Page 26 of Surviving Lies

His hardness against my lower back. And yes, he was a big boy.

His hands rubbed along my stomach as we sat there, those same fluttery feelings from before erupting in my belly again. Thankfully, he was behind me and didn’t see the hardening of my nipples. I maneuvered a bit, trying to rub my thighs together, attempting to relieve some of the coiled tension building between my legs.

Then his fingers dipped under the lower edge of my tank, slowly working up my torso. Even though we were hidden, the chance of getting caught heightened my senses. My eyes scanned the area, checking for people, eyes on us, but I came up empty.

Bumps broke out all over my skin, and I knew he felt them. His low moan of approval told me so.

“Did you think about me in class, Becca?” he whispered in my ear. His sultry voice only intensified the burning that was building inside me.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly.

“Good, because now I’d like to give you something else to remember. Just lean back and close your eyes.” His words sounded like a command with no true bite to them, but I listened.

As soon as my head hit his chest, one hand pushed my shirt and bra up and out of the way, both breasts fully exposed. My hands instinctively covered myself as I opened my eyes in sudden fear.

“Relax, I’m looking out. I won’t let anyone see you. I don’twantanyone else to see you, so they won’t. Sit back and let me do this.” His hands came over mine and peeled them off my body. His fingers returned and went straight to my nipples, which were already hard from the fresh air. He rolled and pinched them, which sent shock waves to the nub between my legs. As soon as I closed my legs to aid in the intense need, a hand stopped me. “Uh-uh, no relief down there yet. It needs to build up. Let it build; then I’ll take care of you.” Gage was literally holding my thighs apart. Fuck! I needed to rub them together, and it was taking everything in me to not reach down and touch myself. But something told me he wouldn’t let me do that, either.

As his left hand continued its assault on my nipple, the right kneaded the other breast, pushing them together. “Becca, I’ve been dreaming of touching you, touching your tits, ever since you were bouncing on that couch. They’re amazing, perfect.” His mouth was at my ear, kissing my lobe, his tongue dipping in, causing my body to shiver in his arms. “Your skin is like silk, from your ears,” he whispered as his tongue moved farther down, “to your neck.” His fingertips brushed the side of my breast, the sensation causing me to moan. “Shh, that will definitely attract some fans. I want you all to myself.” He glided his hand along my side. “This skin right here” – he continued caressing my breast as he spoke – “on the side of your tit, that might be the softest skin I’ve felt in my life. I can’t wait to taste it.”

Then his hand moved to my thigh, grazing it lightly. I bit my lower lip to keep from making any noises as his hand migrated up, his fingers dipping under the hem of my shorts. As his fingers moved higher, his grip on my nipple increased, the pinch turning to a pull. The sensation intensified as his hand reached under my panties. But then, just as quickly, his hand retreated, landing on my inner thigh, giving me a squeeze.

I couldn’t take any more. I started scrambling out of his arms, wanting him to do ... more!

But he gripped me in place against his chest, one arm across my breasts, the other turning my head toward his mouth.

“I love that I do this to you, but you need to learn to take things slow. It’s not a sprint. Allow this to spread through you, to take its time and grow. I’ll take you to the edge and back many times, if you’ll let me.”

I squirmed in his arms. “I want to gooverthe edge, Gage.”

“We’ll take the plunge, don’t worry, but you have to trust me.” After he said that, he waited, not moving, as if needing my answer. I gave it to him by closing my eyes as I leaned my head back. I pushed his hands to my breasts and he kneaded them before starting the slow torture of my nipples once again. Thankfully, a hand started its journey down my body. My running shorts were stretchy enough for him to slide over, my core fully exposed and awaiting his touch. But the shorts wouldn’t stay open for him, so he needed to use both of his hands, and they came around my hips and over my thighs.

“Becca, we should not leave those tits of yours unattended. I think you should take over for me.” As his left hand pulled my shorts all the way open, my hands went to my chest, attacking my own breasts in anticipation of Gage’s hand finally touching me.

“Please, Gage, I need you to touch me. I want you inside me.”

But he still took his time. His finger found the edges of me, running up and down, teasing me. His finger touched every inch of me while being able to avoid the important parts; I was borderline frantic. Finally, he stopped at my entrance. His now wet finger traced a circle around my opening, teasing. My back arched, trying to force more from him, wanting more. But he held me against him, his hands pushing my thighs.

“Relax.” That was his only word in my ear.

My fingers started an assault on my nipples, hoping to take the edge off. I pinched, I pulled, all the things I watched him do to me moments before.

His finger moved closer to my opening, almost pushing inside me, and I froze. I wanted to feel the moment he entered me. He pushed in, then pulled out, rubbing his finger all over my pussy.

“You are so wet, so fucking wet. You’re dripping all over me. I look forward to the day when it’s my tongue down there.” His words brought me even closer to an orgasm than his hands did. As soon as he finished talking, his finger thrust deep inside me. While his other hand held me down, my hips tried to thrust up with the intensity. I turned my face into his chest, muffling my moans against his shirt. But then his other hand worked its way to the apex of my sex. He opened me up, exposing it, and grabbed a hold of my clit.

“Someone is really turned on, huh? Your clit is so swollen and big in my fingers. Do you want me to rub it or pinch it? What feels better?”

“Fuck!” I whisper screamed into his chest. “Gage, I’m going to come!”

“Tell me what to do to your clit, Becca. Rub or pinch?”

I didn’t care at that moment; I just wanted him to keep touching me. I was so close. But then his hands stopped all movement.

My eyes shot up to him in disapproval, anger.

“Becca, tell me what you want. Gentle or rough?”

It had been so long, I really didn’t care; I just knew I needed his hands on me, in me, doing anything he could to release these built-up sensations inside of me dying to get out.

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