During the ride to the motel, though, I derived great pleasure from teasing him with my touch.During the ride to the motel, though, I derived great pleasure from teasing him with my touch. His car was a manual, so his hands were primarily occupied with the mechanics of driving. But I had no such restrictions. I ran my fingers lovingly through his hair, I rubbed the back of his neck, then slid my hand down his arm. I squeezed his hand between shifting gears and then rested my hand on his thigh. Occasionally, the car would hit a bump and my hand would 'accidentally' slip down farther on his thigh, resting lightly on the inner surface. Another jolt, and my hand moved inwards, until my pinky just touched the cloth-clad hardness camped between his legs. So innocent, so unintended. His light chatter drifted off into silence, and we both stared out the front window, he watching the traffic, I watching the passing scenery. But through the pretense I knew he was wondering how far I would go with that left hand of mine. So far my touching had been intentionless. We stopped at a light, and started again. As he shifted from gear to gear, I could feel the shifting of his muscles through my hand on his inner thigh. His strength excited me, and elicited delicious images of his strength applied to a more erotic purpose. My thoughts surreptitious- ly directed my actions, and by the time he had shifted into overdrive, I had moved my hand to cradle his erection, not overly large but just as strong as the rest of him. I squeezed him firmly. His body tensed and I heard the breath hiss out of him. He said nothing as I squeezed him again, then scratched my nails lightly over the fabric. I slowly teased him, taunted him, and me. The promise of ecstasy under fabric was more than I could bear. |