Authors' note: Again, I really want to send a special thanks to Pearl_Prynne... Her insight in editing and giving me a better understanding of women has really helped. This story starts slowly but heats up in a big way. Enjoy, and I'd love to get your feedback Just_John1
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It started with a ride to the beach. A frequent visitor myself, I travel there on a regular basis. It's about four hours by car, faster by plane, but I can't get over the thought that God never meant man to fly. She'd been begging for months: she'll pay for the gas, she'll find a place to stay, she won't be a bother, all the platonic promises she thought might convince me.
It would be nothing to take her. I'd actually enjoy the company, but that was the problem. She was 25 (fifteen years younger than me), slim, attractive and desirable as hell. Long trim legs, pert breasts with nipples that demanded attention, slim smooth neck, and collarbones that called to be suckled... My attraction to her was so strong that I struggled at times not to reach out and caress her. Several times I had actually caught myself with my hand on her back as she passed through a door and realized I had let it linger a moment too long. The glances I received as she waltzed into the conference room, told me she knew.
She had this habit of completely distracting my day. She would pause at my door while I was trying to concentrate, and I'd smell her before I saw her. I have no idea what the fragrance was, but it was hypnotizing: not quite flowery, not quite fruity, just intensely feminine, the kind of smell you want while burying your head between the breasts of an incredibly sexy woman determined to fuck your lights out. Those thoughts would linger long after she left, the same way her scent remained in my office.
But I digress. She kept begging for a ride to the beach through an entire summer and then winter with no signs of letting up. I couldn't figure out why she needed a ride with me. She had her own car and a decent job; she could easily afford her own trip but seemed determined to go with me. She kept saying she'd find a place to stay but we both knew where she'd end up. I finally relented, and we scheduled a weekend.
As she bounced down her apartment steps dressed in shorts and a halter top, I was reminded again how attractive this nubile twenty-five year old was. Those long legs were at eye level and a shy grin spread across her face as my glance took her in while she walked down the steps. "Hi!" she said, in that small voice of hers. "You ready to go?"
"Yep! Your chariot awaits, my sweet." I was trying to be disgustingly cute to cover my nervousness. The "sweet" part just slipped out. She stopped, kind of tilted her head, and looked at me. "Oh shit, I've blown it already" was the first thought that ran through my mind. She stayed tilted for a second, which felt more like an hour or two, then shook her head, smiled, and walked around the front of my truck.
It was Friday night. We'd decided to make a long weekend of it, taking Monday off to enjoy the beach. Dusk was beginning to settle and the sky was beautiful. Red tinged wisps of clouds as the sun settled, and the horizon was that dark shade of blue, right before it turns to the full blackness of night, that you only see in a summer sky. It was still hot from the day, but a cool evening breeze took away the stifling humidity.
After an hour of driving through idle chit-chat, with my mind was left to wander. I opted for the old country road route and decided do anything I could to get this woman to sleep with me. I rested my arm on the seat back and let my fingers trail down over her shoulder. While just barely touching her skin, I waited for her reaction. And while hoping for something that would either tell me I was treading where I shouldn't or openly invite me to be more aggressive, what do you think I got? Nothing. No reaction at all! My arm was starting to go to sleep.
The skin of her shoulder was soft. So soft. I appreciated the warmth of her body in the increasing chill of the night and traced my finger along the lines of her collarbone. Finally in contact with someone I had watched for so long, it was killing me to wait for a response. I let my fingers travel along her graceful neck; I let my fingers get caught in her soft hair... I was having a reaction, big time. I wanted this woman in the worst way.
Then her head tilted down, giving me more room. I traced a little circular pattern on the wisps of hair that trailed down her neck. I snuck a look and saw that her breathing was becoming labored and her nipples were hard. Was it the chill of the night or had I found a hidden erogenous zone? I began to massage her shoulders, her neck, and the top of her back.
"You've never touched me like this before," she said slowly. And again I was left wondering whether it was a sign of disapproval or acceptance...
"Feels good?"
"Feels great, I wish you could give me a real massage right now."
Definite acceptance. I grew bolder and said, "I have to ask. Why did you have to come down with me?"
"I've been interested in you for a while, but I thought you'd see it as a school-girl type crush. And, I was afraid of what they'd think in the office."
"Do you really care?" I asked.
"No, but I didn't want you worrying about it... I wanted to know if you find me attractive but was afraid the location would taint your response. I've noticed how you touch me, and I thought you were interested but you've been so... I don't know, proper perhaps. Maybe reserved is a better word."
"I didn't want to scare you. You know when you come in my office... I can't help but think of you for hours after you leave."
Her laugh sounded like music, so full of youth, so full of energy. "I always struggle to get your attention. I thought you weren't interested at all. It was so damned hard to get you to take me here."
She lifted the armrest between us and slid over on the seat. My arm slipped down her shoulder to pull her close. Rubbing my hand up and down her arm, I felt my finger pass over the flare of her breast. A subtle turn of her body told me she wanted more. My fingers traveled over her breast, and my fingertip grazed the nipple that was poking out against her shirt.
"Hmmmm, that feels nice.
"Yeah, it does..."
and again that giggle.
Her breast felt so nice in my hand, warm, the nipple pressing against my palm through the fabric. I could feel her slightly arching her back, pressing her breast more firmly in my hand, seemingly offering herself to my caresses. I was as happy as I could be, as content as any man can be while driving 65 with a beautiful woman and her breast in my hand. And then, just to make sure that my feet stay on the ground, what does God send me? A tollbooth. I had to concentrate, take my hand away from nirvana, dig in my wallet to find change for the booth, feed it and drive away."
