Forbidden Fruit Ch 1: Look But Don't Touch
I was drunk, beyond drunk actually... I started before the party. There were a few people invited that I didn't want to see, so I figured if I was thoroughly liquored up it wouldn't matter... I probably wouldn't see them anyhow... It was a good plan, of course I was already half lit by the time I realized it was a plan at all... but I liked it so it was the plan
It backfired, of course... Don't plans always do that? You showed up late, and though I wasn't suppose to care or be upset, I was. I'd been fighting this attraction for months now, telling myself it wasn't right or fair, that I liked your wife, that I was dating your brother in-law... a million other reasons I couldn't do anything about the attraction...
It was difficult, because you were always teasing, flirting, taunting. Sometimes I was sure that you knew, that you were encouraging me... You were testing the limits just like I was. It started innocently enough. A look we would share when dirty jokes came up, throwing double-entendre back and forth. Everyone ignored it, thinking it was my usual flirty banter, but there was a look in your eye, sometimes, that made me wonder...
You started calling me "Tits" one day, because of this shirt I like to wear. Its low cut, sort of a tank top, see through and most of the guys tease me, tickling and tormenting, hoping that the shirt is as precarious as it seems, hoping that I will fall out as I squirm and struggle away...
I thought it was funny, though every so often I'd get a bug about it and start getting offended... That was when I started calling you "Cock" It seemed the appropriate response... Everyone thought it was funny. "Hey Tits!" "Yeah, Cock?" they'd laugh and we'd smirk.
After a while, it seemed more like an endearment, and that was when the other things started. The hugs would last a minute too long. I'd be snuggling on the couch with your brother, and you'd sit on the other end of the couch with my legs stretched across your lap. It seemed harmless to everyone, I'm that feline sort that is happiest snuggled or stretched in some awkward position (and didn't that get enough taunts, my being flexible...)
The lights went out one night while we were all watching a movie, I went to stand, rubbing my calf along the inside of your though as I stood, taking my time about it. I put my hand on your shoulder for support as I stood, my breasts in your face as I almost fell into your lap. The others teased about my being clumsy, but not you... You just smiled at me as I found the light switch and sat down again. Of course, I had to take the same painstakingly slow process sitting, so that I could get as comfortable as I was before...
One night when we were all out together, at a bar I think, you came up behind me, wrapping your arms around my waist and putting your chin on my shoulder. Your lips brushed across my cheek, your breath against my throat. I shivered and snuggled into you, giggling as you accidentally brushed your hands across my breasts, somehow managing to rub your thumbs across my nipples...
Another time, we were all out at dinner, you were sitting beside me. I squirmed around; trying to get comfortable but just couldn't do it. Finally I put my leg across your lap, kicking off the shoe on that foot. You teased about "footsies" and I just smirked.
I was wearing that black baby doll dress I found at a thrift store once, it was a bit short but I loved it... or maybe that was WHY I loved it... The dress pulled up when I stretched my leg out, showing a glimpse of black satin beneath. You muttered something about being a gentleman, tugging it down slightly... But not far, your hand 'casually' fell onto my thigh.
Your fingers kneaded the soft flesh of my inner thigh, rubbing back and forth. I shivered every time you pulled at the skin, shocks moving upward and back down again. I shifted, bringing your fingers higher, beneath the table where the others couldn't see. I leaned forward; elbows on the table, pulling the guys across from us into a conversation about something I knew didn't interest you. They didn't seem surprised that you ignored the conversation and just sat there, looking something between dazed and bored...
Your fingers brushed back and forth, shifting higher then drifting away. I was playing with fire, and that made it even better. I crossed my arms on the table, pressing my breasts against them so they couldn't see my hard nipples rubbing against the cold metal lining on the tabletop...
I shifted the conversation again, so that it would become a debate between the other two... I was having difficulty keeping my thoughts coherent, fumbling over my words as I tried not to let on that anything was up... You glanced over at me, smirking as your fingertips brushed higher, pressing just under the edge of my satin panties.
The waitress came with the bill, and you sat up straight, reaching for it. Smirking again at me while I tried NOT to be obviously disgruntled or distracted... I had been so close... I squirmed free when you tried to trap my leg between your thighs, practically running to the restroom to finish what you had started...
After that, nothing happened for a long time... Three or four months... I thought maybe you'd been embarrassed after the last incident, or that you'd decided I was a slut... We were never alone during that time and I started to wonder, because of the way your wife looked at me, if you had told her....
I tried to use the time to get over it, going through the million and ten excuses, reasons that I couldn't do what I had been doing, tempting and taunting you... It would ruin friendships, possibly your marriage, but I just couldn't manage to care...
That was another reason I got drunk that night, the night of the party... I thought I wouldn't be tempted, but like I said... It backfired.
You sat in the big recliner, the one you always claimed at my house. I pushed aside the footstool, kneeling at your feet. Someone made a joke and you smirked, saying that's why I was your concubine... We put in a movie, killing the lights. I was so sleepy, so comfortable. Your hands were moving through my hair, as if you had to leave your mark on every curl and strand... As if you hadn't already managed to claim me without even trying...