. “Hold on,” I instructed. “Don’t let go.”
“OK,” she said, closing her eyes and making a show of tightening her grip, tensing those arms again. My cock, fully hard again now, pulsed.
I kissed her, slowly, gently, her lips parting slightly, our tongues slipping over each other as I gently ran my fingertips down her glistening arms, tracing the lines of her muscles, feeling them twitch and tense as I passed over them.
As our kiss deepened, my fingertips passed over her biceps, feeling their warmth, their firm, taut definition, then traced teasing, tantalising circles in her armpits.
She broke the kiss for a moment to gasp, “Uh, James, dude, that’s nice…”
“Well, if that’s all you want…” I teased.
“You know what I want.” The steel was back in her deep brown eyes, alloyed with lust.
I kissed her again, and drifted my fingertips down to her breasts, caressing them and tracing fine lines across them. She groaned slightly and shifted where she stood, trying to get her nipples under my fingers. “Not yet,” I said, continuing to tease and enjoy those beautifully formed, firm little breasts, circling inwards, ever so slowly.
“Oh God, James, please.” There was actually a touch of desperation in her voice – the first time I’d ever heard it. My own arousal grew in response, and I changed the patterns I was tracing on her breasts, moving slightly away from those tantalising nipples.
“Fuck, James, I want to cum so much.” She almost whispered it, her head back again, eyes closed, gripping the shower rail tightly. I wondered briefly how that grip would feel on my cock as I gazed again at her arms, tensed and stretched out.
“Not yet,” I admonished. And with that I went to both nipples with thumb and forefinger, gently tweaking, squeezing and teasing them. “Uh… Harder…” she gasped.
I swept my right hand straight down her front, slipped in under her hood and circled three times right on her clit, at the same time squeezing görükle escort her left nipple firmly.
“Aaaaah FUCK!” She almost yelled it, her entire body rocking away from the wall. Wide eyed, she looked at me. “Dude. Oh, God, I want to cum.”
“I know.” I dragged my fingernails slowly down from her armpits, across her breasts, enjoying her gasping again as they traversed her nipples, down over her abs – she was shaking again – towards her pussy, but stopping short to start again on the backs of her calves, slowly teasing my way up her legs, enjoying every curve, her muscles tensing under my touch. I tickled briefly behind her knees, making her giggle again, then began working my way up her strong, toned inner thighs.
She was still hanging on to the riser rail – I reflected on her determination again – but was looking down at me, thrusting her hips forward, willing my fingers higher, as if she could somehow draw them in to where she wanted them by sheer will power.
I slowed my upwards progress, tracing circles with my fingernails on the warm, wet skin of her thighs, an inch or so below her lips. “Oh God, James, you bastard TOUCH me,” she breathed.
I slid one fingertip slowly up, dusting the surface of her lips, over her hood, then traced back down with two fingertips, one on either side.
She shuddered, dragging in a long, ragged, husky breath. “Do that again,” she whispered.
I did it again, only a bit slower, dipping a just a bit deeper between her lips on the way up, my finger slipping along in her hot wetness.
And then again, slower still, this time stopping to circle on her clit hood. I could feel her, hard, through her skin, slipping back and forth in response to my massage. I looked up – she had her head back again and was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling as she gasped, her nipples like bullets.
“Oh God James, PLEASE…”
Fit young women turn me on. I may have mentioned this. But fit young women in the throes of passion, in those moments when orgasm has become inevitable, and those inevitable moments which follow, take my arousal to an almost spiritual level. I was now at a point at which I wanted her to cum almost as much as she wanted it.
I reached around, grasping one toned butt cheek in each hand, pulled her forward, leaned in and swept the tip of my tongue up between her lips, diving deep on the way up and under her hood at the top, until I could feel the hard little nub of her clit.
I felt her body jerk, heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her glutes tighten in my hands – and felt my cock twitching again.
I swept my tongue around her clit in circles, while she gasped and moaned and thrust her hips. I flicked it across her, back and forth, and her gasping increased in frequency, “Oh God, James, oh fuck, oh fuck, James oh fuck oh God…”
She was close now, right on the edge. Her whole body was shaking, her hips thrusting, her muscles tensed, her juices running down my chin.
“Ohmygod I’m going to cum…”
I released her left butt check and slid my finger into her pussy, deep inside, feeling for that telltale smooth patch, found it, and stroked there as I switched to sucking on her clit.
“Oh FUUUUUUCCCK! Oh my GODDDD I’m CUMMING!”
She was. And I intended to prolong it as long as possible. I held on tight to her gloriously tight little arse to stop her escaping while I continued to stroke inside at her G spot and continuously changed the pattern my tongue was tracing out on her clit – sucking it, swirling around it, flicking up and down, left and right over it.
“Oh oh oh oh FUUUUUCK,” she was actually yelling now. I kept at it as her body convulsed, watched her abs tightening and relaxing with each wave of her climax.
Finally she was past the crest, her orgasm subsiding. I slipped my finger out, and slowed my licking, barely caressing her now, her body still shuddering with each movement I made.
Finally she was still. I kissed her clit hood and looked up, met her eyes.
“James…” she gasped, still hanging on to the riser rail. I marvelled at her determination. She hadn’t let go at any point, even right through her orgasm. “James,” she breathed again. “Fuck me, that was good.”
I looked at her stretched out again. She looked amazing. Utterly beautiful, her face and her toned, athletic, petite frame almost bathed in that indefinable but unmistakable post-orgasmic glow. I had never wanted her so badly.
“You can let go now,” I grinned. She laughed and released the rail.
Then, “James. I’m done. Oh, God I am done.” She fixed me with that steely look I’d seen earlier.
“Get in here.”