Close Enough 1

I really had not planned on things going that far. It was supposed to be a lot of flirting and a little touching, some groping, maybe even some lips. Not those lips, the ones up here.

I have mixed feelings about it, because while it definitely got out of hand, it felt good. He felt good. I made him feel good. He wanted me to make him feel good and I obliged.

Right now I am in a stall and it is loud outside. The stall is clean enough. The whole bathroom is fairly clean and well stocked. But I am not at all focused on that right now.

There is a pile of wet wipes on the floor. I think I have already gone through more than half of the travel pack.

My legs are spread as wide as I can get them and I am scrubbing furiously. Just moments ago, I used all the remaining soap in the dispenser by the sink to wash a huge load of sticky cum off my hand.

My panties came off a while ago, shoved as deep in the bottom of my purse as I could get them. They are definitely not going back on.

I am not putting them back on because there is cum all over them. The wrong cum. Not my boyfriend's cum.

His

cum. The guy.

He is not someone I know. He was cute. He turned me on. I liked him enough. I liked him enough I guess, that I

let

things get out of hand.

It could have been worse. He came

on

my panties. It was a surprise, sort of. I knew he would get there. I just did not know that I was turning him on so much that it would happen

then.

Not that quickly.

But this is a mess. I am not even trying to clean the panties. There is going to be cum all over the inside of my purse. I can clean that out later. Right now I have to get it off myself.

I think that none of it got in me. God, I hope not. I am sure if I wipe enough, he will not notice.

We are definitely going to be naked later. I am going to fuck the ever living shit out of my boyfriend. I have not been turned on this much in a long time. Maybe never.

But there is no way he can know what happened. I have to tell him if he asks but I want it not to be evident. If he wants to go down on me while he is asking me what happened, there is no way I can stop him.

I never want to stop him. I will not stop him. I cannot stop him. My body is his. He let me play a little today but I am still his. I am just his.

He is outside, in the bar. We came here together tonight and we are leaving together.

I was feeling a little frisky and I was getting flirted with. He was flirty and I asked my man each time if I could go a little further.

Every time I asked, I got more permission than I wanted.

First, I just asked for permission to get a little closer. He kept moving closer to me as we were flirting. I am pretty sure that I gave him a clear signal to back off a little.

In the beginning I wanted him to back off. But he bought all three of us a shot. He was smooth and suave. He was subtle and clear.

I had felt awkward but he made it feel normal, natural. So I asked if it was okay and if I could let him cozy up to me. I was told to go ahead and that if he kissed me, to let him as long as it was not too obvious.

I denied that I was going to let that happen. There was no way I wanted that. He was a stranger and I certainly did not like him enough. I did not even know him enough to kiss him. But he was cozying up to me. It felt good. He made me feel warm inside.

He made me feel wanted and needed. I was excited and I felt alive. It felt good. His face just kept getting closer to mine as he touched me lightly.

It was not inappropriate, just a little firmer than tickling me. It sent electricity through my body. When I turned towards him in the middle of a sentence, his lips were right there.

I should have stopped him. I did not stop him. I did not want to stop him.

He wanted. He wanted me. I wanted to give him what he wanted.

It was innocent. It lingered. He made sure that when it ended it was not awkward.

There was a pause afterwards. He was affected by it, something got to him. Then he kept talking. He started flirting a little harder after that. I feel like I got in his head a little bit.

The next smooch ended when I told him I had to go pee. On the way back, I found my boyfriend. He was doing what he does, making friends with the locals. He was in the middle of a story and half the bar seemed entranced.

He interrupted the story, he interrupted all of them, to pay attention to me when I asked. Everyone in the bar wondered who I was, who could stop him mid-sentence and capture his attention. They wanted to know what I was saying.

I whispered in his ear because it was not for anyone else to hear or to know. I asked him if it was okay to let him feel me up a little, over my clothes. I was told that I should let him touch my skin too, where he wants to touch me.

That was too much. Maybe if he wanted to grope a little under my bra that would be okay. I even made a quick stop in a dark corner and loosened my bra as much as it would go.

