The door swings open with a creak a few moments after you knock. I’m standing there, dressed in gray sweatpants and a fitting long sleeve shirt. It’s the first time you’ve seen me, and the first time I’ve seen you, because, despite having talked online for over a year, we haven’t actually met before. You’re shorter than I expected, smaller, too — something I love. It makes me want to hold you. I’m skinnier than you thought I would be, but you don’t seem to mind one way or the other.
Standing there in the doorframe, sweating a little from climbing the stairs and the sudden increase in temperature after braving the cold outside, you give me a shy smile and say hello before looking down at my feet. I step aside and say something that sounds like a greeting as you walk into my apartment. You turn and watch as I close the door, your purse hanging between your legs, and you can’t help but notice the hints of muscle definition in my arms through the shirt.
But you’ve seen all of that already, of course, and in much greater detail. Because it’s been months that we’ve been showing off our bodies to each other. It’s especially after a workout that we like to show off. For me, I usually remove my shirt and pull my pants down to the root of my cock so that you can see my hardened stomach, the V shape leading to my crotch. Sometimes I show you my arms, the triceps that stick out of the back and the biceps that seem to bulge at the top. And you love to show me your little waist, especially in one of those skin tight shirts that hugs your sides and your breasts. The athletic leggings — hugging your round ass and thick sides. It drives me crazy. I always tell you that.
But now when you walk in, glancing at the muscular body hiding under my clothing, I don’t say anything about your body. Maybe this is because you’re wearing a big winter coat that covers everything up. I extend my hand to take your purse and I hang it on the hook next to the door, then i take your coat as you peel out of it, revealing that tiny waist and round breasts that always make my mouth go dry. My eyes linger on your waist, your tits, just for moments. Then I take your coat and hang it next to your purse.
You’re feeling a little nervous, not uncomfortable exactly, but you’ve never met up with someone from the internet, much less someone who you’ve exchanged half naked pictures with. It’s weird that this stranger knows your body, the good and bad features. You’re nervous about what I might think of you now that you’re not in control of the way I see you, not on control of the angle of your body in the shot, the cast of light from the open window that highlights your toned muscles in the perfect way. You’re not really sure if you want me to see any of your body, not that you’re here. But you’re curious. What will I do? What move will I make, if any? Are we going to hookup? Maybe just feel each other up? Maybe I’ll want you to give me a blow job. That really makes you nervous — you’re not confident in your abilities to give a good blow job.
But I don’t say anything about any of that. Your arms are crossed, your back arched a little bit into your rounded shoulders. I can tell you’re feeling shy. So I offer you some tea, a comfortable place to sit by the window. You laugh, not because anything is funny, just because you’re relieved that you don’t really have to do anything. I seem to be in control of everything, and that makes it easy for you.
So you take your seat in one of the blue chairs by the window and look out and down over the street where a car drifts past. Smoky exhaust billows out of the tailpipe as it zooms away. Behind you in the kitchen, I’m filling a kettle with some water. The sound of the water crashing into the aluminum pot is strangely comforting, and you sit back a little further on the chair and put your feet up on the ottoman.
Still in the kitchen, I tell you there’s a blanket on the other chair, if you would like to use it. You grab it, not really because you’re cold, it just feels good to sort of hide under it. I put the kettle on the stove, twist the knob on, and step away as it begins to heat. I stand to the side of the other chair, looking down at you with a gentle smile and ask if I should put a record on. You love music, we seem to have similar tastes. You grin, maybe a little too big, and say that that would be wonderful. I walk away to the other side of the room, flip through the cardboard sleeves as the water begins to boil.
Moments later the kettle is going off and I’ve since put a vinyl on the platter and spun it. Music is playing but you don’t recognize it. I tell you the name and artist but you’ve already forgotten it in your nervousness. You’re starting to wonder what exactly it is you’re doing here, what exactly it is that you want, what it is that I want and expect. I pour the cups of tea and bring them over, setting them down on coasters on the little table between our chairs. You thank me and hold the cup in your hands, inhaling that warm perfume and feeling it soak deep into your lungs. It’s sort of relaxing in a way that makes you want to cuddle up and fall asleep. Maybe you’ll cuddle up with me and fall asleep, but you can’t even imagine making the moves that need to happen for that to happen. So you just hold your cup and sit silently, expectantly.
