Paul's Little Game

I had dressed very carefully for my outing to the bar. Usually we would go together, but today, he had called, and told me that he would meet me there. His instructions had been very clear. I was nervous as I stepped out of the car. I knew that I looked stunning in a black, circular skirt that came to about mid thigh, and a white silk halter top that left my back mostly bare. I had dressed to look sophisticated, but extremely sexy. I knew that Paul would approve.

As I stepped out of the car, a gust of wind lifted the back of my skirt, and I heard a whistle. I looked over my shoulder, and locked eyes with a young man across the lot. He smiled at me, and I smiled back, then put my hand back to smooth the skirt down, and walked into the bar.

The moment I walked in the door, I knew why the parking lot seemed overly crowded. There was a band on the stage that usually sat empty, and apparently they had drawn in a lot of fans. The whole place was full.

I made my way to the bar, and ordered my drink, and sat on the only bar stool that was still available. There was no hope of finding a place in a booth, which was usually my chosen seating. I looked around, and noted the regulars, talking louder than usual to be heard over the music, and a lot of new people, some talking, others focused on the music. And then I saw the photographer.

He was tall, and handsome, with dark gray eyes that laughed as much as his lips did, and dark hair. He seemed flirtatious, as he worked his way around the tables, and took pictures of various groups. He caught me staring once, and I smiled at him, and then looked away. I covertly watched him, and managed to shift my shoulders some, each time he looked my way, presenting my best "assets" discreetly. I wondered if he appreciated the subtle flashes.

I saw him head up toward the stage, as the band took a break. He looked back toward me, and smiled. I loved his smile. It lit his whole face. He spent several moments at the stage, and then he turned, and started around the room again. I sensed that he was coming toward me, and I felt my palms begin to sweat, and my face begin to redden. He paused, several times, as he wandered among the tables, and took photographs, but his eyes kept coming back to mine, and his smile brightened the room.

I had turned back to the bar, temporarily, when I felt him standing behind me. It is not a feeling that I could explain, simply an awareness of his presence. I turned, and he was there, right behind me, his whole face smiling at me.

"Hi," he said. And his voice was charming, "I'm Todd. I'm the band photographer. Would you care if I took your picture?" I felt my face reddening again, but I turned, put down my drink, and posed for him, smiling at him.

"I'm Jenn," I said, once the picture was done, and put out my hand to shake his. He held it a little longer than necessary, stroking it with his thumb. "So, how did you get to be a band photographer?"

"Well, I know them. They asked me to take some pictures for them, so . . ."

We were practically having to shout into each other's ears to be heard, and I felt myself tipping forward, off the bar stool. I put out a hand, and steadied myself on his chest. The move was completely accidental, but looking at his eyes, I wondered if he suspected otherwise. His hand went to my waist, steadying me. His eyes met mine, and suddenly became very solemn. Very intense. I felt myself beginning to melt.

The conversation continued, shouted, until finally I grimaced and shook my head. "I can't hear," I shouted.

"Come on," he said. He held out his hand, and I took it. It seemed the most natural, and right thing to do.

He led me out of the bar, and around the corner, into the car park. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. I blushed. I still felt my ears ringing, and I was slightly dizzy. It could have been the effect of the alcohol, or it could have simply been the noise, and then its sudden absence. We talked, and I found myself touching his arm, or his hand, and smiling up into his face.

I don't know how it happened, precisely, but I found myself in his arms. Not a hug, really, but an embrace, just the same. A gentle, tender embrace. I looked upward, and we kissed. Gently. Once, twice, three times . . .. and lingering on the third, our lips pressed together. Then I felt his lips open, deepening the kiss incrementally, but not presenting his tongue.

I felt my heart rate speeding out of control, and I know my eyes were wide when we parted for a moment, and then we were kissing again. This time my tongue slipped out to flick against his upper lip, and then retreated, as if shy. I felt his give me the same touch an instant later.

Someone whistled, and hooted, and it startled me. I jumped, my face flaming, and he laughed. "Where can we go?" he asked.

"The car," I said. I took his hand, this time leading the way. He got in the passenger seat, and I got in the drivers side. I turned to look at him, and he put a hand on my face, guiding my lips to his, again. The gentle, tender kissing started again. I felt his hand slide down my neck, across my shoulder, and then down, to stroke the outside of my breast, where it was left bare by the blouse. I felt my breath suck in, and I was lost, entirely.

