Party Time

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


I really don’t want to go to this party. Trish and Frank are mates and all, but the sun is melting the tar on the road, and going outside is like stepping into an oven. It’s only the fact that work has been so shitty recently, and that there’ll be tons of free food and beer, that’s persuaded me. I don’t get paid till next week, and the fridge isn’t exactly bursting at the seams. I sling on a sleeveless t-shirt and a gypsy skirt, and wander down the road.

As I trudge up their drive, I can only see one car, a battered grey Volvo. Wonderful. I’m the only one here.

“Hi Sadie, you’re a bit early love,” Trish says as she ushers me into the kitchen. She looks sweaty and harassed. “You’re not the first one though, Stuart’s just turned up. He’s just helping Frank put out some chairs on the patio, like anyone’s going to sit out there in this weather.” She waves a hand at a frosted bowl brimming with brown liquid and ice cubes. “Help yourself to punch, sit outside and burn, whatever. We’ve got to go and get some more booze as someone forgot to go yesterday.”

Frank’s obviously in deep doo-doo — again.

I’m sampling the punch when Frank wanders in with a guy I’ve never met before. This is just great. He’s not much taller than me, not too ugly, but — and this is a big but — his hair is shaved to within a couple of mil of his scalp, and he’s unbuttoned his shirt so I can see his tattoos. I hate men with tattoos. And Stuart is covered in them.

“Right, we won’t be long,” Trish says before I can protest, or offer to go with her, or plead a sudden fatal illness. “I’m sure you’ll find lots to talk about! Now, no more fuck-ups, please?” And she shoves Frank out the door, and I’m left with Mr Ink.

We eye each other up. Does Trish think I’m so thirsty after my man-drought that I’ll fancy anyone? Even someone who looks like a thug? Still, I’ll try and be polite. They won’t be long — 20 minutes at the most.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” Oh God. I can’t believe I said that. Stuart stares at me, and then laughs.

“Hey, Queen of the small-talk!” He takes a mouthful of beer. “Mm, that’s so good — on a nice day like today.”

“Piss off,” I say. He takes my glass and fills it with punch without asking. I take it ungraciously.

“So, what’s your name, Foxy? What do you do? Where do you live? Holiday planned this year?”

I think about doing a runner, but my tummy rumbles, and I remember why I’m here.

“It’s Sadie, not Foxy — just because I have red hair doesn’t mean -“

“Whoa, hold on!” Stuart holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to shift the conversation on a few hours. I find that bit’s the worst part of parties, don’t you? All the inane questions, when all you really want to do is to ask something really interesting. Go on.”

“Go on what?” He’s annoying me now. Another mouthful of punch should numb the pain. Hm. It may take another.

“Ask me something really interesting. Act like you care what the answer is.”

My brain struggles for a minute.

“Ok, why so many tattoos?”

Stuart nods.

“An obvious one, but not bakırköy escort too bad for starters. They represent all the ladies I’ve loved. Each woman is etched into my skin, just as she is etched into my heart.”

“You are taking the piss, aren’t you?” He must have over a hundred tattoos, birds and tigers and dragons tumbling over his skin.

He laughs and strokes his backside.

“No, but I’ve reserved a place for you — just here.”

If I start screaming, maybe someone can rescue me. Oh, stuff it. Must try and be polite.

“You’re hilarious,” I say. “I suppose it’s your turn now.”

Stuart grins and swigs his beer.

“What’s the maddest thing you’ve ever done?” he asks.

I shake my head. If he’s trying to get make me like him it is so not working.

“Go on, was it really embarrassing? Was it a threesome with two guys you’d just picked up in a bar? Or two girls?” He leans against the sink, wiping his bottle against his forehead.

“It was nothing of the sort!” Oh please, please, let Trish and Frank get back soon. How long does it take to get a few bottles of wine?

“If you don’t tell me I’ll make something up to tell your mates,” he warns. “And it’ll be you being rogered by the gym mistress or something.”

I take another mouthful of punch to give myself some thinking time. I’m not sure what’s in this stuff but I’m starting to feel — well, maybe a bit horny. Come on, I haven’t had sex in — jeez, months. I’m entitled to have an itch, ok? But this guy is not the one to scratch it.

“Ok, ok! The maddest thing I’ve ever done was — well, it was a few years ago. I was younger. More naive.” I pause, drink some more, and remember.

It’s August, the hottest it’s been for years. Two of my friends and I have a Saturday free from chores, and we pack sandwiches and cans of soda and wander down to the river for a picnic.

We’ve got the river-bank to ourselves, and we stretch out underneath a willow tree. We dangle our feet in the slow-moving tepid water; we can look up and see leaves and the sun, and feel its warming touch on our arms and legs.

Holly silently suggests her idea by shrugging off her t-shirt and shorts and lying back on the grass in her white cotton bra and knickers. Susie and I follow suit, equally silently, all of us in quiet agreement that this is certainly a sensible idea, given that it’s really too hot to wear too much.

Susie grabs a can from the cool-bag and holds it between her breasts, gasping at its cold steel against her skin.

“That’s delicious!” she says. “Here, you two try it.” So we grab a can each, and find that she’s right. We lie back again, rolling the cans over our freckling chests.

“Oi, try this,” says Holly. Susie and I roll over and watch as she hitches off the straps of her bra and pulls the cups down to expose her raisin nipples. She smoothes the can over them, and we watch, fascinated, as they harden beneath its caress. So we try that too, lying on our backs underneath the tree.

