I don't know why I do it. Somewhere deep inside me I know that it's wrong in some way, but I still go there. It's also not as if I couldn't have any boy I wanted. I'm not blind, and I can see the effect I have on them. There's always someone new asking me out and I always say "no". It's been this way since I was sixteen. Now that I'm in my third year of college I get those signals from even older guys Those sub-verbal cues that speak as loud as words.
I haven't put on a bra today as I leave the house; I really don't need one. My breasts are medium-small and sit high and proud. I've noticed that guys will look at them just as much as they do at girls with large breasts when I don't wear a bra. I found I liked to tease them that way, although I usually do wear one if only to conceal my nipples. They have minds of their own, and will come out to play for quite unexpected situations.
In fact, one time in high school I got sent home because of those nipples. The vice principle had a hard time explaining to me just why I had to go home, but he did manage to tell me I would have to wear some support if I wanted to come back. After that I usually did wear a bra, but when I didn't I generally wore a vest or a jacket that would allow them to peek out if I wanted them to, but could be concealed in an instant if that stuffy vice principle came around.
I live at my parents house now, for various reasons. For one thing it's cheaper than the dorm, but mostly it's because of this habit I have. Just outside our back yard is a deep, tree filled ravine that is owned by the city. They call it a park, but it's mostly just a wild area that would be difficult to build houses on. The city did go in and build a network of trails through it, thus justifying it's title of "Park." Although the legitimate trails were created and maintained by the city, there are endless smaller trails making a spider web of interlocking routes made by animals and children over the years. One of these begins in our back yard. I follow it out and into the gloom under the trees.
I am wearing panties today. I know for some guys it's a serious turn on to know that a girl isn't wearing any, but for my purposes it's better to have them on. Guys always fumble with bra clasps, but I've never yet had a boy who had trouble getting the panties off- even if I had to help a little. Today I don't really plan on keeping them on long, but if I don't give him something to take his time with it all goes too fast.
I don't necessarily take the same route over the paths. There are a couple of ways to get almost there, and they all take about the same amount of time. The secret is the last hundred yards or so. We have to be careful not to make the trail look too used or some of the pot heads would find our place. Getting caught doesn't bother me, but those dumb asses would wreck the whole arrangement. At last I come to the cut off.
The trail to our place isn't hidden so much as undesirable. For the first twelve or fifteen yards it's overgrown with brambles and there's a pile of garbage in front of the entrance. After you get past these obstacles it runs in a jagged nasty twist up a steep embankment. Finally it ends up on a narrow point which is free of brambles and only has a little grass covering it. To the west you can look down and see row on row of houses and a tree lined hill on the other side of the valley. To the east are just trees and brambles rising up above you, screening you from the houses behind.
I'm there first, of course. I think he watches from behind a tree near my house, and then follows me in. He always waits long enough to give me a chance to settle myself, although it wasn't always this way. After the first time there was a long period where he would wait for me there, and I would come up behind him and nibble his ear or lay my boobs on his shoulder and tease him.
In those early days I think he needed my confidence to let him know it was okay. Even then I had complete control over the contact. I don't think there was ever any doubt that he would do anything I wanted, and the fact that what I wanted was going to get him off was the reason he kept coming back. Now though, as he gets older, he's wanting more control. In my little ways I'm giving it to him.
Today it's pretty warm, so I'm wearing a little skirt and a pretty tight tank top. The skirt is fairly modest, but the top is thin and almost shear. Anyone who sees me wearing that knows that I'm not wearing a bra, and that's the whole point. Just to make it easier on him I take a seat on the grass and flare the skirt out around me where I am not sitting on any part of it. Knowing what is coming has been making a tingle between my legs since before I left the house, but I'm not touching myself. I could, and normally I would, but when I do this it's important that the timing not be off.
He's so quiet now that I don't here him until he's right behind me. I know it's him because anybody else would have made enough racket for a small army. We both know our parts to play. I keep staring off into the distance as if I am simply enjoying the view.
The light footsteps I have heard stop just behind me, and I know he is looking down my neckline appreciating my curves. Even though my breasts are small they are quite well formed. Simple knowledge of what is about to happen has made my nipples hard as rocks and about the shape and size of raspberries. The temptation to touch myself is becoming unbearable, and he's sophisticated enough now that I'm sure he knows this.
The dear boy doesn't touch me yet. Sometimes he does, and sometimes I let him, but usually if he tries I make him wait longer. I think this is as difficult for me as it is for him, but if I don't do it this way I think it will descend into just occasional fucking in the bushes. I don't want that. Of course if that is all that it was I wouldn't have a problem with stopping.
This time he sits down beside me, carefully moving my skirt out of the way so that he is sitting on the grass. His shoulder is almost touching mine as he tries to appear interested in the scenery. In fact he's trying to look at my boobs out of the corner of his eye and he can just catch a glimpse of my thigh where he moved my skirt.
He's learned patience, I'll give him that. I wiggle around a bit exposing a little more thigh. My pussy is starting to ache and my nipples hurt, but I'm not giving him any sign of that. Once I dragged this on so long that I almost came without ever being touched, then when he did finally enter me I bit his shoulder and drew blood. I don't know how he explained that to his mother. Perhaps he covered it up with a bandage.
I look down, and sure enough he has an erection. It's not that I doubted myself, but something about his manner told me that today was different. He caught me looking down and looked away. I just smiled, and took his hand. "Touch me here." I say, raising his hand to my breast.
His hand was warm, even through the light cotton of my tank top. He cupped my flesh lightly and gave it a small shake so he could feel the nipple move in his palm. That nipple grew harder, if possible, and I desperately wanted him to take it in his mouth. I wanted him to suck it, and touch it with his tongue.
