It’s a hot and spicy Saturday in town today. Like, really hot. The kind of hot where you feel you really have no choice but to wear a skirt. And not just because it makes you feel super cute, but because you’re worried your lady bits might suffocate without proper air circulation. At the same time, no matter what you do, your thighs will stick together because apparently, heat like this turns sweat into a glue down there.
Yeah, that’s the kind of day it is. And frankly, I'm loving every sweaty, sticky second of it.
I’m in a park in the middle of the city, lying on my stomach in the fresh-cut grass. I feel the individual blades graze and poke the edges of my legs and forearms as I contemplate the perfection of the day. With his arms behind his head, my current Adonis is lying on his back in the grass not three feet away from me.
I glance over at him. The scent of whatever tastefully masculine cologne he is wearing wafts gently on the breeze towards me. My eyes lazily trace the length of his outstretched figure. I can see the silhouette of his ribcage expand beneath the cotton of his plain grey T-shirt every time his lungs fill with the fresh summer air. A strip of caramelized skin peeks between the contrasting edges of his light shirt and indigo-dark jeans.
What a babe.
He catches me looking at him and grins, his pink lips glistening in the sunlight. I’m thinking of how much I just want to kiss him on the mouth right here now, but I’m also still trying to figure out what’s actually going on between us. Does he still have a girlfriend? I’m not sure, because he doesn’t talk about it, and I haven’t asked. Do I care? Not really. I’m not exactly looking for his love.
I can’t see his eyes through the glint of his sunglasses, but I imagine that he is checking me out too. As if he heard the rogue smile betraying my thoughts, he turns his face in my direction.
“This is perfect,” he says. I say nothing, but nod in agreement.
He rolls over onto his side, leaning on one elbow, and stretches his other arm out towards me. Two fingers gently stroke the back of my bare leg. If I hadn’t shaved this morning, my hairs would definitely be standing up right now.
“I had fun the other night,” he says. “When I came over to your place,” he adds.
The explainer wasn’t really necessary, I think as butterflies take flight in the part of my abdomen that is pressed into the lawn. I know exactly which night you're referring to...
“I had fun too,” is all I manage to muster out loud. Despite the fact that we've already acted a few times on our mutual attraction, talking to him is still difficult most of the time because the words tend to trip over my tongue on their way out of my mouth. It’s especially noticeable when I’m a little nervous and a lot sober. Like I am right now.
“I was thinking about how you looked from behind,” he continues. I could feel his hand moving closer and closer towards the hemline of my skirt.
“Oh yeah?” I’m trying to keep my cool, but I can feel my pulse pounding back from the earth beneath me. I wonder for a moment if he can feel the echoes of these mini-quakes in his fingertips.
“Yeah, your ass was perfect.” He rubs the edge of my skirt between his thumb and index finger.
“Thank you.” I smile a little sheepishly and look back down at the grass under my hands. Hearing the words are flattering, of course, but still they leave me feeling a little embarrassed at the same time.
“That’s funny,” I say, emboldened by him opening the conversation. “Because I was thinking about how much I liked having your dick in my mouth.”
I see his eyebrows raise beyond the top edges of his sunglasses. That was absolutely the right thing to say.
He smiles without giving too much away. “Mmm…” he utters contemplatively.
We linger there together for a few moments longer. I feel a little hazy from the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on us. My whole body is pulsating in the warmth.
We look back at each other, exchanging a thousand words through our mischievous smirks.
“I would really love to fuck you right now,” he says. Shots fired, point blank. The words hit me right in the gut, wiping the last of my shyness away.
I glance around at the dozens of families with small children who happen to be sharing our summer paradise with us. “We should probably go somewhere else.”
“I like the way you think,” he says standing up.
We brush the splinters of grass from our bodies and walk with a cool sense of anticipation towards his vehicle.
But now the big question is where are we going to go? The parks are full of people because it’s such a beautiful day. Plus it’s the middle of the afternoon, making dark hiding places a little scarce.
Can’t go home because the revolving door of roommates makes it hostile territory. Not to mention the fact that my disturbingly creaky bedframe will be obnoxious and vocal in protest.
We do a little tour of the downtown core. I notice him in the middle of a futile attempt to adjust his boner while he drives. I can’t help but laugh at his discomfort.
“Look at this!” He grabs my hand and puts in on his crotch. “This is what you do to me.”
I shamelessly stroke his package, trying to remember what he looks like with his pants off. Until now, we've only ever tangled in the dark.
