Seduced to Sex

Preamble

These stories are based in Australia and written in the idiom the characters would use.

Generally, the intended meaning will be clear from the context if you don't cling too tightly to your usual usage.

Crutch/ Crotch has been a subject of much comment. Australians more commonly use 'crutch' and that meaning of the word is supported by the Macquarie Dictionary.

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Story

Looking back I've always wondered when one becomes truly sexualised. I don't mean puberty, or at least that's not how it worked for me. I mean wanting sex, really desiring sex; the feeling of a guy's finger on your clit and cock in your womanhood. That came much later for me. I suspect I was at least 18; maybe a smidgen later.

I'd gone out with Aron since I was 14. One of those all consuming - although never consummated - teenage passions.

Over the years I suppose you'd say our relationship had been comfortable. I was a good enough looker to increase his status at school and he was enough of a stud to seem like a keeper to my young self. At school, we were regarded at an 'it' couple. But as I got older I recognised that he didn't really rock my boat; a bit too jock in his attitude and a bit dim to boot. I didn't really love him as I felt I should nor did he set my loins on fire.

The issues that had started to develop with our relationship had been hidden for a while as I focused down on the final HSC year at school. I was nothing if not an intensive swat and determined to get into the best law school. Aron just had to wear me not having much time for him for the critical 18 months.

As the pressure valve of study was released by my finishing school, what I discovered within me was that newly sexualised self. A sense of desire and need far exceeding anything I'd felt before. And yet with that came a realisation that Aron wasn't the right man.

From the outset of our relationship it had been physical, in that innocent puppy love sort of way. We'd pashed like teenage lovers do. But he'd never got to touch me, at least not where it counts; if you know what I mean. Now I was older and free of study burdens, he wanted a pay-off for his waiting. He wanted a lot, lot more. We'd argued about it. But as I planned my exit from the relationship, it hadn't felt right; in fact it felt downright risky. The best he'd got was a feel of my nipples through my swimwear in the six months before we'd broken up.

So there I was in the strange situation of wanting sex and yet not wanting it with the man I was with; not least of all because I knew that would just make the end of our relationship all the harder. But it went beyond that; physically I just didn't fancy surrendering my body to him whatever needs I felt.

The breakup was difficult. We'd been together a long time and it was half way through my first year at Uni before I'd got the courage and determination to pull the trigger and announce it was off.

He hadn't taken it well. For six months he was still trying to get me back; constantly calling and visiting me to talk me into rekindling our relationship. I needed time out from stressful relationships. I wanted a relationship without commitments; to play the field; to find physical intimacy and sexual satisfaction in the context of a respectful, caring human relationship without all the burdens that went with it. I wanted much more than a lustful hook up but something less than another committed relationship. Maybe in retrospect, I wanted more than I was entitled to.

Uni had provided a seeming smorgasbord of males and once I was morally free of Aron I became more receptive to the invitations that came my way. The first one I'd accepted was from Tim. I'd shared a class with him and he was both attractive and nice. As I got to know him better I was starting to become quite physically drawn to him; even started to fantasise about us both together.

The first couple of dates were just conventional, get to know you, nights out together. Given I saw a fair bit of him at Uni, I'd spaced them out to make sure things didn't seem to be rushing to any commitment.

The fourth proper date was a toga dress ball at Uni. We were both wearing mini length shift style togas; mine with a barely there off the shoulder top worn braless. Late in the night as the band played slow tunes we were dancing arm in arm. We'd both had a few drinks; enough to reduce inhibitions without being too drunk. As we'd danced to the music I'd pushed my crutch into his and as I'd swayed against him I'd felt his partial boner slip under the hem of both our outfits so that it was rubbing on the crutch of my panties.

It was still all quite innocent. It was his undies rubbing on mine. But it was more than I'd ever allowed to Aron. And, I found it quite arousing. Far from pulling away from it, I was using it to pleasure myself. And his body must have noticed that, because the boner was getting bigger and harder.