He did not waste much time. Just a few minutes after I got back to my bar stool, as he was smooching me a little more. His hands found their way up the bottom of my shirt.

The kiss still felt electric. Having his hands on my waist, my stomach and my back turned it up a little. Not a ten yet, but we were on the way there.

He was good at this. There was no groping. That would have been too much too. I would have stopped him and he seemed to know that.

Damn him for knowing just how to do this right. One wrong move and I would have shut the whole thing down. It was already more than I would ever let myself go.

But it was all permitted. Explicitly permitted. My boyfriend had told me that this was acceptable.

It felt good, not wrong. Somehow it felt wrong at the same time. Shit, why did he have to be so good at this?

He made it seem like the only thing in the world that he wanted to do was run his fingertips discretely over my stomach under my shirt. He kept touching me as we were flirting.

We were still flirting. We had already kissed and he had felt me up, just a little, and we were still flirting.

But he was flirting hard now and I sensed a little jump in his voice when his fingertips reached down the small of my back.

His hands went under my skirt hemline, down the top, tickling the waistband of my panties. I gasped a little, then sighed a little. My mind raced. Butterflies ran through my stomach.

He had touched my panties. That was very personal and very close. They were the only thing covering up my pussy, which was getting really wet by now.

I was distracted by the warmth emanating from it when his hands brushed the side of my breasts. They traced all the way across my body, just under the wire in my bra. I had loosened it so much that I felt his fingertips brushing the bottom of my boob.

I have no idea how I got so distracted. Here I was thinking about the wetness of my pussy and he was touching my breasts.

God, he was good. He had distracted me just enough to get me to let him paw my breasts.

He was subtle. I felt like no one even saw that his hands were up my shirt. I felt like he had awoken me, back from my distracted world.

This certainly was

not

what I had expected or even what I was comfortable with. But he was gentle and comforting. He kept me talking. I was blushing and giggling.

He was firm with his touch and when I turned a little or pushed gently on his wrist to stop him, he persisted carefully. I resisted everything at first but he worked his way back each time.

If he distracted me and made a bold move, he would inch his way back after I protested. By the time he got back there, I would not stop him.

He wanted me. He wanted to touch me. He wanted to feel my body.

It felt good and I wanted him to have me. Plus, it was on my terms. It really was not but he made me feel like it was.

I had asked and I was allowed. This was now

way

beyond what I would have been willing to do when it started. He pushed slowly and methodically.

It was not even a shock the first time his fingertips tweaked my nipple. I brushed away his hand as I moaned lightly into his mouth. It was too much.

He knew I was going to moan and his mouth was over mine when it happened. Nobody heard and nobody saw.

It was loud and not very bright in the bar. Within minutes, his hands were all over my tits. He was full-on groping me. I stopped him the first time a hand cupped my breast but my sighs and mews gave away my desire.

He manipulated my body expertly. Not too fast, not too slow. He pushed me and I stopped him, but then he made me let down my guard. He went back for a second attempt. He was persistent, like he wanted me at any cost.

He pinched my nipples just hard enough, sending a shock through my body each time. I felt almost numb between tweaks, eagerly anticipating more.

At no point did he ease up. One moment of pause and I may have come to my senses. I felt dirty and wanton. I felt like a slut.

It turned me on to feel that way. It turned me on to feel like this was what I could do for him. He wanted this and I was going to let him take what he wanted of me. Giving, and giving in, felt almost as good as the physical pleasure.

It was a shock when I felt his fingertips trace up the bottom of my thigh. Once again, that was way too far. That hand was not on my chest anymore. I had not even noticed that it moved.

I was distracted again by some words, probably his lips on my earlobe or neck, maybe by a kiss. I was distracted by the purely electrified state my whole body was in, and the jolt I felt each time one of my nipples was tweaked.

His finger slid right up the side of my panties. They were half on the fabric and half on my smooth, sensitive skin. My panties were soaked.

