Sunday, December 26, 2004
I put my hands on the back of the bench, and you take them and place them on the seat. You have me standing with my behind in the air, and you brush off the bench next to me and sit down. "Look at me," you say.
I start to lift my head, and you tell me not to move it - I am just to move my eyes to meet yours. You look at me and smile sweetly. You reach over and unbutton my coat, and then open an additional button on my blouse. Then you put your arm up on the back of the bench and you lean over and whisper in my ear.
"So you think it is amusing to stuff snow down the back of my coat, and then to bounce snowballs off my chest, do you?"
I'm having a little trouble meeting your eyes, and I am biting the inside of my cheek trying not to smile, because we both know that, right now, yes, I do think it is amusing. In fact, I think it is pretty close to the most fun I've had all day. But I also think that you might not agree, so I'm trying really hard not to laugh. Of course, standing here with my ass in the air isn't helping with that. The position is pretty rediculous, and I point out to you that it isn't helping me remain serious about the conversation.
"Ah, but if I let you sit down that gentleman will have to look elsewhere for his amusement this afternoon," you reply. I start to turn my head, but you swiftly (but gently) ensure that I will continue to look directly at you.
Now I am starting to get uncomfortable. It has been more than a few minutes, and there is evidently an audience I hadn't anticipated. I've gone from trying to keep from laughing to a nervous giggle. And you show no sign of being ready to move.
You slip your arm off the back of the bench, and reach into my blouse. Your fingers are icy, and as you touch my nipple, I jump. You smile, finally, and take it between your thumb and forefinger. You close your fingers on it, softly and then with more pressure. You pinch, and pull, and bring my breast out of my blouse into the cold air. You keep smiling, and now I am smiling again too.
You close your hand around my breast, and kiss me on the cheek. You get up from the bench and pull me up as well. You bring your other hand up and drop a snowball inside my blouse. "Well, now I guess we're even."
You take my hand and lead me back to the truck. You take me back to the room, and as we go inside you tell me to take everything off, as it will be much easier to warm up without all those pesky clothes on. Turns out you're right again.
In fact, every time you touch someplace new with those icy fingers I feel just a little bit more warm. And by the time you slip them between my legs and inside me, I've forgotten all about the cold.
I start to lift my head, and you tell me not to move it - I am just to move my eyes to meet yours. You look at me and smile sweetly. You reach over and unbutton my coat, and then open an additional button on my blouse. Then you put your arm up on the back of the bench and you lean over and whisper in my ear.
"So you think it is amusing to stuff snow down the back of my coat, and then to bounce snowballs off my chest, do you?"
I'm having a little trouble meeting your eyes, and I am biting the inside of my cheek trying not to smile, because we both know that, right now, yes, I do think it is amusing. In fact, I think it is pretty close to the most fun I've had all day. But I also think that you might not agree, so I'm trying really hard not to laugh. Of course, standing here with my ass in the air isn't helping with that. The position is pretty rediculous, and I point out to you that it isn't helping me remain serious about the conversation.
"Ah, but if I let you sit down that gentleman will have to look elsewhere for his amusement this afternoon," you reply. I start to turn my head, but you swiftly (but gently) ensure that I will continue to look directly at you.
Now I am starting to get uncomfortable. It has been more than a few minutes, and there is evidently an audience I hadn't anticipated. I've gone from trying to keep from laughing to a nervous giggle. And you show no sign of being ready to move.
You slip your arm off the back of the bench, and reach into my blouse. Your fingers are icy, and as you touch my nipple, I jump. You smile, finally, and take it between your thumb and forefinger. You close your fingers on it, softly and then with more pressure. You pinch, and pull, and bring my breast out of my blouse into the cold air. You keep smiling, and now I am smiling again too.
You close your hand around my breast, and kiss me on the cheek. You get up from the bench and pull me up as well. You bring your other hand up and drop a snowball inside my blouse. "Well, now I guess we're even."
You take my hand and lead me back to the truck. You take me back to the room, and as we go inside you tell me to take everything off, as it will be much easier to warm up without all those pesky clothes on. Turns out you're right again.
In fact, every time you touch someplace new with those icy fingers I feel just a little bit more warm. And by the time you slip them between my legs and inside me, I've forgotten all about the cold.