Then he put his mouth to my ear and whispered "Am I allowed to fall in love with you?"

I don't know why he put it as a question, but the answer was definitely no. It put a dampener on the night as I had to pull away from him and explain that I'd just broken up from a relationship and I wanted to play the field rather than get involved with someone. What I didn't have the courage to tell him was that didn't mean that I wasn't interested in sex. He took it as a message to back off; our dancing wasn't as close and the goodnight kiss and cuddle in the car at the end of the night was no more than the usual formality.

As spring moved towards summer he'd redefined and accepted his role as friend, occasional date and pash provider. The barrier that had jumped up at his mention of love had subsided. But that left me unsatisfied. To put it crudely, I wanted him for his companionship and his body and I was only getting about one and a third of that. Of course, I should have just made clearer what I wanted, but I had my own inhibitions about that. And while the option was there to treat Tim as a false start and start all over with someone new, the fact was he was still the one I fancied most.

On the date which really started all this, all I had on was a thin, deep vee'd, halter necked mini sheath dress worn braless.

I'd noticed over dinner that he'd found the generous cleavage display somewhat distracting. I'd known the dress would have that effect when I'd chosen to wear it. While he'd kept his hands and eyes more under control than I could reasonably have expected, I could read in his gaze a raw physical lust for me that I'd never seen before. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and pupils dilated and his conversation distracted as he struggled with controlling what I knew was his arousal.

Whatever he thought the rules were, I could sense that I'd managed to ignite a physical desire for me that was very likely manifesting itself in his pants. Aching to look under the table to see if my hunch was correct, my own body was responding to my perception of his arousal. He may not have been able to see the moistening of my crutch, but there was no doubt he could see the tightening of my nipples as they pushed out the thin material of my top.

In a different sort of relationship we might have been deeply into flirtatious conversation by now. Tim had a great sense of humour and a good line of banter and in most areas we could keep each other amused for ages. But the night of the toga party had crushed his sense of risk taking by Tim where our relationship was concerned; verbally or otherwise. And I was too shy or reserved to be the one to instigate it.

Even that night as he'd lent in to kiss me goodnight in the car, he hadn't gone the grope. It must have been so tempting for him. Just a little higher and his fingers would have found an easy path under the soft material of the top's triangle to a nipple already making its presence visibly obvious.

As his right hand moved across to my left flank as we started pashing in the front seat of his car, it - and the forearm that followed it - slid across the underside of my left breast. It was nothing more than that. No contact with a nipple; not even with bare flesh.

Instead his forearm had followed its usual path along the base of my breast as his hand circled my flank. But the bare skin of his forearm sensuously slipping past the sensitive, sparsely clothed flesh of my breast had electrified me. I knew his action had curled over the inner edge of my top just enough to risk a nipple exposure. I oh so wished he'd gone the grope and stimulated my nipple.

Most other times we'd finished the night with a kiss and a cuddle in his car before he walked me to the door of my parent's house. Nearly every time that same movement across my chest had held me closer to him as we kissed.

This time was different. This time it set off a fire in my body and brought on an instant lady boner so powerful that, as we sat there tongue wrestling, I was consumed by lust and a physical desire for him. I wanted him to go the grope on me. I wanted him to break out of the considerate, respectful mould that had typified our relationship - especially after that talk - and treat my breast, indeed my body, as the sexual object that, for the first time in my life, it really yearned to be.

In a way, I'd originally chosen Tim to be the one I unleashed my sexual needs on because of a sense of sexual attraction to him. His raising of love had caused me to pull back for a while. It was as if, now that he'd passed his probation period and accepted his reduced emotional status, my body was telling me it was time to get on with it.

I arched my body towards him, lifting my hips off the seat as I almost consumed his face with the passion of my kissing. As I turned towards him I rubbed my breast against the forearm in a way that rolled the triangle of the top off my nipple. Tim couldn't see it because we were kissing, but there was a naked nipple resting on the top of his arm; hard, enlarged and sensitive. And it was being moved by its owner back and forwards just enough drive her crazy with desire.