It was way too light a touch, I should have jumped from getting tickled. But I swooned instead.

There was no way he did not know at this point that I was dripping wet. He had completely wooed his way up my skirt. He had seduced me. I had let him.

He was standing between my legs as I sat on the bar stool. I could feel his hardon grinding further down my leg. He was clearly wound up. Again, this had gone too far. Way too far.

But now I wanted it to be this far. I wanted to make him feel good.

I wanted him to see me as that, as a hot body that could satisfy his need. It was far past any limits I had, but it felt so good.

I took the only remaining distraction I had and excused myself to the bathroom. On the way I stopped and asked my boyfriend again if it was okay. He stopped again, to pay attention to me.

He always stopped to pay attention to me. I whispered in his ear again. I wanted no attention from all these people. I did want attention from one person though.

I was enjoying that attention and I told my boyfriend. I was told that I should make sure my hands took care of his need for release.

My mind was spinning. My boyfriend had just told me to get him off. I had to pee. I was not even going to justify that with a thought.

There was no way I was going to touch his cock, much less get him off. I was enjoying getting flirted with. I was enjoying getting felt up. That was way further than I had wanted anything to get.

On the way back from the bathroom, I noticed him beckoning me to a table in a dark corner. He, with a big, sultry smile on his face.

I guess that corner was fine, it was still in public and my boyfriend could still see me. But it was darker. There were shadows. He wanted to grope more freely.

That was all just lame justification for the heat flooding through my body. I wanted him to grope more freely. Maybe I would even let him touch my thighs a little, maybe some fingering through my panties.

I might grope his thighs a little too, give him a little more physical stimulation than just dry humping my leg. He wanted that. He wanted that from me. I was going to give it to him. Just a little. On my terms.

I would let him sit on the bar stool, and I would stand. I could control things that way. I wanted to take some control.

He had already shown me what he wanted. He had taken control of me, of our interaction. He had demonstrated that I was what he wanted. I wanted to take some control and show him that I was going to give him what he wanted.

As I got there, I was guided onto the seat in the corner. It was one swift motion with a little lift under my butt. I slid right onto the stool. I was not really what I wanted, him between my legs.

But it went so easily. He was smooth about it. I barely had a moment to realize what had happened.

Yet again, he distracted me with some flirting. When his lips found my neck, there was no complaint from me that a hand went right up my shirt. It was barely a minute since I had gotten back from the bathroom and he was already fondling my tits again.

In the darker corner, no one could see as much. I guess it was okay. It felt good. It felt better that he seemed so eager. He was really enjoying my chest. I felt warm and slightly dizzy.

It was too much and not enough at the same time. I was horny and eager to please. I was also way over my line and looking for a good way out of this.

Just a little more, I thought. Then I can stop.

In the middle of that thought, I felt the hand between my legs. Fingers, brushing all the way up the crotch of my panties.

It was slow and teasing. He started all the way at the bottom and I could even feel his fingers pressing against the edge of my asshole through the thin fabric.

The whole thing was intoxicating. It was ridiculously dirty.

It was way more than I thought I was comfortable with. But he just took, without asking, without doubt or shame.

I did not know if feeling his fingertip press against my back door made me feel more dirty and ashamed, or if the sluttiness of it turned me on. My mind was swimming.

It was swimming way too much to do anything other than sigh into his mouth as the finger traced up my slit. Not over my panties anymore. The finger was pushing my panties to the side.

The smooth, lacy edge of the middle section of my underwear slid between my lips, along with his finger. I could feel his fingertip on the impossibly slippery inside of my pussy lip, just the one side.

It was not a quick motion. It felt like it took minutes, or hours. It started at the bottom and I could feel the pressure of his finger, pushing my panties out of the way, against the edge of my hole. It teased, seduced and excited all at the same time.

It was outside, or inside, I really could not tell. I was being fingered. He may as well have slid his whole middle finger straight into me. It was almost tantalizingly better.

My panties fought his finger slightly, brushing it, making it press against my walls, my inner walls, on the one side. They pressed against everything down there and rubbed a little.

