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Disrobed
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Disrobed
I had just gotten out of the shower when the doorbell rang. Damn! I knew
I should have started getting ready earlier. Now he was here, and I was
naked and dripping!
I smiled at that thought. Put that way, it didn't sound so bad. Still, not
quite the way I wanted to start the evening.
I mostly dried myself off, threw on a robe, and made it to the door just he
gave into impatience and rang the bell a second time. I raked my fingers
through my hair a few times, a token substitute for my usual preening, and
made sure my robe covered as much of me as possible. Not that it's got that
tough a job, mind you. I'm somewhat petite, with modest (OK, "slight")
cleavage, but even so, the robe has a tendency to separate at the top. But
it is flannel, and soft and warm and extremely cozy, and I don't ordinarily
entertain guests in it. Wearing it, I mean. *Me* wearing it. At least not
guests who haven't already seen everything underneath. He didn't fit this
category.
I put on my hostess smile, and opened the door. "Hi", I said, the master
of small talk. "Come on in."
"Thanks", he said, and did.
I waved in the general direction of what passes for my living room (when
it's not busy being my guest room, dining room, or office--this is a
_small_ apartment). "Make yourself comfortable. Sorry I'm not quite
ready."
He made no move to sit down. In fact, he made no move at all. He stood
there, not really staring at me, but more...studying. Not the leering
kind of study you'd expect a man to make of a woman wearing only a robe.
Oh, he probably gave me a quick once-over while I was waving around
and making excuses, but, if so, it was over before I noticed. Now, he
was scrutinizing my face, as if trying to memorize every detail. I
studied _his_ expression, looking for some clue about what he was thinking,
but could find none. I felt myself starting to blush at this unexpected
attention, and lifted an eyebrow, an unspoken question.
The gesture snapped him back to reality. Now he was blushing. "Sorry",
he mumbled. "Actually, you look...", he trailed off, embarassed.
"Yes?" I prompted. I was regaining my composure now, and no longer blushing.
I was intrigued, and intensely curious what he was thinking. His sudden
shyness, so unlike him, was a turn-on. Blushing made him look even cuter.
He hesitated, probably weighing how honest he should be. "Beautiful", he
blurted out. Suddenly, he looked straight into my eye, his confidence
returned. "Honestly, you look quite seductive." He held eye contact
waiting for my reaction.
As his confidence returned, mine again faded. I felt another blush coming
on, and looked down. I was embarassed by the compliment, and unsure of
how to respond. If I was turned-on by his shyness a moment ago, his
confidence, and honest boldness, were at least ten times as exciting. I
was keenly aware that my body was shielded from his view by only a thing
layer of flannel. I was sure that if he'd dropped his gaze, he couldn't
help notice my nipples hardening, but I knew he'd never stopped looking
into my eyes, though they were no longer looking back at him. I also knew
he didn't have to look, to know my nipples were hard, and that turned me
on even more. "Thank you", I managed to say. My voice was weak, almost
a whisper.
"With no makeup, and your hair still wet and uncombed, almost wild, you
are incredibly sexy." He paused, giving me a chance to reply, but I could
nt find my voice. "I'd like to kiss you. A long, passionate kiss. The kind
of kiss that joins two souls, and makes time stand still."
A closet poet--who would have guessed? That fanned the flame of my lust. I
didn't want to stop. I raised my eyes to his, pleading. "And then?" I
whispered, an urgency in my voice betraying my feelings.
"Then", he said, "I would slip my hands inside your robe, and reach around
to your back. I would kiss you again, as I caressed your soft skin, working
from your shoulder blades slowly down to your buttocks."
I dropped my gaze again, and stumbled towards the couch. The flames were
getting hotter, and my breathing was getting heavy. I was getting light-
headed, and needed to sit down.
I was dimly aware of him following me as he continued. "I would gently
stroke your beautiful, firm, little ass." Somehow, it seemd sexy,
rather than crude, when he said it. I let myself drop onto the couch,
leaning back with my eyes half-closed, enjoying the sensations he had
awakened within me.
"Gradually, my touch would become firmer, a massage, a gentle kneading."
His breathing, too, was more labored now, and his speech sped up. I
spread my legs slightly, not knowing or caring what was revealed. He knelt
on the floor in front of me, still staring into my eyes.
"I would not linger there long, however. With so many of your treasures
yet to explore, I would regretfully move on. My hands would slide up
your sides, my thumbs slipping across your stomach and up your ribs.