We’re talking, neither of us really knows about what. I’m asking you about the drive, if there was traffic, you aren’t really saying much. Our tea is still much too hot to drink and so I set my cup down and lean back in my chair and look at you.
You are fatally aware of my eyes crawling over your body. It seems like every imperfection that you can feel must be screaming out at me, but the truth is that I don’t really notice imperfections. What I see is thick, curly black hair spilling over your round shoulders. I see a sharp jawline, sharp eyebrows, large, shy eyes. Below that I see your breasts stretching the white fabrics of your shirt. I can faintly see the outline of your bra underneath. And below your breasts is that tiny, tiny little waist that I suddenly really want to grab. I’ve thought about grabbing it and holding it for so long and now you’re really here.
My face turns a little red, I’m not sure if you notice or not. You’re not really looking at my face anyway, you’re sort of looking out the window. I sit up in my seat, lean forward and reach out with my hand. The next thing you know, you feel something on your side, just around from your belly, and you look down to see my hand gently caressing you.
You just look at my hand, like it’s some alien that came out of nowhere. You have no idea how to feel, you have no idea if you like it. But you don’t say anything. You just give a small, uncomfortable laugh, then look up and take a hot sip from the tea and gaze out the window. I pull my chair closer to you and reach out with both hands, placing each one firmly on either side of your body. My touch is so soft and gentle. You’re trying to not be turned on because, really, this is ridiculous. You walk into this guy’s apartment and he just starts touching you without asking? Isn’t this fucked up? Shouldn’t you leave? But you don’t. In fact, you really like it. You like how forward I’m being, that I’m not playing games or being shy and awkward. The confidence is really hot, and you can feel your body temperature rising. Maybe that’s just from the tea, it’s hard to tell.
My hands move up your sides, running smooth over the bra digging into your ribs. Now you’re watching them, anxious to see where they go. I’m anxious to see where they go too, because I don’t really know myself. My hands seem to know what to do, what pressure to apply, how to place the fingers, exactly what speed to move at. Suddenly your tits are cupped in my hands. I can feel the padded bra, the firmness of your breasts underneath that. I tell you how firm your tits feel and this makes you giggle. You set your tea down and sort of open yourself to me, pulling your shoulders apart so that your tits look even bigger, pulling apart the thin material even further.
Your breasts are in my hands again; I’m feeling them fully with my full reach, cupping them and giving them small squeezes. I watch as you tilt your head back a little and close your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip. My hands are all over you, gliding over your stomach and sides, your thighs, your tits, even up to you neck and around your back. You open your eyes and look down at my pants. My cock has grown; it’s poking up under the stretchy gray material of my sweatpants. You suddenly notice the way your heart seems to be thundering in your chest as you imagine touching it, feeling it twitch and stiffen with your hand wrapped around it’s veiny shaft. I’ve shown you pictures of it before, pictures of it fully engorged after you sent me some sexy photos showing off your hot body. It always looked impossibly big in the photos and now you can’t help but wonder if it actually is as big as I’ve made it out to be.
You don’t consciously realize it, but your hands have guided my hands back to your tits and you squeeze down on them. Hot pleasure like some burning furnace gushes through your chest and down towards your stomach. You’re wiggling around in the chair, wishing that I would reach down between your legs and feel your soft little pussy oozing wet. But my hand doesn’t reach down there. Sometimes it gets close, around the inside edges of your thighs, underneath your belly, just over the top of your panty line.