I moved, arching, trying to get closer, needing his hand to move, to touch me more deeply. I felt a soft moan in my chest, and my face flushed, yet again. What would he think of me, so wanton, and forward! Whatever it was, it worked! His hand moved, rubbing my nipple through the silk. I slid my hand down his chest, across his belly, pausing at his belt. I felt a bit of fright at taking this next step, but he, somehow knowing, cupped my face, pulled his lips from mine, and looked into my eyes. "Go ahead," he said. "Touch me."

I put my hand over him, through his pants. And staring into his eyes, I began to rub. He groaned, and his hips arched upward, pushing against my hand. In that moment, I felt awesome power. The power to give this man excruciating pleasure.

The next few moments were a blur. I found myself tugging my little thong down my legs, and tossing it onto the dashboard. He looked at it, and grinned broadly. "I was wondering what you had under there."

"You could have asked," I said, feeling very cheeky.

He laughed, "What would you have done, flashed me?"

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. It just came out. "Maybe," I said, smiling at him. It was an obvious flirtation, but he grinned, and I knew he was enjoying it.

He reached for me, and undid the ties at the top of my blouse. He was careful not to let the whole top fall off, but he slid the top part aside, so that he could look at my breasts. I heard a rumble as my nipples came into view. "MMMM," he said. "Very lovely." He leaned forward and took first one, and then the other into his mouth. He was very gentle, but firm enough to expand the effect he was having on me. I felt the ripple gliding from my nipple, downward, settling between my thighs.

My hand tugged at his pants, seeking permission again. He unzipped, and unbuttoned, and reached for my hand, tucking it inside of his pants. I curled my fingers around him, stroking gently, feeling his naked skin. It was a huge rush, feeling him jerking beneath my hand. I tugged, and he freed himself. I leaned forward, and gently touched the tip of him with my tongue, tasting, taking in those first few droplets of precum. I slid my tongue around the ridge, and then opened my mouth, and took his tip inside.

His hand slid up, and between my thighs, his fingers nudged gently, encouraging me to part for him. I blushed, mightily, but I parted them. He lifted my skirt ever so slightly, enough to peek. He pulled me upward, from his cock, though I was a little disappointed. But then his mouth was on mine again, and his fingers were gently stroking my tenderest of flesh.

I don't remember if I got out and walked around, or if I simply came over the console. I was quite suddenly aware that I was sitting astride him, rubbing against him, dampening him with my own wetness. We were kissing, and his hands were on my breasts.

He sucked in a deep breath, then, and I felt his tip nudging at my entrance. I looked into his eyes. I wasn't sure. I wondered if he was. But slowly, very carefully, I slid down, over him, taking him inside, a fraction at a time, until he was deep, and I was moving slowly, up and down, my hips rocking, stroking him. He was still kissing me; his hands were on my hips now, guiding me, moving me. His hands occasionally slid upward to cup and stroke my breasts and nipples until I was gasping.

I felt my inner muscles beginning to clench, and my legs tightening. I knew what was coming, and I hoped he was close too. I kept moving, hoping to bring him with me. But the moment the orgasm tightened around me, I was lost, and I simply moved for my own pleasure.

As it eased, I heard a sound, and looked at him. His eyes were closed, and his face was tight. He was making light sounds, as he came, and I watched his face. I wondered if he was normally noisier, or if this was the extent of the sounds that he made. Either way, I was absurdly pleased that I had brought him pleasure.

I lay against his chest for several moments, and his fingers drew little designs down my spine. My lips gently stroking his neck.

"Wow," I said, sitting upright, after the trembles had passed.

"Yeah," he said, smiling a little weakly.. "Wow."

We spent a few moments straitening our clothes, and ourselves. He watched while I replaced my lipstick, and smoothed my hair. I tucked my panties into the glove compartment. We talked softly, all the while, exchanging numbers, and promising to see each other again.

We got out of the car, and walked into the bar, holding hands. I felt like everyone in the place knew exactly what we'd just done. I knew my face was flushed, and my eyes were sparkling. I knew that my lips were swollen from our kisses, and I wondered if they could tell that my clothes were far more wrinkled now than simply sitting and talking would have caused.

The band was packing up, and they shouted for Todd right away, when they saw him. His face flushed as he hugged me, kissed my cheek, and walked toward them. Watching him go, I felt a sort of sadness. I had enjoyed this so much. I hoped that he would call.

I walked back to the bar, and looked around to see that most of the "Extras" had gone, and the regulars were in their "usual" places. I ordered another drink, and went to sit in a booth. A few minutes later, Paul slid in next to me. He kissed my lips, my cheek, and my neck, and whispered against my ear, "You smell like sex. You owe me the story."