Formally posted as 'Forbidden Fruit Ch. 01 Her Story'.
This story is a joint writing effort with author Fireball XL5. I'm writing here about her side of the experience. You'll definitely want to compare it to his side!
I can feel the electricity in the room as I watch his hand reach out to me, the beat of my heart and the blood rushing through my veins. Taking a deep breath I try to focus on the wall behind him, trying not to be too obvious that I want his touch, need his touch. For weeks now I've tried to show him in many different ways that I was interested. I remember catching his eyes and holding his gaze while we were in our meetings together, I've pressed myself closer than I should when we part ways with friendly hugs. I even got the nerve up to invite him here for some friendly conversation after the office party. I'm not going to blow it by coming on too strong.
My thoughts race inside my head as I take in my surroundings, though it is my home, everything looks different with Mike in the room, brighter, more electric. It's like seeing something you're doing but you don't realize it's happening to you, I'm sitting here imagining all the things I should be saying to make this moment stop, but the words just won't come out. He hasn't said anything to make me want him to stop, he hasn't said "Are you sure" or "Just tell me to go" . I was so scared he would, that he'd offer me a way out, a way to let myself continue to live this life without passion as I have done for so long. Praying that he wouldn't and very glad that he doesn't.
Watching his hand reach out to me is like watching a movie in slow motion, I want to press my breast against his hand and move my body closer to his. Finally I can feel his hand upon my turtleneck, I draw in a deep breath and bite my lip, relishing the first wave of heat course through my body. Letting myself take in the first touch of his hand, I close my eyes and allow my other senses to take control. As my head lays back I feel his fingers slowly trace the roundness of my breast, the outline of my bra, my breathing is heavier now. I can tell that my body is beginning to awaken to a new sense of self, as if a need that has never existed has awakened in me and I have to feed it, nurture it, and he is the feast I must partake in.
I lean forward and I feel his hands run across my breast until he finds the nipples. I whimper as he allows one hand to stay on my breast and removes the other; it is the loss of that one hand, that brings an anguished gasp from my lips. In it's place a moan comes forth, as I feel his lips on my mouth, the slight pressure is all I need to let my own basic instincts take over. His tongue slips to my lips to slide gently across them, letting my own want to take control. I taste his tongue with mine, letting the sounds of passion escape my throat. Our kiss is like a dam just beginning to open, allowing only a small trickle of water to escape. We kiss gently and slowly, but yet with a deep need we both want fulfilled. I feel my body press closer to him and my throat allows more sounds of desire to spring forth and as our kiss deepens, it takes me by surprise at its sweetness along with its sense of power hidden beneath it.
His hand is caressing my neck, I can feel the texture of his skin as he runs his fingers across it. His touch reminds me of butterflies flying through the air and resting ever so gently on an outstretched hand, soft and welcoming. Yet I hesitate, when I feel his hand pull at the material of my shirt, just like the butterflies would if they were presented with a new place to land, not knowing if it is safe, but wanting to find out what comes next. My mind takes control of my senses and forces me to take a moment, gives me another chance to end this torment of emotions, I pull back from our kiss and look at him. Closing the part of me that is still grasping to reason I hear myself say "Yes" and let my lips return to his pulling him to me and letting him lead us in the dance.
When Mike's hands glide up the sides of my body, my breath is suspended, as if a cap has been placed on a bottle and with the continuing movements of his hand along my ribs, the cap is slowly released and I am able to suck in more air. When those hands come to my breast, once again my mind sits back and lets everything else work for me. His hands stroke my breast through the material of my bra, feeling the texture of the design, as if he is outlining them, trying to determine the pattern, but I know that he is allowing me time to adjust to his presence, his ownership of my body. Taking the next step I lean toward him, and hear my sigh of longing as his hands reach behind my back and quickly unclasp my bra. I give a whimper of anguish as he leaves my lips and I watch him as he gazes into my eyes, he lifts my bra, allowing both of my breasts to be free of their confinement.
I can feel the tension in my body, the deep pit of longing starting to bubble up, as my nipples are touched by his hands and rubbed by his fingers. The pit awakens deep inside me and once again my mind is stirred to awareness. Grasping his wrist I look deep into his eyes and tell him "We shouldn't", I hear myself say these words, but everything in my body is fighting me, urging me to keep quiet, to let this new wonderful thing happen. He relents and removes his hands from my shirt and explores my body through the protection of the material. My breasts continue to feel the friction of his caresses, only increased by the turtleneck I am wearing. Knowing that he will stop when I ask him to, I give in to the trust I have grown to accept from him and I lean back. With a smile I take my hands and slowly lift my shirt, exposing my breast to his gaze, wanting him to see me and wanting to see his approval in his eyes.
I stare, as I watch his head come down to meet my breast, allowing myself to bask in his kiss as he places his hands on my breast and a sweet torment of emotions begin when the kisses stop just short of my nipple. My body feels so hot and my breasts ache for total freedom, to be released from the confines I have placed on them, I grasp the hem of my shirt and pull it free from my body, taking my bra along with it, not caring or knowing where it lands. My breathing is heavy and I feel my chest heave and my legs press tightly together, his mouth is devouring my breast, his hands knead and press them, his mouth continues to kiss and tease. Letting myself relax and giving my body to him, I fall back on the couch.
I know I will never remember if I spoke or not, for words did not seem to matter and if I did I myself would not have heard them. I saw myself, as if I were floating above this scene of love making, saw a woman who was flushed with passion, desire and need; at the same time, seeing a man gazing down on her beauty, taking in every inch of her, reveling in her perfection. Then as if I had control of my surroundings I allowed myself to float back down and to feel his arms caress my body. His touch running across my arms, pressing against my hands, then combing through my hair, it is everything I had imagined, as if I'm being worshipped or sculpted into a fine piece of crystal.
I long to touch him, to worship at his body, to place myself against him as an offering. With a smile on my face and a gaze of longing in my eyes, I find myself bringing my hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it off his arms and down his body. I know it isn't possible, but for me time stood still, and as I drank in the chest that faced me, I noticed the hardness of it the firmness of his body. His nipples had harden during the touching and kissing he had given me and I longed to have my body pressed tightly against him. I scooted myself to his chest and placed each hand under my breast, hoping that he did not find this foolish, but wanting so much for our bodies to meet, to get to know each other. When I felt our nipples touch, the muscles in my abdomen tightened and I felt the moisture of my body try to ease its way out of its hiding place.
Our kiss became more demanding as our bodies fused together and our nipples were the connecting puzzle piece to this complex tangle we were experiencing. We paused from our kiss to inhale great gulps of air and I felt myself falling back onto the couch. With my hair cascading down the side, and my breast heaving, I watched, with heavy lids, his body come up to tower over mine. Like a movie in slow motion I watched as he brought both hands to my breast. Caressing one, while kissing and kneading the other. I tried to move my body to his mouth, wanting him to take the nipple and draw it deep and suckle it, but he avoided my attempts to manipulate the moment. His kisses snaked across my breast as I felt a wave of hot liquid churn through my body, while riding this wave his kisses and hands made love to my breasts. After driving me through a torment of emotions my body lifts itself, trying desperately to have his mouth and tongue suckle my nipple, and finally getting what it wants when I feel it being covered by a blanket of hot velvet.