You’re sort of paralyzed, your eyes still closed, maybe because you don’t want to see me looking at you. But you’re starting to not care as much. You feel sexy, hot, desirable. You want me to look at you, the curve of your waist, your round tits, your huge thighs that you know makes your ass look so big and round. I’ve always said you have a wonderful hourglass body, and you really do. It feels unbelievable in my hands, like the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt. My cock is growing considerably, so much that it’s actually starting to hurt. I want to pull it out and have you stroke it, but I resist. Instead, I get off my chair and stand up. You look up at me, sort of confused like: what are you doing? I reach around you, one hand under your thighs and one hand around your ass, and I slowly lift you up off the seat. This makes you laugh and cling to my shoulders before you find yourself on your feet with your chest pressed against the wall and one of my hands running down your back.
I take a stance behind your, thrusting my covered cock into your ass and feeling the precum leak out of me and into my underwear. It feels so good to rub against you like this, and you are shocked by the feeling of my cock against your ass. My hands grip your sides, your waist is so small that I can almost wrap my hands all the way around you. You feel so small and vulnerable, like I could do anything I wanted to you. And I do. I push you against the wall, your cheek riding against the drywall, and you let out an unintentional moan as my hands slide up your sides and around your tits so that I can cup them in my hands again. But I’m not as gentle this time, I feel them with a little more force, pinching your nipples underneath your bra. I spin you around and pull you towards me, my mouth breathing so hot and wet into your neck, my hands cupped around your ass, feeling it beneath those skin tight yoga pants. I pull away for a second, and reach down under your shirt, feeling your bare skin with my own. You’re so hot, my hands are so cold, like ice, ice that you want to melt. Your breath is so heavy now, in and out like you’re running a race. You reach for your shirt and yank it over your head, feeling the exposed skin of your abdomen and chest against the air. You’re wearing this red bra lined with a beautiful lace pattern and I immediately feel myself get harder. The skin over your breasts is so dark and smooth, so beautiful in the evening sunlight. I press your tits together with my hands and bury my face between them, feeling the soft flesh against my eyes. You’ve reached for my crotch and have found my pulsing cock, rubbing it through my sweatpants before finally reaching inside and pulling it out. It feels enormous in your hands, so heavy and thick. It’s not what you expected. You open your eyes and see the veins throbbing in your hands. You feel them, press them a little, sort of in shock that it actually is as big as it looked. You’re rubbing it back and forth and I take a sharp exhale in as I feel your hand wrapped around me. It feels so good to be rock hard in your grasp. There’s something intoxicating about exposing a hard cock to the air, it feels so big and so good. Especially when the tip is wet, when the skin can slide up and down the shaft with ease.
I pull my face from your tits and examine your body. The extreme concave curve of your hourglass, the way your thighs are so large that they seem extended from your ass, your round tits that shine in the light. My cock is leaking precum all over your hand as you rub it. For reasons you can’t explain or decipher, you want it in your mouth. You want to feel the stiff rod made of muscle against your lips, the veins in your mouth, you want to feel that wet tip poking the back of your throat.
But before you get the chance, though, I’ve already wrapped my hands around your jaw, just over your neck, and I’ve brought your face close to mine and I’ve looked deep into your eyes, so deep that you can’t look away, and then I close mine and plant my lips against yours. Your lips are dry at first, and so when we pull away the first time you wet them. And it feels so good. So warm and slippery, your mouth so small and wet. My tongue against yours, yours against mine, like they’re in some sort of dancing in the space between our lips. That hot pleasure is burning through your pussy, you can feel how wet you are. You’re so wet there must be stain between your legs but you’re too preoccupied to check.
We kiss for so long that you’ve lost track of time. I have too. But the next thing I know, you’ve begun making your way down my torso, your hands under my shift, feeling those stiff, hard abs. I pull the shirt off and peer down at my flat stomach where your hands currently touch and feel the muscle. I grab your hands and trace the V shape down to my cock, we trace the individual abs, the pec muscles on my chest, I bring your hands to my arms and wrap your fingers around my biceps as I flex them. My arms are ripped, they’re so strong and big and you want them to wrap around you and never let you go.
