Never Told

This is my first story, so constructive comments are welcome, especially since I want to make an audio recording.

No, this isn't about me, sorry.

Please enjoy! :D

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I'm not exactly sure when this game started between you and I. Well, not really a game, except there seem to be these rules.

The biggest one being that I can't let you know.

You thought it cute when I gave you a drunken kiss the night we first met. A kiss for driving me home. My friend had called you to join us, save us. She had told me all about you and I knew before I met you, I would never be yours, and you'd never be mine. Just two different souls living such mismatched lives.

I hadn't expected the unspoken electricity and friction we would have. A sparking live wire next to puddles that living flesh stumbles through.

There is no point for me enumerating the thoughts of why not.

What I'm trying to express now are those thoughts that haunt me as I fall asleep, those other thoughts invading my mind when I'm steadily hunting through erotica... why my mind inevitably slides to you.

Why is it that with just one "Oh." you can make me so viscerally aware of my body, my ears prick up, body and mind align, poised to do whatever it takes to get you to be genuinely intrigued again?

Would you make that sound again if I tell you what I imagined after the last time we talked, good friends, on the phone?

I wanted that night for you to call me back, concisely inform me you were near. Inflamed, my mind could hear your voice. "Get into something you know I'll like, and wait on hands and knees on your bed with your end towards the door."

Loose fish nets and pumps later, I'm choosing the dress that will please with care. It's the red one, cut short of the knee, binding my waist tight, flaring out to accentuate my lower curves. The top twists into a knot around my neck forming two hammocks for each breast. The breasts you once drunkenly confessed to some woman pursuing me were absolutely and unbelievably perfect.

I'm acutely aware of the heat and moisture in my nethers as I position myself per your orders, and wait,

and wait,

and wait.

A startling sound of the door opening, changing the pressure of the room. A presence behind me, pausing in the door frame, throwing shadow that I see before me. Nothing is said.

The warmth and weight of a hand on my thigh, and then another on the other. A finger traces one of the ropes of the fishnet, pulling it from my flesh, and letting it snap back, and I hear a quick release of breath. The other hand languidly runs up the inside of my leg, and slowly drags the fabric up and over my ass. Another release of breath as it's revealed there is no underwear. The feeling of calloused fingers tracing the curves and folds in between my legs have no clear goal in mind. They're unhurried, just feeling the skin, and heat, exploring as if memorizing each part down there. I feel the exhalation of breath on my vulva, and the sound of a long inhalation, smelling deeply the scent of my pussy.

My muscles twitch as an all too brief tongue licks down from where my vaginal opening ends to the tip of my clit. I hear sucking noises, and feel fingers, now lubricated, prodding at my opening. A digit presses inside, pushing against walls, seeking moisture. It's extracted, and I swear I hear the moist sounds of a mouth moving. Are you licking those fingers, tasting my bright acidity and cream? No time to wonder long, for two fingers are thrust pressing me inside, pulling me apart. They move, insistently, a bit faster now, until they finally curve downwards towards my clit, rubbing that wall with a staccato of pressure and rubs. I've been maintaining my dignity, saying nothing, making no noise. We never talked about any of this, and now it's happening. But I can't stop my legs from shaking. The fingers are removed again so suddenly, leaving me desperate for more, and I feel a hard smack on my ass. Footsteps walking away from me, and your voice "Get up, come out here."

Blushing like mad, I stand, eyes downward, and walk out of my room.

The table had been set, a pasta dish. You say nothing, and eat. The butterflies in my stomach make dinner the last thing I want, but I sit across and wait for you to be finished. Eventually, you dab your mouth with a napkin, and push away from the table, a piercing look at me. It is apparent I am to make the next move. I must do something to please you, but not something too predictable.

An idea forms, I walk to the cabinet. Your eyes wander over my legs, and breasts as I move. I grab a container of honey, and you cock an eyebrow, but do not object. I kneel then in front of you, balanced, even in my flow of movements. I unbutton and unzip your pants. Hands on each side, I pull them off, along with your boxers, exposing your half erect penis to me. I rub my palms warming them, then cup around your shaft, one hand gripping assertively and gently pumping it. I feel it grow like it is its own living thing. With my other hand I dribble a bit of honey on it, letting the viscous fluid flow down. I see you suck air between your teeth, your eyes focusing on me. I look to my work- opening my palm, I stick out my tongue and lick from balls to shaft, removing a dribble of honey as I go.