As we approach a red light, he reaches over to lift up my skirt and checks the status of my underwear. “Hello,” he says cheekily.
I giggle and shake my head at him. He grabs and squeezes my thigh a couple of times. The way you do when you’re trying to find that perfectly ripe avocado in the bin.
I’m melting. My hips try to shift forward, but my bare thighs are stuck to the leather of the car set. I don’t know when my eyes closed, but I open them to find him looking at me instead of the road.
His hand slips down past my panties, beyond the sweat, to the puddle forming between my thighs. His eyes are looking at his hand through the veil of my skirt, imagining my pussy. “Watch where you’re going!” I moan, gesturing out to the moving traffic around us.
He sucks his plump bottom lip in. “Oh my god, this is terrible,” he says, putting his hand back on the steering wheel. His eyes widen and he flashes me a hungry smile before resuming his scan for a place to park.
“What’s this?” he says to himself, noticing an unattended parkade gate. The arm was up, inviting us in, and we snake our way through, up to the roof of the parking complex. The sun is high and beating down through the sunroof onto my lap as he nestles his sleek black SUV into an empty corner of the rooftop lot.
“I think we found it.” The perfect spot to hide in plain sight.
He parks and looks around the inside of the vehicle, setting out a rough game plan in his head.
He turns around to evaluate the back seat. I look at him. He looks at me.
“Hm. This could work,” he says. Casual confidence. I like how he takes charge without telling me what to do.
He gets out of the car, stretching as he looks around one more time. Coast is clear. He crawls in through the back door. I wriggle into the back seat to meet him there.
We’re sitting at opposite ends of the back seat now. He leans back comfortably into the corner formed by the bench and the door, and rests his arm on the headrest.
“Hello,” he says again, appraising me.
I’m nervous again, paralyzed by shy excitement. I hesitate to move too quickly.
“Hi,” I say, again, a little sheepishly. I’m not sure what my hang-up is. We are clearly on the same page here. Just go for it, girl.
He tucks his hand into his pants and seems to be lightly stroking himself.
“Let me help you with that,” I say before I let the thoughts distract me again. I move towards him, swatting his hand out of the way so that I can unbutton his jeans.
Can I just say how much I hate maneuvering these damn button flies?
Partially straddling him in the back of his SUV, I kiss him softly and slowly while I fumble with each button. I’m trying to make it seem like I’m moving in a slow and sultry way, but in reality, every button is a new, very real struggle.
Finally, I release the last button. I press my lips against him with a little extra oomph because I’m actually giving myself a high-five in my head. It’s the little things.
I slide my hand between his jeans and his underwear and stroke his crowded erection whole-handedly. I imagine that can't be very comfortable, so I pull back and tug at the edges of his belt. He understands this as a universal gesture for “take your fucking pants off already” and gets to it. He leans into the car door to hoist his hips up and slide his jeans down to his ankles.
I sit up, facing him. I rub my palm up and down the length of his cock. His underwear holds and frames his package nicely, but the swollen head is trying to peek past the waistband now.
I’m stalling because, on one hand, I want him to grab me, accost my mouth with his, explore every inch of my body with his tongue, and trace light circles in the places that don’t get much attention. But then I remember that we’re not here for a long night of passionate lovemaking in a four-poster bed.
This is a “we’re hot, and sweaty, and horny, and young enough, and wild, and free” kind of day. An “I want you so bad that I almost got into a car accident, so what are waiting for” kind of day. A “watch this, I’m going to blow your fucking mind with my blowjob skills” kind of day.
I yank at his underwear and pull that down past his knees too. His cock is stiff, bobbing up and down as if it had a mind of its own, sniffing around for whatever had successfully stirred it from its slumber. I’ve never really found the penis to be an attractive appendage, but I can’t deny that I get all kinds of excited when they stand at attention for me. Because of me. And if I’m being honest, this one might be the nicest dick I've ever handled.
I run my hand up his shirt, over his broad chest, around the side of his torso, back down to his bare hips. I flash him a devilish grin and lean down to get a closer look at his cock in the daylight. Huh. I didn’t realize until now that he wasn’t circumcised.
He has a neatly trimmed patch of hair to frame the base, but his balls are smooth as can be. I bury my nose into the crook of his groin and inhale him as I trace my tongue along a strained inguinal ligament. I let the tip of my tongue loll along the underside of his balls as I move to do the same on the other side. I breathe hot and heavy over his testicles as my face glides slowly upwards. I run the flat of my tongue up the underside of his shaft all the way to the base of the tip.
