Cherry Chaser

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

CHERRY CHASER

[Disclaimer, there are no underage people in this story.]

DAY(s) 0 Monday-Wednesday:

On a mildly sunny day in the west midlands, a short black guy was walking out of the Lerrton train station. My boyfriend Mark, who was in the car next to me pointed him out then went to go say hi. I looked up at the driver side mirror to check my makeup before leaving the vehicle myself. By the time I was out on the pavement, the men were slapping each other on the back and laughing in hearty comradery about old inside jokes and mutual acquaintances. “Well here he is, Abraham!” My boyfriend announced as I approached, a boyish grin spread across his face. I said hi politely and tried to make small talk as we walked back to the car, beginning Abraham’s week-long stay.

Abraham had come up to Lerrton from London, the hometown he’d shared with Mark. I was told, as I drove the fellas to my bungalow, that Abraham would be attending the local university and that he wanted a chance to be shown around town before he officially enrolled. This was mostly all divulged by Mark with the somewhat shy Abraham only chiming in to provide assent or answer Mark’s deluge of questions about the folks back home.

We spent the rest of the day just hanging out and watching tv, but eventually I got bored and after about twenty minutes of cajoling and arm-twisting, I finally managed to get the guys off their butt’s. Most of my persuasive powers were focused squarely on my boyfriend. Mark dragged his feet and argued as best he could, but eventually – as usual – he couldn’t resist the pleading of a pretty girl. Abraham however was putty in my hands from the start, sitting on the sidelines until I turned to him directly. It didn’t take much argument – just a stern look – before I had him blushing and nodding.

The rest of the evening was spent walking around town, doing some light shopping and sight seeing. By the time the three of us pulled into a restaurant for diner, it was pretty clear that Abraham had a crush on me. He was pretty demure, not the type to try and out-macho my boyfriend or anything, but there was something in his longing gazes and his bashful smile that gave it away. Super cute. The week progressed in much the same way; I’d pull the boys here and there, put up with Mark’s laziness and let Abraham day dream about whether or not he had a chance with me without explicitly egging him on, but things changed one night.

We’d just come back from somewhere and – for the hell of it – decided to have a little fun. The three of us sat around in the living room – me and Abraham on the floor and Mark reclined over the sofa – passing around a bottle of wine and bitching loudly at the 2D people on the tv who could neither hear nor respond to our clumsy attempts at insults.

I was wearing a mid-thigh length tartan skirt and Abraham could not keep his eyes off it. I’d noticed the way he was looking at me all day, but now that the alcohol was flowing, he wasn’t making any attempt to hide it. I think even Mark started to notice half way through our third bottle.

“You know this woman reminds me of someone” Mark said referring to one of the actresses. “I… can’t put my finger on it.”

“Is it someone we know?” I asked, refilling my wine glass.

“No, I think it’s someone from back home…” Mark said slowly with a finger scratching at his clean shaven chin. A few moments later he clicked loudly before breaking into a hysterical laugh. After I asked what was going on, he turned to Abraham – who’d not really been paying attention to us – leered at him then laughed again. Abraham started to look a little nervous despite his confusion.

“You don’t see it?” my boyfriend chided. Abraham looked back at the screen then again at Mark a few times. A supplicating smile came over Abrahams face and he shrugged. “It looks like JANE!” My boyfriend practical yelled the name before returning to his hysterical laughter. I was curious now, so turned to Abraham – who now had an extremely sour look on his face.

“You don’t have to bring her up Mark.” Abraham said weakly.

“Wait, no, I want to know, who’s Jane?”

“…Nobody Tiffany, don’t worry about it.” Abraham said quietly, which caused another round of laughter from my boyfriend. He took another drink of his wine before filling me in. Jane was apparently some sixthform sweet heart that Abraham failed miserably to charm. The story was apparently several months long, riddled with embarrassing anecdotes and culminated in a pissed off Jane declaring emphatically, through snap chat, that Abraham was going to die a virgin.

I’m sure if Abraham had been Caucasian, his whole face would have turned red at that point. He had the twitchy look of a pissed off cat ready to scratch. “You’re still a virgin?” I asked. The words tumbled out of my mouth without any thought concern for tact. When Abraham heard the question he looked at me then looked down at his feet before nodding solemnly. My boyfriend filled the house with another round of bursa escort hysterical laughter.