As I squirmed under the force of sexual pleasure and desire, I knew my mini skirt had ridden up high enough to expose the top of my panties. Tim had me bare breasted and nearly as bare pussied. Very likely leaving a puddle in the seat of his car, I was wishing to hell he'd stick his hand down somewhere. But he was completely oblivious to it.

Treating me as a mere sexual object wasn't like Tim; especially when he was being so careful to obey the friendship rule. I knew I'd have to plan his seduction.

My first serious attempt was the following Saturday, when following a long, hot and sticky shift at work, I'd invited him over for a late afternoon swim in our family's pool on a day I knew my parents would be out for a good few hours.

I'd organised it with Tim the night before and then spent a good few hours in bed fantasising about how I'd make it happen within the boundaries of what I was willing to instigate. Realistically I figured it would be easy enough to get him pashing me in the pool, but the real action would probably happen on the lounge in the pool house afterwards. That after we got out, I could instigate us drying each other off in increasingly intimate and arousing ways until; well, you know.

I planted a box of condoms there in preparation - while the pill might take care of the baby issue, there was also the question of VD's - figuring I'd work out later how to explain their convenient presence when the time came.

But other pool based fantasies had also kept me awake that night. The most powerful had me sitting sprawled naked and legs apart on the top step of the pool when Tim emerges from the water between my legs, water cascading off him in impossible quantities like the god Poseidon in an ancient Greek movie. The water pouring off his stomach is being diverted from a vertical drop by something that it hits in its fall that causes it to spray out almost horizontally but for the moment is hidden under the torrent. As the water clears, that something is revealed to be a giant rampant erection which Tim then proceeds to drop between my legs to penetrate me with before making passionate love to me.

I nearly climaxed just thinking about that.

When he arrived, the tiny bikini I greeted him at the door in already had him bulging out his pants in a partial erection before I finished giving him a hello peck on the cheek.

He followed me through the house and out into the back yard towards the pool house behind the pool. The view I gave him all the way of a wiggling bottom, bum crack emerging from my low slung bikini, did nothing to settle the erection.

As I officiously pointed out the table I was suggesting he put his gear on, I put my left hand in a friendly manner cupping his right shoulder blade while I pointed across his chest with my right arm; brushing my breast across his biceps and my right arm across the hairs of his chest as I did so and then innocently dropped my arm until it accidentally (or not) collided with the bulge of his erection.

The movement was enough to complete the process of both our arousals. As much as he tried to hide it, his quickly grew to be vertical; bisecting the centre seam of his pants, the thin material of which was moulded around it. Mine might only have manifested itself externally in some very obvious nips but the reality was it was no less than his. I'd invested a lot of fantasy into this hook-up and my body was already getting ahead of proceedings.

Moving back to the edge of the pool, Tim dunked a toe in, feeling the temperature. When he winced as he pulled it out I wasn't going to risk him declaring it too cold. Cruelly I gave him enough of a shove to put him off balance; making him straighten out and dive forwards into the water. Then I followed with a powerful horizontal dive; steering myself deep to traverse the bottom of the pool as I trailed in Tim's path.

The water pulled forcefully at my tightly tied bikini as I entered it; threatening to undress me. I felt the top triangles tugged downwards, the raised nipples dragging sensuously through the cool water barely still sheathed in their Lycra covering. At the same time a flow of it permeated the bikini bridge of my pants and down through my crutch, pleasuring me as my long blonde tresses brushed against my back. I was enjoying the caress of the water, of its play with my body as I glided inches from the tiles lining the floor of the pool.

Opening my eyes I saw Tim gliding ahead but not quite as deep as me; his erection pulled downwards by the friction of the water as his cute little bum was highlighted by the cut of his pants.

When the momentum of his dive wore off, Tim rose back to the surface, standing up where he stopped. Still stimulated by the water's embrace and caress of my body, I frog stroked past Tim's legs towards the far end of the pool. My heart was racing at the thought of the erotic play ahead. I'd already planned to take a breath and bounce off the far wall to swim back underwater towards Tim, letting me emerge upright into his arms.