He shifts and squirms exactly as my touch tells him to.
“Oh my god,” he swoons. Sounds like something between a confused objection and a prayer.
I wrap my lips gently over the head, press into the fleshy tip swollen with anticipation, and move further down the shaft until I have most of him in my mouth. I purse my lips on the downward stroke, deliberately pressing the flat of my tongue harder into his shaft along the way.
He carefully gathers my hair with both hands into a makeshift ponytail so he can watch as I move his cock in and out of my mouth, slathering it with a thick coat of saliva dredged up from the back of my throat.
I shift my position so that I am on all fours to invite him to get a little more handsy with me. He shoves a hand past the neckline of my shirt to grasp my breast. He fondles it clumsily, trying to get past the bra obstruction.
Giving up, he reaches around to palm my ass. He lifts up the edge of my skirt and caresses the curve from waist to inner thigh, finishing off by grabbing a handful of flesh. I swoon into a downward thrust, taking his cock even deeper. I can feel the pulse in my labia thumping into the tightening seam of my panties. My hips gyrate spontaneously and push back into his grabby hands.
I take his cock in one hand to lift it up to make room for my nose as I tongue at his balls. I'm reckless and messy, rubbing my spit into my own face. I revel in the sensation of unraveling myself to compel him into submission. I lick around one testicle, then take it into my mouth, sucking on it before a deliberately slow release. I do the same thing on the other side. With one hand, I cup his sack to lift it towards me and lick everything at once, back and forth, with the flat on my tongue.
“Your mouth feels so good,” he groans. I giggle into the flesh still filling my mouth. I know I do a good job, but a pat on the back is always appreciated.
He pulls my shirt up over my head; I sit up and remove my bra. He fondles both of my breasts at the same time, pulling me in closer so that he can take a nipple in his mouth. He sucks aggressively, and presses gently around the nipple with his lips, as he moves one hand underneath to grab my ass again.
“I love your ass,” he says.
I giggle again. Further empowered by his praise, I lick at his neck and move my way back down. I'm not done yet.
As I wrap my lips tight around his girth once more, he pulls my underwear down and distractedly gropes at my pussy, my ass, up the length of my spine, under my breasts.
I feel heat and pressure swelling in my clit, gravity trying desperately to pull the blood downwards. I put one hand between my legs, just to see how turned on I really am. My pussy pulsates with yearning; I coat the tips of my fingers with my wetness, and rub my clit gently back and forth a few times. I'm terribly aroused, but too far from orgasm to make the effort right now. I'm too consumed by consuming him.
I bring that same hand back to meet his balls, massaging and tugging gently at them as I continue to swivel my head up and down the length of his shaft. I can feel him rise and press into the edges of my mouth. The skin around his testicles grows taut and begins to pull them up in towards him. My massaging hand fights against this motion, gently coaxing his balls back down into my hand.
His moans deepen and intensify. The hand in my hair tightens down on its grip. His other hand joins at the back of my head and follows along with my bobbing motion.
I feel his pulse amplify in my mouth. I deepen my downward thrusts, pressing him into the back of my throat at the bottom of each lunge. The intensity of my suction increases on the upward pull. Without slowing my repetitive slide, thick saliva to oozes from the back of my throat all the way down the length of his shaft, pooling on the seat beneath us.
I’m still controlling the pace, but he lifts his hips to thrust back up into my mouth. I feel the energy surge before the physical eruption – his testicles fight the tug of my fingers, and he goes quiet for a moment. The silence is followed swiftly by a grunt of pleasure as he releases. I keep him in my mouth, sliding slowly up and down the length before releasing him entirely. Saliva and semen mix together and pour down the sides of his shaft, over his testicles, into my hand.
“Holy fuck,” he says. I sit back and watch him revel in his bliss. I trace light circles around my clit as he struggles to remember his name and what year it is. He takes removes both of his socks to wipe up the mess we just made, rolls them together, and tosses them onto the floor.
He leans back once again. “Wow. That was amazing.” He raises his hand, and I light up with the satisfying clap of our palms.
Nothing beats the post-blowjob high-five.
More by Queen Jayne:
The Birthday Bash
Comings and Goings
Diamonds and Pearls
The Edge of Glory
Expressions of Grief
For Dommestic Use Only
Strangers on a Train