It truly starts with me running from you. Well maybe it isn't always you, and it doesn't really start with me running, but for all intensive purposes here it's you and I'm running...terrified. I just arrived home, locked my car, and started toward the safety of my apt. I take three steps before I am consumed by an overwhelming presence behind me. Before I can turn to investigate, your large hand closes over my mouth forcing my startled gasp back down my throat, while your arm reaches around my waist pulling me back against your chest.
I try to wriggle free and can feel the heat of you seep through my clothes as you whisper darkly against my ear, " Struggle, and it will only make it worse." Fear curls around my spine as I let my body relax against your warmth. I can feel hardness pressing into my lower back, and silently curse my body for its reaction to you. A tingling sensation creeps its way between my trembling thighs, and I know I'm getting wet. I breath heavily against your hand and fight the urge to lick your fingers. You pull me to your car, releasing your hold on me for a brief moment so you can unlock the door. I could run then, but I don't. I silently sit down and wait.
You drive not terribly far as you tease me, trailing your fingers up my thighs. I unconsciously open my legs wider, hiking my skirt up, and giving you more access to my now aching cunt. I shouldn't want you to touch me, but in that moment I need it. Your fingers travel further and further and my knees begin to tremble. You laugh as you reach my panties and feel them soaked through. I arch my hips upward and release a low groan waiting for you to touch me. "Patience," you say and pull your hands back to the steering wheel. I slump back in the seat unsatisfied.