But my cock is thrusting out from my six pack like an arrow, and it’s pointed right at you. You wet your lips and bite your tongue and get down on your knees. My hands tangled in your hair, cupped around your tiny sull. It’s so vulnerable. You look at the cock in front of your face, getting a close up of the stretched skin and bulging veins. You kiss the tip of it and I shudder, desperate for you to lick it. I tell you to lick the tip, and you do. The precum is warm and salty in your mouth, sort of slippery too. You lick it again, then you lick the shaft up and down until it’s all wet and slippery. The way your hand can so easily slip up and down along the veins. You bring the tip to your lips again, pausing for a second, feeling the blood inside the cock twitching at your touch. My entire body is on fire, my abs flexing, my arms firmly holding your skull. You look up at me and see that my eyes are closed, consumed in the feeling. My breath is heavy, my chest heaving up and down like yours was. You trace my abs, trace the contours in my stomach. When you do this, it seems like my cock gets harder. And it is. I love when you touch me.
Then my cock is in your warm mouth. So small and wet, but being filled with this enormous dick. It feels humiliating for you, just for a moment, but then you realize that, impossibly, you like the humiliation. What the hell is up with that? Why is that such a turn on? But then the humility turns to power, power with the realization that you are now in control of me, that you can basically make me do whatever you want as long as I don’t cum.
Back and forth your head moves, like my cock is the track and your mouth is just following the course. Your tongue spinning around my cock when the tip hits your throat, the way it makes you gag sometimes and you have to take it out for air. But you go right back on it, like you’re hungry for it, like you want to suck out the cum more than anything else. You have no idea if you’re doing this blowjob thing right, but it seems to be working. The cock is still rock hard, my body still tense and flexing, my face still contorted in pleasure. My grip around the back of your skull tightens, thrusting myself a little deeper into your little throat. You choke, but you don’t push away. You want it to be deeper, you want it inside your throat. The power, somehow, has shifted back to me. It’s like your mouth is just mine to do as I please, and right now I’m using your mouth to fuck it. You give into it, completely, because for some reason it feels right. Your mouth is perfect for this, it’s the most amazing mouth to fuck. It’s smooth and slippery inside, your lips have great padding, your throat slowly opening up the more I push into it.
And finally I pull out of your mouth and lift you up so that I can put my tongue in instead. My hands pressing the sides of your face, the soft flesh under your cheeks, the little moans in your throat. You want to be consumed, to melt into me, to completely lose all thought and feeling to the immense weight of pleasure bubbling in the very bottom of your stomach.
With my hands on your tiny waist, I lead you down the hallway and into the bedroom. You’re feeling a little awkward and cold without your clothing on as we make our way there, not to mention that you haven’t even seen this part of the apartment before. But it’s just a normal bedroom with a normal bed. Except I throw you down onto it, ass down, and you sort of laugh at the excitement of that sudden rush. I pull my sweatpants off, exposing my entire naked body. My cock standing erect and at attention. My abs flexing in the soft light. You want your hands on me again, and I want mine on yours. I grab the folds of your yoga pants and give one, strong pull. Clumsily they finally come off, same with the socks, which causes fits of giggles between us.
You’re laying on my bed, wearing nothing but that red bra and a black pair of Calvin Klein panties. You probably feel a little exposed, but the sight of my hard cock and thirsty eyes is telling you that you look sexy. You position your body in a certain way, a way that accentuates your curves, makes your ass stick out a little bit. You curl your lips so they look more full and give me this look… this look with these squinted eyes that says: come and get it.
I grit my teeth and take a moment to praise your body, to feel every inch of it before I own it. Your tits rounded over your chest, the soft definition of your upper abs, the way your thighs are so big and so round that it seems impossible to grab all of the flesh in a satisfying way. I’m being so gentle now, the soft pads of my fingers so loving against your smooth, dark skin. It’s making you breath heavy again, your chest rising and falling, your tits pushing against the red lace. I get on the bed next to you, slowly, and turn you over. I take firm handfuls of your ass, but not too firm. Just enough to really feel it. I run my fingers down the backs of your legs, behind your knee, to your feet and I give them a quick little massage before turning you back over, climbing on top of you, and pushing my now looser cock into your panties, right between your gushing lips. The motion, the sensation, the image in your head — it’s way too much. You can’t take it anymore, you need me inside of you. You need to feel that enormous cock pushing you apart, digging into you, going so, so deep like it might reach your very center.