I don’t know about the others, but strange sensations beşiktaş escort are starting to pulse between my legs. I don’t know what they are, but I daren’t ask. We’re mates but — this is totally unreal. I went to a really strict girls’-only school, and I’ve only recently gone beyond first base. I stroke my breasts with my free hand, and my nipples are just as hard as Holly’s, and just for a minute I think of asking her if I can touch hers.

Silence hums for a few minutes. I sneak my can down over my stomach, then hold my breath as I press it into my knickers. Droplets of condensation soak into the cotton, making them wet, making them cling to my skin. I press the can more firmly, stroking it up and down, feeling the round hardness against my own wetness. Something is pulsing harder and harder, I want something but I don’t know what it is — not then.

I bite my bottom lip as I drop the can. It rolls down the bank and plops into the water.

“Shit!” I scramble down after my drink. Too late. It’s lost in the mud and weeds. We have to share the other drinks, and whatever mood is in the air vanishes like a wraith.

“So, you sunbathed with your mates in your underwear,” Stuart says. “That’s it? I’ve done that since I was five years old. It’s hardly mad, is it?”

I blush.

“Was for me,” I mumble.

Stuart stares intently at my burning face.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” he says. “I can tell.” He moves in close so I can feel his breath on my cheek. I can smell beer, and cigarettes, and aftershave, and sweat, and damn — I suddenly want to lick his bare chest. I want him to —

“I bet that if I touched you now you’d be wet,” he says.

I bite my lip.

“That’s one thing you’ll never find out,” I say.

Without a word he picks me up, hands around my waist, and sits me down on the kitchen table. He hitches up my skirt and gently, firmly, opens my legs. He starts to stroke my thighs with his thumbs. I’m so in shock I forget that I don’t want him to touch me.

“Mm, lovely,” he breathes. His thumbs roam higher. They reach my panties, and begin to stroke my lips through the thin fabric.

“Stop it,” I murmur. Yeah, I really sound like I mean it.

He doesn’t hear me, as his thumbs slide between my panties and my skin and press into my cunt.

“Told you,” he says. “I could slip in there right now — you’re lovely and wet. Bet you taste nice too.”

He stops stroking me and licks one of his thumbs. He then kneels down in front of me and forces my thighs wider.

“No, please don’t.” I’m beginning to panic through my haze of longing and struggle against his grip. “What if someone comes?”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

I close my eyes as I feel him pull my panties to one side. His tongue slowly snakes up and down my lips, dipping in and out, flicking over my clit. I feel his mouth kiss me, then — jeez, he’s sucking me. No-one has ever done that to me before, and it hurts, and it aches, and I try to stop myself begging him to just fuck me. He’s sliding his fingers into beylikdüzü escort my cunt, two, three, I don’t know, and I can feel the goose bumps on my thighs starting to prickle.

“Oh Jesus!” My nipples are tingling along with my clit, and I need him to do something, anything. I want him to bite my nipples, to suck them so that the blood rushes and burns, I want to feel his cock filling me, hurting me.

Stuart stops, and gets up off his knees.

“Do you want to taste yourself?”

I nod, dumb with wanting so much.

He kisses me firmly, then opens my mouth with his tongue. I can taste myself, tangy and musky, and my clit throbs again. I suck on his tongue and lips and feel him groan.

I wrap my legs around him and pull him in close. His hard-on rubs my pussy through his jeans and I nearly explode with lust.

“Please,” I say.

One hand sneaks under my t-shirt. He squeezes my breast, catching my nipple between thumb and finger, sending fire through my body. With the other he unzips his jeans, and hitches them down. I can’t see anything, but oh boy, I can feel it. He rubs his prick up and down, following the path his tongue’s taken, massaging my clit with its head.

He kisses me again, then slides his prick oh so slowly into my cunt.

Jeez — it’s not the longest cock in the world but it’s thick, and the way he teases me, pulling almost all the way out, then sliding in hard, I know I’m going to come very soon.

“How does that feel?” His lips are on my neck as he pinches my nipples harder.

My cunt is starting to twitch and jump. As he bites my neck I can’t keep it in and cry out as I come, my cunt squeezing his gorgeous cock.

I hold on tightly as my orgasm burns through my body.

“Fuck me,” I gasp.

“Thought I just did,” he smiles. He’s still inside me, still hard. He kisses me — god, I’m starting to love his kisses — then fucks me until he shudders and groans into my shoulder.

We cling together for a moment, then he leans back and grins.

“And I thought you didn’t like me,” he says.

“I don’t.” I grin back. “You were just handy.” I stroke his face. He kisses my palm, then gently sucks my fingers.

“I can be handy again, if you like,” he says.

“Might be a good idea,” I say, “then maybe I can repay some of the attention you’ve paid me.”

“Can’t wait,” he says.

He zips up his jeans, and I slip off the table and smooth down my skirt.

“Another drink?” he offers.

“Why not?”

As he fills my glass, the back door opens. Trish staggers in with boxes of beer, while Frank is struggling with clinking bags.

“Oh God, the supermarket was a nightmare,” Trish moans. “We’d have been back ages ago if it hadn’t have been for this total arsehole in front of us dithering over balsamic vinegar for fuck’s sake.” She glares behind her. “Oh do come on, Frank, and don’t drop any this time.”

She dumps the boxes on the table then looks round at us.

“You two been alright? Sorry for leaving you. I hope you got on ok? I’ve no idea where the others are — bloody hope someone else turns up.”

I glance at Stuart. He glances at me.

“Absolutely fine,” I say. “Stuart’s been showing me his tattoos. I’m thinking of getting one myself, actually.”

Trish raises her eyebrows.

“Only a small one, only where a selected few can see it.” I smile at Stuart. “I was thinking, maybe a fox.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *