The sexual build up over the course of weeks and months was intense.
She, the brash know it all, 13 going on 30, quickly married and playing house (19F) petite hottie. Me (20M), the tall, blond, more thoughtful, and sensitive counterpart to the gregarious fuck boi she would eventually tire with and divorce.
We read to each other. I read poetry to her. We shared intimate confessions of our ideals, hopes and dreams. I was always conscious of her taken status, but she was so enthralling, so sexy, and so adroit at pinning her husband as the heel in her narrative that I didn’t care, and worse; I was more like the ball of string than the predator cat, though I was full of enough confidence at that age to believe the roles reversed.
Not by accident, I kept ending up at the same parties as her, on nights her husband worked. We were all in the same circle of friends, so she would always be with a gaggle of girl friends, and it seemed innocuous enough. But time and again, we’d end up isolated, chatting our little secret banter in some quiet corner. In the back of my mind, I was always extra confident because I knew this could never happen. Then circumstances allowed for a change.
Another couple friend of ours, of whom I was rooming with the male of the couple and who I’d rode with to the party, offered to drive her back to our place to crash, after her girl friends had to quickly go to deal some drama.
So, we all get back to my place, and the couple quickly retreats to his room.
We sit and chat a bit, and we’re suddenly without room between us on the couch. Her blouse came unbuttoned in front of her bra. I tried to point it out in a very platonic way “Hey, look down you’ve got a button.”
“Where?’ She asked playfully.
I blushed. “Maybe we should leave it open.” I put my hand in the hole in her blouse, and slowly caressed her over her bra as I drew her face close to me. I was just about to kiss her, and started to pull away. Then she kissed me.
I was helpless. We made out like crazy. She was an excellent kisser, kept her hands busy, exploring my body while we went at it, me similarly minded. I finished exploring her beautiful c cups, grabbed her ass, and drug the back of my fingers along her neck, and down across her collar bone. I watched her skin get goose bumps. She let out the faintest moan. Our eyes met.
My conscience sent its final emergency flare soaring.
I disconnected from her, and managed an awkward smile, and we froze, reading each other. Was this a pause to ditch clothes (forget for a moment two people were down the hallway from the living room), or was this me taking the out that I always knew was there? She made it clear that she’d already thought as much as me about it, and there was no other way this was ending, as she offered the most erotic seven words I may have ever heard: “You don’t have the balls to fuck me,” With a challenging, confident, defiant, radiant smile.
Now, I’d had sex for a few different reasons at that point in my life. But I have never, ever, before or since, been forced to fuck for my pride. I’m thrilled to report that not only was I up for the challenge, it was the most erotic, connected, passionate sex I’ve ever had.
We reconnected, both naked in a cold room, completely engrossed in one another, and completely oblivious to the two other people down the hall. One half of us hot with the contact between us, the other cold. The effect was intoxicating when I turned her around, and the cold side of her body buried into the heat of the front of me. Being ten inches taller than her, and I started to touch each little part of her body, as I kissed her from behind, her head turned as moved my lips from her ear to her neck, her lips, and back again. I would touch a different part of her. Some random and not necessarily erotic, then a nipple, then something innocent, then her upper thigh. Eventually, my hands found their way onto and around her pussy, but very slow, and with an emphasis on teasing the touch. She was getting so into it, as I turned her back around, and laid her on the couch, and moved my head down her body, kissing my way south to the sexy well manicured pubic hair. I grabbed it, and pulled it gently towards her belly button as I slowly licked her from the bottom to the top of her labia. I slowly escalated to more and more clit play until she came, fiercely grabbing my hair and pulling my face into her as she ground on my tongue, lips, and nose. I was in heaven as she froze and calmed down.
Without a word I came back to her, and entered her as we started to kiss again. The rhythm was slow and sensual, and built so gradually. She scratched my back lightly as I went faster. The dirty talk as we kissed, our noses never more than a few inches apart as we fucked, and fucked, and fucked. She came again, and I started pounding her as I came just shortly after.
We lay in a tangled heap of limbs, and I didn’t think about the consequences of the night until morning. And after we had a second round that tracked roughly like the first.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/dfv7yf/fm_she_dared_me_to_do_it