What confronted me as my head emerged at the end of the pool made my blood run cold. Aron was standing there wanting to have yet another deep and meaningful. He'd seen my and a strange car out the front. The trouble was that Aron had a much better idea of my intentions than Tim did. Aron and I had spent many a hot day pashing in the pool. It was where he eventually got to feel up my nipples.

"The pashing pool" my friends called it; with good reason. The reason was simple. I liked my pashing to involve minimal clothes; on him or me. With Aron, letting him undress me from ordinary clothes, or undressing him, was fraught with issues of controlling the process and confusing messages when I was trying to manage his sexual expectations. Plus that left us in underwear; something I wasn't happy with.

The pool however involved swimwear; we both came pre stripped. Sure we could, and did, also do it on the sand at the beach. But that tended to leave the erection, which inevitably started pushing out his pants, obvious to all the world. In the pool, as long as he swam a few laps before exiting it, even mum and dad sitting there at the time didn't know about it (or so I naïvely thought at the time).

It's why the default starting point with Tim was in the pool on a day my parents were out.

The thing was the bikini I was wearing - bought for this occasion - was made of something less than a third of the material of anything Aron had seen me in before. It was ultra low riding - as in my bum crack and a bikini bridge across my mound were permanently exposed however high you hitched it - and had truly tiny triangles. Just to wear it I'd had to do a major job on my bikini line and then trim short whatever remained so it didn't bulge out the taught material.

It was intended to tease Tim to action. As he stood on the side of the pool, looking down at me in the water as we talked, I could see Aron completely focused on the giant nips pushing out the thin material in the cold water. Alarmingly, I could also see he'd grown a partial erection in his pants.

The trouble was Aron could clearly recognise that another guy was being set up to cut grass he had always regarded as his to cut - even if the other guy was oblivious to that fact; and as a result of my trimming, there wasn't much grass left to cut anyway. At the very least he was determined to drag out matters enough to frustrate my plan for the day.

Tim had at least wisely decided it was better to stand back and let me deal with the issue; awkwardly occupying himself with swimming laps and then standing off in the far corner. Aron was more needy and sulky than aggressive; but if Tim had intervened he could quickly have arced up into a rutting stag.

Eventually, to bring the thing to an end, I had to get out of the pool and walk Aron back to the gate as I talked him down; feeling vulnerable in my near naked state. This sight was never intended for him. Now I was out of the pool, he had the full view. There was a deep camel toe in my pants, nips pushing out my top and plunging views down my bum crack and the bridge across my mons that exposed parts of my body he'd never even glimpsed before.

As we walked, he kept stopping as he asked a question; bringing a pause in the walk and a face to face stance that let him check me out once again and feed more testosterone into the full boner pushing out his pants. I knew it was killing him. He always had thought my body, my virginity, would be eventually his for the taking. But it wasn't. It was mine for the giving, and he could clearly see that I was lining up to give it to someone else.

All I could really do was gently repeat the mantra I had gone over with him so often. "It was over. You have to let go."

By the time I got back to Tim the mood was gone. The day was rapidly cooling, I was feeling stressed, Tim was unlikely to feel comfortable making a move on me after seeing my previous boyfriend all but crying in front of me and my parents could be home any minute. We dried and I had to content myself with teasing him with that same view of my body that Aron had just torn himself apart with as we had a cup of tea in the dying sun of the pool house. Then I gave him a full frontal hug as I kissed him goodbye; subtly resisting his attempt to move what he thought was his own embarrassing boner away from contact with my stomach; foolishly thinking that might hide its existence.

The next attempt at seduction was a week later when I invited Tim over for a home cooked dinner on a night my parents would be out late.

If I don't go into the details of the delightful dinner conversation, that doesn't mean it didn't happen. It's a large part of why I was so drawn to Tim. But I know that's not what you're here to read about.