No sooner that I lick to remove the fluid, but more gold flows to unmake my progress. So I must lick all the way round, repeatedly if I'm to clean up this mess I've made. Risking a glance upward, I see your eyes glazed over, and a smirk on your lips. I go back to the messy job of trying to remove all the honey, licking, sucking, swallowing, bobbing my head to reach all angles. Eventually your cock is clean. I can wrap my hand around you again, and I suck the crown between my lips, rubbing the corona with my tongue, and slightly squeezing and pumping you with my palm. You finally break your stoic silence and I swear I hear a groan escape your lips. You place your hands on my ears and gesture me to get up. Perhaps you don't want me being in control now. I swirl my tongue round the tip one last time, a signature, then I raise myself up to face you.

You lean forward and with your middle finger place your fingertip on my clavicle and lightly trace it to the valley at the bottom of my throat then plunging down the line of my cleavage until it's nestled between my breasts.

"Untie the top of your dress." You demand, all power reclining, a shirt with no pants below, and no doubt that you are in command of the moment. My arms bend up and I untie it around the back of my neck, fumbling with a knot I can't see. Then the two pieces of fabric drop, and I see you breathing in deep, eyes dropping to them. Moving to the edge of your chair you pull me closer by my waist. Your hand reaches forward, grabbing one. And then close your eyes and wrap your lips around the other's nipple, sucking, tongue lashing around as they harden. Your fingers encircle the other nipple as your teeth capture the one so gently licked. You add pressure and I whimper. Does it urge you on to hear me? Your other hand now snakes up between my legs, and I know I've only gotten wetter since you fingered me, teasing me on my bed. But you stop cold and look at me.

"Tell me". You say.

"Tell you what?" I ask.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you. Or I'll leave."

You've got me there, I can't wiggle out of it. You know me so well. My face on fire, I say quietly "I want you to fuck me."

"Ask me for it. Be the proper polite little girl I know you to be."

"Please. Please fuck me."

Your expression contorts into that smug look that I always told you made me want to smack it off. You've got me and you know it.

Kicking the door aside, you toss me unceremoniously on the bed. Sheets slip disrupted by your move. I hold on to my breath, your silhouette eclipsing the dining room's light and you descend, ripping the remains of your clothes shedding them to the floor as you come.

One hand thrusts each knee spread eagle aside, one hand grabs both my wrists above my head, pinned to the bed, and you stop short.

You make a noise deep in your throat, and lean forward to whisper in my ear, "You're mine." Head raised back, I can see your eyes tell me not to move. You quickly lick me, to make entrance easy, but it doesn't take much to get to the moisture. You place your head at my entrance, and thrust, again and again until you're in. Pausing for a moment so fingertips can run delicately over check, chin, arms and waist, you suddenly grab me roughly, drawing back and pounding back in. A furious rhythm, animalistic, bare. I feel my nails raking down your back, I can only imagine the face I making. My God, so fast, so intense...

Could I trust you to show you, I want you to make me say I'm a slut, I'm a whore. I'm yours, only yours while you fuck me to completion.

My breath ragged, gasping my heart pounding, face flushed, legs trembling, pleading with you to pound me into compliance. Cum into my cunt, use me, a pulsating receptacle to please your cock, rubbing and squeezing my pussy around you desperately hoping to give you the best pleasure of your life. Until we both explode into fireworks, and we fall, spent, to the disheveled sheets.

A finger tracing the beads of sweat on my skin, as I try to get my breaths back to calm. Deep breaths. Just as I am now. I must get back to calm, and hide this all away.

The fantasy is done, locked away in thoughts as difficult to grasp as the air from my breath swirling out into the night. It's not something I can hold. It's not something I can have. Just like you.

And I know, I can't ever tell you.