A New Crush, a Naughty Rush

Written by Tara Tainton

Tuesday, 06 January 2009 18:26

Ooooh, oh how I've had my eye on him. This one. The one I've been eyeing from afar, wishing to get closer to, and hoping to catch the attention of. He smiles, and I smile. His eyes shimmer, and my heart skips a beat. I haven't practiced flirting nearly frequently and recently enough. I begin to wonder if I still know what I'm doing or if I remember my own style.

And it's so very important. Because this one feels important. I have to know him. And I want to be able to stare into those eyes with real permission, for an intense amount of time, and with deliberate intention. I want to know what's behind them.

I'm feeling deliciously excited... confidently giddy. And I'm so very horny. Horny at the oddest times. Without warning, my pussy plumps up with a rush of arousal, and I'm left throbbing, stunned, and without the best means of release right in the middle of my day. Every single time I receive a new message to read. I've never been affected this way before. Not with mere words.

And I like it. Oh, how I like it!

A brush of his skin burns mine. His words seem to open the key to my soul... and with a direct line to my sexual desire. His natural thoughts seem to be the right ones, and I'm just left wanting more, more, more.

I want to know. To see. To understand. To touch. I want to incorporate his thoughts into mine, mix them up, and create something divine.

I'm walking around with this extra energy... like I'm being watched. Or I want to be? I'm walking around with thoughts of another, of a very sincere crush, and it feels like he's with me. Perhaps, he's so palpable in my thoughts, that I'm actually pulling him to me.

One could hope.

All the while... I've been protecting his image, kind of guarding it from lesser thoughts. His messages affect me, and I'm plagued with a condition I cannot allow myself to tend to. At least, I couldn't before last night.

I think I've wanted to keep him safe, keep his representation in my mind free from all expectations... and definitely... from naughty fantasies. I haven't allowed them. It's too soon. This time, I want the real-life experience first.

Well, until I couldn't contain myself anymore. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, and it finally dawned on me that perhaps, just maybe, a little self-gratification would put my mind and body at ease together. And I could sleep.

I slipped my hand down between my legs in the darkness and shut my eyes tightly, hoping to conjure up an image suitable for the occasion. I didn't want to use his. Not yet. But I quickly realized I didn't want anyone else either. Not even a completely fictitious image hastily drawn in my mind to suit my urgent needs.

His image appeared... those eyes and those lips... and... I didn't know what to do with it. I couldn't label him. Not quickly, not at all. I couldn't classify him. I couldn't assign him to a specific task or role. Not even for a damn fantasy.

His image hovered over me, smiling, sometimes in a serious stare, and waited for my dictation. And the scenario finally came.

We were in the darkness, standing together in the heavy air of a sex club. We were friends, just as we are now, enjoying the moment, comfortably taking in all the sights, and just the right amount of giddy with excitement. Sex was all around after all... the hard stuff. The seedy, real stuff. Strangers and couples, cocks out and breasts bouncing. And we were cool, calm, and collected. And holding hands.

We weren't there for sex. We were there for... entertainment. The scene was for our amusement, something to talk and giggle about later. We practically dared ourselves to be there together. And there we were.

My hand was being held. Squeezed even. The tightness of our linked fingers seemed to reflect the intensity of the moment and of the sights and sounds all around us. Something happened. That horribly vague "friends" term grew foggy and faded into a heavy mist. The moment took over. Consumed us.

He pulled me closer with his strong grasp, and I willingly, timidly leaned in. I looked at him, searching for his intention, and only found an expression of seriousness and deliberation. No words, no questions, nothing revealed.

Our bodies were pressed tightly together, and his hand smoothly, confidently slid down the front of my pants. So welcomed and so unbelievably comfortable. I looked away, took in the view of the crowd around us, and hugged him close as his fingers worked me... every touch and every point of pressure so strongly, rapidly progressing me to that ultimate point. And I came... at the tips of his deft fingers... completely unbeknown to anyone else.

Now... I don't know if I'll blush a little bit more in his presence. I don't know if the eyes will have a different affect on me than they already do. I don't know how long "friends" will do us justice.

I just know that I want to know him more. Closer and more deeply. Much more intensely.

Those fucking blue eyes!

I want to tear off that hooded sweatshirt. I want to see what's beneath those shorts,now revealing only his strong legs and sexy-as-fuck tattoo. I want to feel how strong he is... when he really, really means it.

Fucking college-aged style and boyish charm. Fucking mischievous smile and hot young age. The fucking power that you have! And I don't think you even know it...