DAY 1 Thursday:

Most of the time, my life isn’t that hard. But, sometimes, I can get so caught up in the tangled web of my own emotions that I make things very hard for myself. This seemed to be one of those times. I’d been sitting around on my friend’s sofa all morning just watching garbage TV and getting sweat all over my pyjamas. In all that time, no matter what was happening on screen, my thoughts were constantly being drawn to my friend’s girlfriend. Tiffany was amazing – a bombshell blonde with a pretty, oval face framed nicely by a canopy of playful curls. Her body was soft and sensual, with heavy tits and a large round butt that never failed to grab my attention. The big problem of course was that she wasn’t single… though, to be quite honest, I doubt she’d show me much attention even if she were. I was short – shorter than her – with a bit of a gut and no real social skills so, for now, it felt like there was naught to do but wallow and lament and leap headfirst into resignation.

“Have you been there all day?” It was Tiffany, I hadn’t heard her come in. She walked past me to the kitchen and began putting away a handful of groceries she’d bought before falling like a sack of bricks into a recliner. I tried not to look at her, not for any particular reason just some subconscious understanding that if I started to look at those creamy legs or her pretty face or the gorgeous curve of her cleavage, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

“What’s this?” Said the vaguely yellow and green shape smooshed into my peripheral vision.

“Homes Under the Hammer.”

“You watch that? Ew, you’re like my grandad.” She said playfully. Tiffany started telling me about her day and at some point, I made the mistake of looking at her directly. She was beautiful – as always – the kind of beautiful that seems effortless and innate. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing a soft, green midi-skirt with a string of large wooden buttons running up the middle. It was flowy and light and poured lazily into the gap between her legs, drawing my eye to her plump rounded thighs. draped over her large breasts was a baggy, bee-striped top with a wide neck line and tapered sleeves. I couldn’t help but stare like a hungry puppy as Tiffany spoke – a flash of delight dancing through my features every time a wave of an arm or a turn of her shoulder made her breasts sway, vividly pronouncing their shape in defiance of the baggy confines.

We kept talking like this for a while. I heard about Tiffany’s assignments and friends and all sorts, but the whole time I was finding it hard t concentrate and Tiffany didn’t make things any easier; occasionally, she’d stretch her arms, displaying her tits in all their glory or make some thinly vailed innuendo punctuated by a sly wink. This was all lightweight compared to what happened next:

“-And he just couldn’t keep his eyes off me, for – like – the whole lecture,” Tiffany said, enthusiastically telling me about a class mate who seemed to be in a comparable situation to me, “every time I’d turn my head, there he would be trying to act all sneaky. Girls know you-know! We can tell when a guy’s acting sus, it doesn’t take a genius! But, I mean… it’s understandable I suppose, I mean look at me – I’m freaking hot – but hey it’s not my fault I have huge tits is it! I mean this shirt isn’t even meant to be all that tight but – like – you can still tell can’t you.” She added, giving her chest another glorifying shake that surely had my eyes bouncing along. Now Tiffany stood up and started fussing over her clothes as though she were trying to see her self from different points of view.

“…I mean, I guess if I were a guy, I wouldn’t be able to look away,” she said slowly and quietly before doing a little spin that made her skirt swish through the air. She paused for a second, seemingly to think before walking over and collapsing right next to me on the sofa, close enough for our thighs to touch and for me to feel the heat of her body. “That guy checking me out wasn’t even the worst part,” she began, looking me right in the eyes. “The worst part is that if I wasn’t dating Mark, I might have actually let him do something.” I swallowed hard and audibly “I am SO unbelievably horny these days, you wouldn’t believe it! I mean, we’ve had you in the house and elsewise Mark’s been at work – it’s like, am I supposed to survive off dildos all day.” Tiffany proceeded to explain, in brilliant detail, the depths of her sexual desire – the abstract need that would burrow into her, always summoned by a touch, an errant gaze, a sound or smell which melted it’s message into her body. Arousal would spread in waves through her, urging Tiffany to be careless or ‘naughty’ and forget her boyfriend even existed.

It was an engaging story to say the least and I didn’t quite now what to do after Tiffany was done. All the blood that would have gone to my brain, was syphoned bursa escort bayan off to meet the needs of my now-ridged cock. That same desire Tiffany had been talking about was now bubbling up inside me, slowly burning away at my respect for Mark and goading me on to do something very rash.

