CHAPTER 5

My handsome stranger and I barely manage to get into the closet and shut the door before the person enters. There is a small gap in the closet door that we can peek through, and we both see that it is only the janitor. There was probably no need for us to hide in the closet, but now that I am only dressed in my bra and panties, it feels a bit silly for us to step out.

Meanwhile, the janitor has begun to dance to the R&B music while he vacuums up the office.

I can feel my date’s body gently rumbling with laughter behind me. His hands wrap around my stomach, holding me against him firmly. It feels a bit naughty and high school to be hiding in the closet like this, and I can’t help grinning, too. There’s a little thrill of danger, the excitement of possibly being caught.

When I feel his lips against my neck, and his hands sliding up to massage my breasts, I moan softly.

“Is this okay?” he whispers against my ear.

I nod.

Quickly and expertly unclasping my bra, he slides it off my shoulders and lets it hang on the doorknob of the closet. He then takes both of my breasts into his hands and begins to knead them gently, slowly, and thoroughly.

Oh. God.

I let my head fall back against him as the pleasure courses through my body. He takes his time. He massages every inch of my breasts, in a slow and tantalizing way. Then he lets his thumbs roll over my nipples, which are erect and sensitive due to my arousal and the cool air. I gasp, feeling the heat and wetness grow between my thighs. He toys with them until my knees feel weak, and I am completely putty in his hands. I almost think that I might be able to orgasm fromthis.

Then, when I think I might not be able to take anymore, his hand slides down over my stomach, and cups the mound of my sex, over my panties.

He kisses my neck again, and whispers again in my ear. “Do you want me to keep going?”

I nod again. “Please,” I whisper. I have completely forgotten that there’s another person on the other side of that door, and I don’t care. The vacuum cleaner and music are blasting, and I’m sure he can’t hear anything. I just feel dizzy and blinded with pleasure.

My mysterious stranger keeps one of his hands on my breast, but slides the other into my panties. He pushes the folds of my skin apart, and tests my wetness.

“Fuck,” he whispers gruffly against my ear, when he sees how turned on I am.

“I want you,” I murmur to him softly, grinding my butt back against him. Even as I say it, I wonder what’s come over me. I can’t believe the words leaving my mouth. It’s not like me at all to be so open and trusting of a stranger I’ve only just met. And there wasn’t really enough booze in my chocolate milk to get me drunk—just barely a nice buzz that’s only just starting to creep in.

Actually, I think it’s just allhim. He’s just so handsome, sweet, and adorable that it feels reallyeasyto be like this with him. He seems like someone I’ve known for years, somehow. And the feeling of him pressed so closely to me, and his masculine scent invading my senses—it makes me lose my mind a little bit. Oh, it’s just heavenly. I am drunk on him. He makes me forget about everything.

“Not yet,” he whispers to me, as he uses one finger to draw slow circles around my clit, spreading my wetness around tortuously. The sensation makes my whole body tremble with pleasure, which I’m sure he can feel. He then slides his hand lower, and inserts one finger into my wetness, gently pulsing in and out of me.

I turn my head to the side and press my face against his shoulder, as my breath starts to come in short, shallow gasps. I can’t think as I press my body against his hand, seeking more. One of his hands continues to knead my breast while the other fingers me, and soon I’m just a mess, writhing and moaning against his shoulder. He takes one of his knees and uses it to push my legs apart slightly, to get better access. I can feel his erection pressed up against my ass as he pleasures me, so I know that he is enjoying this too.

He inserts a second finger into me, and pulses a bit more roughly, and I moan, panting, and enjoying the sensation, but wishing it was him filling me up instead.

The vacuum cleaner stops abruptly. The man takes a hand off my breast, and clamps it over my mouth to muffle my moans. He then slides his fingers out of me, pulling a string of my hot wetness out, and spreading it around my most sensitive nub. He uses the same two fingers to gently stroke back and forth across my clitoris, rubbing and rubbing until the pleasure builds in me, and I forget where I am.

I arch my back against him, and moan into his hand, which he holds tightly over my lips.

“Come for me, June,” he whispers gruffly into my ear, before gently biting my earlobe. Oh, even that tiny sensation of his teeth against my skin drives me wild. I let my head roll back against his shoulder, turning to press my face against his, feeling his lips against my temple, and the shallowness of his hot breath against my cheek. His hand moves faster against my clit, sending shockwaves through me which build and build until my whole body is trembling with pleasure.

When my orgasm hits, it explodes, and the sensations tear through me like a riptide. I am so weak and shuddering against him, that I would surely fall if he wasn’t holding me tightly. And I would surely scream if his hand wasn’t clamped around my mouth—which somehow feels intensely erotic as well. I am so glad for the darkness of the closet hiding my facial expressions, because I’m sure that my eyes rolled back into my head and I must have looked possessed.

He holds me tightly against him as I come down from the high, and he removes his hand from my mouth, allowing me to catch my breath. He kisses the side of my head as I gasp for oxygen madly, like I have never breathed before. I don’t know why I suddenly need air so badly. I guess with all the muscles in my body clenching tightly like that… orgasms must require a lot of oxygen.

I don’t really know. I haven’t had enough to tell. I certainly haven’t any like this.

I’m not sure how long I stand here, catching my breath and panting in his arms. But at some point, he reaches out and grasps the door handle, allowing the closet door to open. The janitor must have gone. I didn’t even notice. I was in another world entirely. He seems to understand how I feel without me needing to communicate, because he picks me up and carries me over to the couch, laying me down gently. He reaches for my sweater, and arranges it around my naked chest, and then finds a folded blanket. He lays beside me and pulls me close, before pulling the blanket over both of us.

“What about you?” I ask, as I blissfully cuddle up against his chest, feeling cocooned and peaceful, and perfect.

“Just get some rest, sweetheart,” he says gently.

And somehow, I’ve never felt so cared for.