I felt a yearning to be filled. But he was not going to give me what I wanted. I was distracted by my want, my mind zipping to how good it felt. I wanted to feel more inside me. I wanted to feel full.

His finger was slipping further up my cunt. My ass cheeks were covered in my oozing juices and the stool was slippery. My hips had slid straight into his hand, pressing into him. By the time I came to, out of my haze, his finger had already found its way up my slit, pushing on my panties.

The crotch seam was grating roughly against my clit now. It was intense pressure that would have hurt in most cases. But I was so turned on that I almost came.

This was not what I wanted. I wanted at least a little control. As I was fighting for control, he was manipulating me.

He had almost made me come. It felt like it had taken an eternity. It also felt like it had happened so quickly.

The words had all but stopped at this point. Our heads were alternating between hard, crushing kisses and very heavy breathing into each others' necks.

I had to get a leg up on this. I still had no control.

My clothing was all still on but I was completely naked to him. All my clothing did nothing to hinder him in the slightest. He had found a way around all of it.

I had not taken off a single thing, yet he had already touched every most sensitive part of my bare body. He was taking advantage of my unclothed body and I was urging him on silently.

I had to turn this around.

So I grabbed his crotch. With both hands, I was able to push his hands out of the way.

I was not very subtle like he was. I wanted not to be. I wanted him to know that I was going to return the groping, return the feeling good.

I also wanted him to know that I was going to be in charge of the rest of this. I was going to take everything that he had given. With all his demonstration of desire, I would make sure he felt good.

With him between my legs, it was not easy to open his pants. One hand slid up and down the sides of his cock bulging through the fabric of his fly. The other worked on his belt at the same time.

Even sober, this would not have been the easiest thing to do. But he did not seem to mind as I fumbled. He seemed to be in no rush.

His hands found their way back to my chest and I was glad it was a dark corner. As I fumbled with his pants and rubbed his shaft through them, he played with my chest with reckless abandon. Anyone looking would have a clear view. My shirt and bra were practically around my neck.

I did finally get the belt and the button open. His fly split easily, giving wide access to the tight fabric under. There were boxer briefs or something that he was wearing.

I rubbed both hands now over the outline of his cock. One hand moved lower to cup his balls as the other squeezed his shaft through the fabric. As I pressed my palm in, I felt very slick, soft flesh.

The head of his cock was poking up well past the elastic waistband. It was drooling precum. It was drooling copiously. My palm was slick right away.

He moaned as he felt my hand on the tip of his prick. I pressed in, rubbing the heel of my hand against the slippery underside of his cock. My other hand, gently squeezing his balls, was also tugging down on the shorts a little, exposing a few more millimeters of his shaft with each grip.

I took no stock in the situation. I did not think much about it. I wanted to be

that

girl. I wanted to be that, for him.

I wanted to keep up the dirty, coy, slutty demeanor that I was putting forth. I had played it this far. I definitely was not going to stop now. I was going to turn it up.

I pushed him away ever so slightly with one hand while the other came slowly to my mouth. I licked my palm, slowly, seductively, showing him.

As I did this, I tasted the sweet and salty flavor of his precum. It was all over my hand and I licked very slowly.

His hands had been on my chest, pinned in place by my arms between his legs. As I gave him that little show, his hands slid right down my body.

I was distracted by what I was doing. I finally felt like I was a little bit in control. I could see the fire in his eyes, his craze when I licked my palm and tasted his juices.

I did not really notice one hand tugging on my thigh, causing my slippery cheeks to slide down a little further. My pussy was now over the edge of the bar stool.

I did notice his other hand roughly pushing the seam of my panty crotch out of the way. I had been partially exposed before, a lip peeking out the side. Now my drooling, oozing, slick pussy was completely uncovered and open, inches from his cock.

That escalation was again too much and slightly sobering. Just enough for me to do what I had been doing the whole time, push him out of the way.

I brushed his hands from between my legs and they moved without hesitation. Just the same, he did exactly what he had been doing the whole time.