“It’s hard, ‘cos I’ll be in class or on the bus or whatever and I’ll just see this cute guy and it’ll become apparent all at once just how little sex I’ve actually had in the last couple of days, like ‘HELLO what’s a girl got to do to get bent over something!” Tiffany said, playing with a strand of hair that’d gotten loose from her bun. I rose suddenly. I could feel myself slipping. I made some lame excuse then marched quickly back up to the guestroom. Before I left, I turned to look back at Tiffany. She was watching me go and beamed pleasantly when I turned back. Her smile was airy and sunny, but in her eyes there was something else… disappointment?

Day 2 Friday:

The following day, Tiffany and I were relaxing together for most of the morning. She only had lectures in the afternoon, so the two of us spent that mildly warm AM just chatting on the sofa. Problems arose and I’m sure you can guess what type. Tiffany had come down to the living room wearing only what she’d worn to bed. A silk camisole and matching pyjama-shorts were all that stood between me and her voluptuous curves. Of course I had a hard time keeping my appreciation to myself, but I managed it well enough at first. That is, until Tiffany started to reintroduce the topic from yesterday.

She sighed heavily and started to fiddle with the white drawstring of her shorts before speaking. “Abe, I know you’re – like – a virgin and everything, but try to help me out: If you were my boyfriend could you pass up on fucking me?” I had come down this morning with the vague fear that we’d return to this subject, but still the question took me by surprise. Before waiting for me to speak, Tiffany rose up off of the sofa and started to straighten out her ‘clothes’. Like a vulture with the self control of a teenager, I zeroed in on the small peaks of her nipples, which asserted their prominence against the sheer fabric.

“you’re not answering my question Abe?” I stuttered in response – not really knowing what to say. Was she really doing this again? How oblivious could one girl be – I mean, I’m a man too God damn it! You can’t just go around acting like…. acting like a slut and expect me not to get all hot and bothered.

“Well, I’m just going to take your silence for a ‘yes'” Tiffany said “Obviously, I’m a girl and I’m straight [wink] but hell, I know what men want: the curves, the tight clothes, the long hair, I have all that in spades so tell me, why won’t Mark make a move on me, it’s all ‘nah I’m tired’ and ‘babe tomorrow, I promise’. Like – I don’t even need to get fucked, but we’ve got to do SOMETHING to tide me over, ‘cos I can’t stand it…” Tiffany’s diatribe trailed off mid-sentence and she looked at me with a slightly shocked expression. I suddenly became very cognizant of my body, the way I was sitting, the wolfish look on my face, and the newly emerged tent in my pyjama trousers. It was extrusive and throbbing and impossible to hide. Embarrassment began to writhe in my gut like a group of eels and I immediately started apologizing profusely, my words tripping over themselves as I panicked to explain myself in a way that didn’t make me seem like a perv.

Tiffany listened while I retched my atonement before laughing her ass off. I was in the middle of stuttering something about how ‘it’s a natural process that’s beyond my control’ when she lost it. She began cackling loudly, keeling at the waist and slapping her thigh like an old farmer. Relief replaced embarrassment and I started to laugh along with her.

We were now both sitting on the sofa, coming down from our revelry when another change came over Tiffany. She turned to look at me, the salty remains of tears at corners of her eyes, then spoke in a very low, very warm voice: “You know Abe, I feel like doing something. It might be a bit weird but don’t freak out all right.” Before she’d even finished speaking, Tiffany’s soft fingers had crept across the sofa and were now busy untying the drawstring of my pyjama trousers. I didn’t speak or move. Realisation hit me like a chest high wave and left me stunned. “I’m all about mutual aid Abe, I get to fix my problem by fixing yours,” Tiffany said. Her voice was a mile away, but I saw the wink and it made me smile. In a few seconds – maybe 4 – her pearl-white fingers encased my engorged prick. She began stroking me, up and down. The flesh of her palm was soft and warm and slightly sweaty – or maybe that moisture was mine, or mine and hers swirling together to form a new solution.

The sensation of having another person touch me was odd in it’s newness. I’d never even managed a first kiss before that day, but here I was being driven to climax by the delicate ministrations of my mate’s girlfriend. She was good escort bursa at it to, chasing down my pleasure in a way that seemed psychic. She read my mind through my moans and spasms with as much clarity as if I were speaking and at just the right moment, Tiffany went in for the kill. She brought her hand to the base of my cock then tilted her body, using her other hand for leverage against the sofa. I watched, breathlessly, as her lips descended on my cock.

