He was a powerful force. Not overwhelming, but not easily put to rest, either. He was insistent, and he wanted to be with me.
Rodrick was a large man, fit but not quite toned, of a dark complexion. He dressed simply, wearing a simple dark green shirt with a pair of classic dark jeans.
We sat next to each other at the basement get-together in the center of a circle of couches. As the group talked, he kept putting his hand on my leg.
"Stopp, Rodrick," I insisted feebly. Everyone was focused on us. I was hot, and I knew it. Rodrick and I had slowly become friends, and it was clear to everyone that he now wanted to become closer friends.
"Let's be together, Ashley," he said. "I know you like me, and I like you."
I pushed his hand away. "I'm not sure," I said, in front of everyone. I actually was pretty darn sure I wanted to fuck him. I only wasn't so sure I wanted everyone to know that. Or maybe it was that in this group I was a queen, and for me to get distracted by a boy just didn't feel right. They needed my presence. But God, was I tempted. Even as I sat there I imagined the bulge in his underwear: a thick, half-hard caramel cock caged by a pair of boxer briefs. I almost licked my lips before I remembered where I was.
It went on like that for the evening, and at some point I found myself sitting in his lap. I got wet feeling his hard package pressing against my butt cheeks. Still I felt myself a queen, Rodrick being my knight who protects me, and holds me, and... provides other services to me...
Both of us were well-teased by the end of the evening. At least I certainly hadn't had my thirst quenched. I wanted him bad. And so when he was the last one left, it didn't take long.
"Ashley, I like you a lot," he said. I looked into his light-blue, misty eyes. He had the twinkle of humor in his eyes that never went away, as if he didn't take anything seriously. When I was scared it made me doubt his sincerity, but other times it gave me a joyous, uplifting thrill. Anyways, I didn't know if he meant what he said, but I didn't really care either way. I wanted him. Why do boys always think their the ones in control, designing the situation to get what they want?
"I like you too, Rodrick," I said, in my typical girly voice. I felt calmer now that I was alone with him.
"I'd love it if we... spent more time together," he smiled a short cocky smile, as his hand drifted onto my thigh.
"I'd like that," I said, returning his smile. That's it, baby, nice and smooth. Not too fast, but not so slow it's boring, either.
"Come here," he said gently, beckoning me to sit on his lap.
I obliged, putting my legs on either side of him, my arms wrapped around his neck. I felt safe and taken care of, sitting on top of his generous figure, and feeling him grow under me.
I know how these things go. If you don't tease and small talk, the boy will be blunt and harsh with his love. So I prodded him. "You were very... insistent tonight, Rodrick."
He knew better than to kiss me yet. "It's probably because I like you so much." His cocky smile was replaced with a warmer one. Good, making love without any love is no fun at all.
Hmm... Maybe I was being too submissive and withholding here. I don't think I even wanted him to 'like me so much'... i.e. if I saw him that way. Truly, there was really one thing I wanted. Yes, it was best to just take it, then.
