Terris Teasing Torments Ch 1

The very first inkling I ever got about teasing and the power it holds happened my freshman year in college in a T-shirt shop of all places.

I was walking the boardwalk with my boyfriend David. We had known each other a few weeks and had been spending a lot of time together recently. He was cute, smart, and a lot of fun. I always sensed an adventurousness about him, but that afternoon I was going to find out just how deep that streak would run.

Along the back wall were T-shirts which had words of them. One was "Porn Star," another said "Sugar" and the third, in beautiful gold glitter script read "Tease." I passed the first two and picked up the third, smiling. I held it up to my chest, modeling it for David. "What'd ya think?" I asked, joking around.

I wasn't sure what to make of his expression, which turned from startled, to slightly embarrassed, to eventually calm, even uninterested. I shifted back and forth, posing, watching him.

"Cute," he said, half smiling.

I tossed the shirt back and we headed out of the store. David had grown quiet, almost introspective. I wasn't sure what was going on. We walked about three blocks down in total silence before we both spoke at the same time, our words tripping over each others'.

My "So, where do you . . ." collided with his "Sorry I'm so quiet."

I put my arm around him and asked, "What's the matter?"

He looked a bit somber. "Terri," he started, "I really like you." I felt my heart drop down to my stomach, knowing what usually followed a line like that.

"But," I interjected.

He nodded softly. "But, I need to ask you about something."

I furrowed my brow, the response unexpected.

"Why did you pick up that shirt?" he asked.

"That? That was just a goof!" I said, relieved. "I mean, I love that kind of stuff, flirting, teasing, you know." I smiled at him, watching to see if his mood lightened.

It didn't.

"Well, it is something that I like and I might as well tell you this right up front. I think it is one of the things that drew me to you in the first place," he said, his tone almost confessional.

"You like flirting and teasing?" I asked, not sure what to make of his comments.

"Well," he continued a bit sheepishly, "I like it very intense."

"What you mean like unfinished hand jobs and stuff?" I asked, trying to understand.

His eyes opened wide and he became very exicted. "Yes, exactly."

"I love doing that kind of thing," I said shrugging, "I just didn't think guys liked it."

"Most guys don't," he said, lightening up considerably, "But, I don't know. For me, there is something really wonderful about it. I mean all that . . ." He stopped growing nervous again.

"Control?" I said immediately.

He nodded quickly, "Exactly."

Something in me clicked. I am not sure what, but it was like something inside me opened up.

Very slowly and very deliberately I said to him, "You want me to control you."

He nodded, looking down.

I felt a surge of power. "Say it," I demanded, firmly.

"I want you to control me," he said softly, looking down, in almost a whisper.

This time the surge was more like a rush.

"David," I said directly, "I want you to go buy me that shirt."

He smiled for the first time now. "Really?" he asked delighted.

We walked back to the shop, hand in hand, but this time I couldn't escape the feeling that I was the one holding his hand, guiding him, leading him and I liked it.

We walked to the back of the shop and stood in front of the T-shirts again.

As he reached for the shirt, I stopped him. I walked back around behind him and leaned forward, pressing my lips to his ear I whispered, "Not yet."

Gently I bit down on his earlobe, sucking and nibbling, I reached around and grabbed hold of his cock through his shorts. "Don't move I whispered," as I started to stroke him through his shorts.

Slowly I increased the pace, rubbing and kneading him firmly. I could feel his heart pounding and his breathing increase. His hardness was throbbing in my hand.

Abruptly I stopped, letting my hand trace over his stomach and ribs.

He let out a soft, involuntary whimper, which made me giggle.

I took his hand in mine and glanced over at the shirts. He picked one up and I led him to the counter.

He paid for the shirt and took the small bag and placed it in front of him, where a small wet spot had formed on his shorts.

"Let's go to your place, David," I said smiling. "We've got a lot to talk about. . . "