Tiffany began kissing my the head. They were quick pecks, teasing at more pleasure to come, riling me up like a bellows to flame. Then, she moved down to my shaft and, with a thick coating of saliva began to lick my penis in long wet strokes. She brought her tongue just beneath my head, then ran that pink needle beneath and around my glans sending bolts of pleasure up my spine. It felt great but, with the finish line in sight, I started to grow restless. Of course Tiffany sensed this. She looked up at my face and our eyes met. She smiled sweetly then dove on my rod letting it penetrate into the velvety confines of her lips. I moaned loudly and shuddered all over, but Tiffany wasn’t done. The time for passivity and teasing was over and now, with hunger in her eyes and in her movements, she dragged me to the peak of my pleasure, bobbing her head up and down and – with her hand now soaked from saliva and precum – jerking my cock along it’s base. It didn’t take long for me to breakdown, to surrender to the pleasure and erupt in her mouth.

I was gulping for air like a fish – not out of breath just bewildered. My whole body had become lax and sank deeper into the plush fabric of the sofa. Tiffany rose majestically, her eyes shining with excitement. She was moved her lips as though she was about to say something but then a look of realization came over her face. She turned to look at a clock on the walk then sighed. I realized it was already 12 and she had a lecture in half an hour. She smiled at me again then made the shush gesture before walking off to her bedroom. fifteen minutes later, she’d showered, dressed and left for Uni while I was still coming down.

Day 3 Saturday:

‘Tiffany had made me cum.’ I couldn’t believe it, all night yesterday and this morning, that phrase replayed on an endless loop in my mind. ‘Tiffany had made me cum.’ As I tossed and turned in the guest bedroom that night, fabricated images began to fly through my head; salacious scenes of me and Tiffany doing all sorts to each other, for each other, to ourselves while the other watched – I swear, I could still smell her on me and feel her caress as I drifted off to sleep. That morning however , there was nothing. The thread pulling me and Tiffany together had grown slack. She didn’t show any interest in me. After the events of yesterday, I was in a rush to get something going again, but it felt like she was avoiding me, every chance she got. Suddenly it was night and I was in my room alone, watching anime like nothing had ever happened. The noise of Tiffany and Mark laughing their asses off to something on TV filled the house and had me gritting my teeth.

“I figured you were hiding out in here.” I flinched at the sound of Tiffany’s voice. She’d come up to the guestroom without me even noticing.

Tiffany repeated herself and I found that I couldn’t answer. She was putting me on the spot and the fact of seeing her here in front of me, in nothing but a pair of tight jean shorts and a hoody, after hours of avoidance had me conflicted. I only blinked at her like I wasn’t sure if she was really there. Tiffany came closer, dropping a small handbag she’d been carrying on the floor as she went. In a loud whisper Tiffany started talking about the show she was watching with Mark and what she’d been doing all day and stuff like that – normal conversational topics – but I wasn’t hearing it. It felt like my body had a mind of it’s own and desires that were beyond my ability to suppress. Focusing on her words in a plutonic way was a chore, but going without popping a boner was damn near impossible. I wasn’t even thinking of any particularly sexual, but I guess my body knew what it wanted. A tent began to form in my pyjama bottoms, much like yesterday, and again Tiffany took notice. She smiled in a very motherly way then said something that got my blood boiling: “You might be good at hiding away, but your cock at least seems to know what it wants.”

THIS BITCH. I started talking in a hushed yet hurried tone, my anger and shame bubbling just beneath the surface. Was I the one who’d been ignoring her all day? Was I the one who’d started this whole thing in the first place and now seemed to be ignoring it? Was I the one who was hanging out with Mark when she should have been with me!

I was beginning to yell now, the anger breaching my veneer of shy calm – goaded on further by Tiffany’s unshakable composure. I got up and kept at it, making a complete fool of myself. She wasn’t my girlfriend, yesterday never SHOULD have happened so why was I so hung up on this one girl I’d only known for 5 days? These questions did go through my mind, but I was already in to do deep to stop myself. My emotions were white hot and one way or another, I was going to pour them all over Tiffany.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32