Your hand is wrapped around my cock which is attempting to penetrate your pussy from the protective layer your panties are providing. The panties are absolutely soaked and it’s sort of uncomfortable. You want me to take them off, but you don’t want me to look at you. But you know I’m going to, so you just keep your eyes closed as I slip them off and spread your legs open.
You are so wet. When I reach with my hand to give your clit just the smallest of touches, you shudder, and my finger comes away a little sticky. I make a little rubbing circle motion against your clit, right at the top where I know it’s most sensitive. You’re moaning loudly now, your eyes still closed, your mouth open, your hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly. Oh my god, you’re saying. You say it over and over, like it’s been programmed into you to keep repeating. Oh fuck, you say, changing it up a bit. I let a finger slip inside you, just a tiny bit. You inhale sharply. I push it in a little further, bit by bit. You aren’t breathing, you’re in fact very still. I push my finger all the way in, holding my breath as well, and when my knuckles hit your lips you let out a deep exhale.
I grasp one of your tits and get my fingers under the bra to play with the nipple which has grown hard and erect. I pinch it a little, cupping the breast in my hand and making a back and forth motion with my finger in your pussy. The bedsheets are all wet but I don’t care. I’m pushing into you a little faster, then I slow down, then I rub in different spots, feeling the different textures inside you, patiently testing to see what is most effective, where is most sensitive. I find the spot that makes your body go rigid and I rub it for a while. You’re shaking your head yes, then no, then yes, then it’s all the same. You’re loud now, almost screaming, the pleasure is unbearable and so hot like it might just explode if given a few more seconds.
And with your bra still on, your tit cupped in my hand, the nipple hard and erect, your tiny little waist squirming all around and the abs flexing, you let out the deepest exhale possible. Like every particle of energy in you has just given out, like the greatest sense of release you’re capable of feeling has just overcome every synapse in your brain. I feel your body go limp, your nipple becomes disinterested in my touching. You giggle a little bit, feeling very overwhelmed and flustered. You quickly look down at me and I grin and laugh and you laugh and cover your face with your hands. You tell me that you came really hard, and I say that I know, which makes you flush and laugh. My cock has gone mostly soft now, after not really getting any attention during the fingering. But the horniess still rides in my stomach. We just decide to get up, get dressed and head back to the living room. I can’t stop touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you. Your body is perfect in my hands. We sit on the couch, cuddle up next to each other with a new record on, and I bring your hand to my cock and tell you to stroke me. I’m still soft, and even after a few minutes of stroking, I’m still soft. But then you take my hand and place in on your breast, and instantly you feel me getting harder. My breath is shorter now, quicker, not as deep. You slip your hand under my shirt as you stroke and feel my abs flexing. You love how hard and flat they are, and I love that you love touching them.
You’re stroking hard now, my cock is nearly fully extended at seven inches and it hurts. It hurts when it gets this big, but it feels so impossibly good. You stop stroking for a second and pull the blanket back and look at my dick. It’s huge, you can’t believe that you fit it in your mouth. You stack both fists on top of the other with my dick running through the middle of it and the tip still sticks out at the top. My breath is so quick now, like I’m begging you to let me come. And so you start stroking again, faster and faster, and then you stop and spit in your hands and start stroking again. It feels so fucking good that I immediately start cuming. The cum is flying out of my tip as I throw my head back and close my eyes. You keep stroking, up and down over and over but the cum keeps flying out, landing in little puddles on my stomach and your hand. After the first few seconds, a crazy idea forms in your head and you thrust your head down over my dick as I pump my last remaining cum down your throat with both of my hands wrapped around your skull.
When I’m finished, you pull back, swallow and laugh and snuggle up next to me. Then, without us really meaning to, and with the windows dark and cold, we fall asleep on top of the other, the soft sounds of the music guiding us.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/zwxfe0/the_day_you_came_over_and_i_touched_you_m25f24