Don't get me wrong, here...I love to be teased. But I am human. There's only so much teasing a person can take before their hormones blot out every rational thought they might otherwise have. When that point is reached...watch out. All hell could break loose. And believe me, over the years I've had moments where I'd been overly stimulated to the point where I tried to do things that were physically, humanly impossible...and almost accomplished them. Under this type of stimulation, the old cliche of sex on a swinging chandelier would seem perfectly reasonable...and doable. Such is the power of testosterone.
For instance, I can recall one particularly hormonal night when a young "lady" teased and seduced me mercilessly in my car throughout an entire forty mile trip while I drove her home from a night club back in my misguided - though delicious - youth. By the time we got two-thirds of the way there, I was a drooling wreck. I had no choice but to pull over and plead with her to stop or I'd go crazy...and quite probably drive us right into someone's living room. She did me one better. At least it seemed so at the time.
Wordlessly, she pounced on me, tore at my shirt and pants, and proceeded to use every part of her body to make every part of my body burn and explode. The rest, as they say, is history. But the point of this little trip down memory lane was to illustrate my previous statement. So, let me just say that I learned a lesson that most memorable night... that the human penis was not meant to spend five plus hours thrusting in and out of a tight vagina...no matter how stout and staunch it is, and no matter how lubricated said vagina might be. Not to mention another thirty to forty-five minutes in an even tighter opening...besides being sucked and stroked and nibbled and...well, you get the idea. Suffice to say...my proud bayonet was battered and sore - irritated beyond words - for days afterwards. Simply bathing it was excruciating. Not to mention the strained, burning groin muscles. Anyone who's ever watched Tim Conway do his "little old man" walk has a pretty clear picture of how hilarious I looked trying to motor about for those painful few days.
That amusing picture having been unbiddenly thrust upon your recoiling brains, you'd think that a much older and wiser Thomas Michael would have the wisdom not to repeat such errors. A man of my...shall we say, maturity...should know that he can't possibly repeat such unwise acts without tempting fate. Even if I was still in my twenties I should know better than to risk the Tim Conway shuffle again. But, taking into consideration that two decades have passed since that night, one would think I'd have the common sense to max out any future liaisons at perhaps half that time...on a really good night...and only if loaded up with a truckload of stimulants, and following the tryst with an equal amount of pain killers. Alas, wisdom appears not to be my strong suit.
This brings us to the delectable Kimberly. Although the surface of this incredible creature is one of self-doubt and unjustified self-consciousness, beneath that surface smolders a white hot sexual dynamo. Her desires are varied and endless, her fantasies intricately intense. She is the chameleon of sex, adaptable to any situation, any sexual scenario. She is the perfect sex partner, giving and taking pleasure in equal amounts. To see her smile and lick the tip of her finger is to break out in sweat. To watch her tease you as she licks her own juices off the tip of that finger is to feel an unrelenting surge of blood in the veins of your manhood. Once she realizes you adore her body...desire it...need it...you are hers for the taking. And she will cater to your every fantasy, while somehow fulfilling all of her own along the way.
Thus, we arrive at last night. But let me begin my tale earlier in the day, for in reality she had spent the entire day teasing me. The teasing was mild at first...a wink, a sly smile, a lick of the lips, a quick stroke of her fingers on my lower abdomen...all could be construed as innocent to the unknowing eye. Kim and I both knew better.
The teasing escalated throughout the day. The winking eyes took to caressing my body boldly and without guilt. The sly, licked lips helped themselves to my own with increasing frequency, her tongue becoming bolder with each kiss. But when I tried to kiss back, she'd pull away, giggling or just grinning playfully. Her lightly stroking fingers lost their quickness and lingered where they stroked. Often, those fingers covertly squeezed whatever intimate parts of me might happen to be turned away from prying eyes. On several occasions, my buttocks were fondled in public, and a quick, accurate palm slipped deftly between my legs and cupped the warm softness it found there. At such times, Kim's eyes twinkled mischievously and her smile bordered on lewdness. The warm softness cupped in her hand remained warm, but not soft.
Kim knows how much I adore her round bottom, and at least a half dozen times she purposely rubbed it against me, usually pressing it up against my crotch, pushing into me, rubbing from side to side just a little. Once, after kissing me, she quickly turned around, putting her back to me. She grabbed my hand as if to begin walking off with me in tow, but then stopped short so that I ran into her. In the ensuing collision, she raised my hand up under her skirt and brought it to rest on her soft bottom. With her own hand she pressed mine into her sweet, warm behind, then quickly darted away, laughing, once again pulling me along after her. My fingers instinctively flexed to fondle her fine derriere, but they were too slow. They would have to be patient. I knew they would get their chance.
And so the day went. At every possible opportunity, Kim found some way to tease me with some part of her body. Kissing, touching, whispering...she spent the day bedeviling my overheated libido. By 6 PM, I was not unlike the drooling lad of two decades earlier. My body - every part of it, not just my genitals - was overheating, vibrating and crackling with that harbinger of procreation called lust. And Kim was keenly aware of it. After all, that was exactly her intent.
By the time we reached her place, Kim was basking in her triumph, knowing full well all she had to do was go upstairs to her bedroom and I'd follow her at warp speed to make mad, passionate love to her. But, what she didn't realize was that she'd done her job too well. All I needed was one more, minute stimulus to plunge me over the edge. And that stimulus was not long in coming.
The innocent act of a horny woman ascending a flight of stairs proved to be the final straw. Not so much Kim just walking up the stairs...but the way she walked up them. And then, of course, there was that incredible ass...swaying seductively from side to side as she went from step to step. It looked like a juicy apple beckoning me to bite it...to lick it...so slurp up its sweet juices.
My heart started to pound out a 70's disco beat in my chest. That pounding went all the way up into my temples. Looking back and down, Kim saw me staring at her bottom, and wiggled it one more time, a wicked, lip-licking grin on her face. That wiggle was Kim's last tease for the day.
