Rules Are Made To Be Broken 2

"What are you thinking?" You ask.

I don't reply, I can't. I'm trying so hard to be good, to not touch you, I promised I wouldn't, and yet you seem to be trying your hardest to push my endurance to its limits.

I don't understand you sometimes.

I don't understand myself.

***

Sitting on the beach again you reach out and push me. I know what you're trying to do. I want to grab your arms and pull you on top of me. But I don't. I promised.

Besides, in 20 minutes my parking runs out and I'll need to move the car. I know the moment you touch me I'll lose track of time. But still, my mind wanders...

It wouldn't take much, a quick tug on your wrists and you'd be falling on top of me. Your body pressed hard against mine. Would you pull away? I don't think so. Perhaps. Who knows?

I'd let my hands slip under your sweater, under your T-shirt, until I could feel your bare skin beneath my fingers. Reach up further to run my hands up your back to your shoulders. Close my eyes. Kiss you.

***

"What?" you ask. I've been staring again haven't I. Damn my brain! I blame you, you're teasing me now with your words, putting ideas in my mind. Must be good. Must not touch. Argh!

Walking back to the car we nudge, playfully trying to push each other into lamp-posts, bollards. OK it's an excuse, on my part at least, I just want to touch you. This may kill me by the end of the day, why do I say such silly things?

In the car I drive, you rest your hand on my leg, teasing me, I make you take it back. Rules are rules. As soon as I do I kick myself, mentally obviously, what the hell am I thinking? You want to touch me, I want to touch you, we break every other bloody rule we set, why not this one as well?

Because you warned me this would happen of course. That you'd want to 'indulge' me, and then you'd feel bad. And then I'd feel bad. And I don't want to spoil the good memories I have of this by bringing in bad ones. And I want your memories of this to be good as well. Why is life so complicated?

***

I park the car at the end of the beach and we walk again. We sit on a concrete block, I take off my shoes, you lie back, I spread out my jacket and sit cross legged looking at you.

"What?" You ask.

Your hand lifts my dress and you peek underneath. I glare, you lower it again. OK it's not touching as such but it's against the spirit of the rule.

You close your eyes and slide your hand up my leg. What happened to no touching?

I ask you this and you move your hand away, I want it back, damn you!

You tell me you need to leave in 15 minutes and until then I can do whatever I want.

I wish I could.

I take your hand and pull you up so you're sitting facing me. Under some feeble pretence I lay my legs over yours and lean forward until your forehead is resting on mine, your hands on my waist, mine slipping under your T-shirt to stroke your skin. I close my eyes.

In this position it would be so easy to kiss you, but I don't. Not because I don't want to, but because I know if I start something then I'll want to go way beyond kissing and rules are rules.

My mind wanders...

If I moved my head just ever so slightly then I could kiss you. Just softly. Gently. Then harder. Your hands would start to wander. I'd moan quietly against your mouth. Undo your trousers.

You'd sit on the edge of the block and I'd lift my dress up a little so I could sit on your lap facing you. It's a long dress, it would look reasonably innocent from a distance.

I'd move myself closer to you and release your cock from your trousers, under my dress obviously, there are still people around.

I'd move my panties to one side and lift up before sinking down onto your cock. I wouldn't bother about going slow this time, I'd just want you inside me.

And then I'd just sit there, enjoying the feel of you stretching me, until the people walked past again, just kissing you, my arms resting on your shoulders, my hands linked behind your head. Your hands on my hips, rubbing slowly over the material of my dress, your cock twitching inside me. I can imagine it so clearly.

What would I do then? I don't know, maybe I'd just stay like that for the remainder of the 15 minutes, there can't be long left, maybe I'd take advantage of an absence of people to ride you hard and fast so that we were both panting and satisfied afterwards. But if I'd kissed you, that would be how it ended.

***

15 minutes up, I open my eyes and reluctantly pull on my socks, your hand, once again, sliding beneath my dress whilst I'm occupied.

We walk back along the beach and I put my arm round your waist, yours round my shoulder.

In the car I rest my hand on your leg. You rest yours on mine, scraping your nails over my skin in that way you know I can't resist. Concentrating on driving is a struggle. You know this. I think you enjoy that knowledge.

Back at our starting point I take your hand, you climb out of the car, just touching one finger to my finger. Then you're gone.

***

Was I disappointed? Not at all.

I just wanted to see you. Anything more was a bonus.