Finally, I would reach your breasts, and gently massage them, working slowly
from the outer edges to your erect nipples. I would continue rubbing
your nipples, while I while removed my lips from yours, and kissed my way to
your breast. As I did with my hands, I would trace my lips from the edge
of one breast, nuzzling my way the nipple, while working its companion
with my hand."
The fire had become an inferno, blazing out of control. I spread my legs
a little wider, and gently rocked my hips back and forth and side to side.
The motion provided some stimulus to my aching sex, as did the soft flannel
against my rock-hard nipples, but it was not enough. Somehow, I resisted
the overwhelming urge to touch myself, and the even more powerful urge to
attack him.
His breathing was harder now, and faster. His voice dropped to a throaty
whisper, as he went on with the fantasy. "Again," he said, "I would not
linger, but soon would start kissing my way down your belly, until I reached
your vulva. I would give it a quick kiss, then continue my advance, kissing
and licking down one thigh, then back up. Another quick kiss on your outer
lips, and then down and up the other thigh."
My "outer lips" were getting wetter by the second, and every time he
mentioned giving them a "quick kiss" a shiver ran though by body. This
was the most arousing foreplay I'd every experienced, and he hadn't even
touched me!
"As I reached the top this time", he went on, "I would offer your sex the
attention it so desparately deserves." I tingled in anticipation of what
was to come, knowing they were just words, but that I would feel them as
intensely as if they had a physical presence.
"I would kiss and lick around your lips, gently tasting just inside. Slowly,
my tongue would grow bolder probing its full length into your depths. My
fingers and lips would come to its aid, rubbing, licking, sucking, nibbling
you to a screaming, earth-shattering orgasm."
The most powerful shiver yet coursed through my body. Not quite an orgasm,
but as close as you can get. Call it a "neargasm".
It took me a moment to recover. Even after the internal trembles settled
down somewhat, the inferno remained. I opened my eyes. He was still
kneeling, his eyes lock onto mine, waiting for me to speak.
"No", I said.
"No?" he asked, concerned, disappointed.
"No", I repeated. "Some other time. Right now, I can't wait. I need to go
right from the kiss to the screaming orgasm."
He let out a relieved sigh. "Me, too", he said, standing. As he rose,
I captured him with my legs, pulling him on top of me. Our mouths crashed
together for that time-stopping kiss, and we squirmed into a prone position
on the couch, he atop me. My legs were still wrapped around him, and I used
them to pull my crotch tight against his. I squirmed and wiggled, rubbing
myself against the erection inside his pants. I didn't think it possible,
but his kiss, his soft, warm lips and hot, gently probing tongue, made me even
hotter.
I pushed him away, and tore at the buttons of his shirt. A few popped off,
but neither of us cared. He struggled with his belt, and I unwrapped my
legs to make it easier. He stood, and yanked off the rest of his clothes,
while I shrugged off my robe (I like to be _naked_ when I make love, at
least in private). As soon as he was nude, I again captured him with
my legs, and guided him into me. He resisted, trying to enter slowly, but
I would have none of it. I prodded him with my heels, and he relented.
"Hard and fast", I said. "I need to come."
Apparently, he needed to come as badly as I did. He slammed into as hard
as he could, then quickly pulled out and slammed back in. In, out, in, out
as fast as he could go. My orgasm started on the first stroke, and built
quickly. By the third stroke I could no longer count, and had reached an
orgasmic peak higher than any I had ever known. He kept pumping, and
I soared even higher. I remained there forever (unlike kisses, orgasms
really _can_ make time stand still), until he shuddered with his own climax,
and collapsed on top of me. We lay still for several minutes, gently
descending back to the world.
"OK, now", I said, when it was time to break the silence.
"Now?" he asked, confused.
"Now", I repeated. "All the stuff you said before, from the kiss to
the screaming orgasm. Do it now. Only I don't scream when I come; I just
sort of gurgle."
"So I noticed", he replied. "Well, then I think I can make the change
from 'screaming' to 'gurgling'..."
He kissed me again, and this time, time really _did_ stand still. Maybe
it was an afteraffect of the orgasm.
He did make the change, by the way. From "screaming" to "gurgling", that
is. Quite nicely, too. Though I almost _did_ scream that time. And many
times thereafter. It was a delightfully long night.
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