“Stay.”

“I’d be happy to show you some nudes,” she said, rising to close the gap between them. She moves slowly, intentionally, watching his eyes widen as her fingertips trace the hem of her skirt, lifting demurely as she slides onto his lap. This is not the response he expected. His hands rest against the sides of his dark jeans, fingers aimless fluttering, eager to connect but afraid to touch. He is reminded of lustful moments under dim lights, observing the feminine forms whose love and attention he could purchase for three minutes at a time. Beautiful vixens he wasn’t allowed to feel.

He draws a quick breath as she leans her back against his chest, and he is returned to the present moment. He peers over her shoulder, watching her thumb flick through streaks of pale skin under colored lights until she finds the image she’s looking for. His chest flutters as he makes eye contact with this digital fantasy. Laying on her side and staged seductively facing away from the camera, the static woman looks back at him over her shoulder, tousled hair falling around her face. Her mouth slightly agape with a hint of a knowing smile; “You want to fuck me,” it speaks wordlessly. His eyes trace the curve of her body as it dives from her shoulder to her waist before rising up to her hip. Her bare ass is a fucking tease. He imagines being off-camera so he can see her pussy, instantly jealous of non-existent on-lookers.

His eyes follow the line of her spine as it accentuates the flow of her sexy repose. He can see just a side view of her breast and hint of nipple peaking around her side, and he aches to see her small tits. Jealous, again, that he can’t see all of her, he moves his hands to the hips on top of him.

“No,” she whispers, adjusting his hands, and he is again brought back to the stunning reality that she’s here, in front of him. On him. Against him. She peers back at him, mimicking the gaze she holds in the image. She rocks her pelvis and her pussy presses against his zipper, the mounting pressure below making his pants convex against her concavity. The mathematics of their bodies check out, he thinks to himself. Aroused as she hears his breathing quicken, she unconsciously arches her spine, pressing herself into him. His gaze shifts down as she pulls up on the material covering her thighs, drawing it higher up her body until he can see the edge of her tattoo, flowers trailing down her hip. Palpitations dance in his chest as she takes his hands and places them on that supple spot between her hips and thighs, where her curves fit perfectly in the palm of his hands. He closes his eyes as he takes in her perfect skin; softness textured by thin striations of stretch marks, branding the hourglass expansion of her figure.

“Stay,” she says, and leans back against him. He half notices her phone go dark, his original fantasy disappearing from view. As he looks down her body, her spread legs and obliquely-angled knees create a directional arrow that points between her legs. He’s jealous of the chair sitting across from them. Her fingertips graze upward on her inner thighs. Her right hand disappears as her left continues its journey up to her left breast. She’s fully clothed, but he can tell she’s pinching her nipple, her chest rising and falling from the height of her deep breaths. He feels her right arm moving, but can’t see the point of contact. She’s touching the place he’s imagined visiting since they first made eye contact. He’s frustrated. He wants to see. Her hands settle into a rhythm as she leans her head back; he can smell the perfume on her neck, rising with the heat from her throat. He inhales and turns his face into her, lips lightly touching the space behind her ear.

She gasps at the unexpected sensation, then moans lightly, the sound escaping through her parted lips. Unconsciously, her fingers work just a little faster, a little harder… Her right arm arches and he knows she’s inside herself. He begins to move his hands again.

“Stay,” she commands, and he’s surprised that his cock pulses, excited by her authoritative tone. Her head rests back on his shoulder; her body begins to gyrate on top of him, left hand now gripping her entire breast as her right rhythmically dips out of sight. He realizes his nails are digging into her bucking hips. Her low back presses against him as she curves inward. Her brow furrows; heavy breaths turn to breathy moans until a cry of “F-f-fuuuuuck…” escapes her lips.

Her left hands relaxes as her right slows, wrist bobbing as she swirls her fingertips in little circles and arcs. “Mmmm…” she moans as her eyes float open and she rolls her head to look at him.

“Good boy.” she smiles, and leans forward. One last grind of her pussy against his binding jeans and she eases off his lap. His hands slip from her hips as she stands up and lifts the back of her skirt. As she leans forward, he sees her pussy is engorged and slick, evidence of her practiced self-pleasure. She straightens, casts one last glance over that same fucking shoulder and giggles as she saunters out of the room. He smiles.

“What the fuck…” he whispers as the door clicks shut behind her. He shakes his head, and wonders what her real name is.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/y6xrml/stay