Torrid game

This is a sequel to Taste.

“Open your legs,” he told her.

She was relaxing on a cushioned lawn chair in the sunshine, feeling warm and relaxed. Her beverage was sitting on the side table next to her.

It was quiet in his backyard. There was no one around making noise or causing distractions.

She stared at him.

“Just like that?” she asked. He was sitting opposite her, watching her face.


His response was short, and clear. He expected her to submit.

She hesitated. But not for long. She knew what he was like, and half expected her visit to progress in this direction.

After a short, internal debate, she decided to comply.

She opened her legs as requested and let the hem of her short dress rise and span across her upper thighs.

From where he was sitting, she was sure he could see her panties. The thin, lavender ones she chose for their get-together today, knowing that color would eventually display a damp spot prominently.

She followed his eyes as he scanned her body, lingering over all the usual parts.

Finally, he reached his prize. His stare penetrated her core between her parted legs.

Watching his face, she waited for further instructions.

Nothing happened.

After a while, he leaned forward and folded his hands between his own legs.

His silent demeanor was excruciating.

Is he going to touch me, she wondered.

She tried to sort out her emotions. Which one was the dominant one? The arousal or the panic?

But his hands remained folded and immobile. When he spoke, he met her eyes.

“Touch yourself.”

A slight smile escaped her lips. She recalled a similar command during a brief conversation they had while chatting one time. They simulated the same sort of exercise, only at that time they couldn’t see each other. They could only read each other.

This is different, she speculated. More personal. He’s right there…

She willed herself to obey him. Could she masturbate in front of someone? In front of him? In person, instead of in front of a screen?

Glancing around her once again, she assured herself there was no audience. No nosy neighbors or impromptu visitors interrupting their torrid little game.

She began by staring at him, ensuring she had his full attention.

Gingerly, she placed her hand on her naked thigh, just below the hem of her dress. Watching him closely, she moved her fingers slowly up and down her sun-warmed skin, inching a little closer toward her junction each time.

His face remained stoic but she thought she saw a twitch, or maybe a small glint in his eyes.

His restrained reaction to her playfulness pleased her. Especially the telltale signs in his crotch area. It seemed the bulge in his jeans appeared a little fuller…

Her hand, suddenly curious and confident, stroked the lavender-colored fabric spanned across her pussy lips, sliding her fingers up and down along the indentation of her slit.

His eyes never left her center, probing into her with intensity and lust.

Should she dare and dip further into her folds, she questioned herself uselessly, knowing that is exactly what was expected of her.

She continued to watch him watch her.

He shifted in his chair. It enticed her to witness his discomfort, which propelled her to continue tormenting him.

Men are so easy, she thought as she slid her fingers around the side of her panties and dipped into her moisture.

Biting her lip, she arched her back slightly, and pushed her middle finger deeper into herself.

This time, he reacted more openly. She thought she even heard him make a noise. He moved forward on his chair, bringing his body closer to hers. He clearly wanted to participate, take part in the action, but still refrained from touching her.

She took pleasure in torturing him this way.

This is his own fault, she smiled to herself. He’s the one who told me to do it…

As she slid her finger into her pussy she listened to the squishy sounds of her lips. Her panties were in the way, which made it a bit cumbersome, but she wasn’t told to strip them off. Not yet, anyway. Maybe that part was still coming.

She wasn’t sure how far he wanted her to go, but realized that touching herself like this, with him watching her, was deeply erotic. Maybe she could invite him to play a little…

“Fuck,” she heard him grunt under his breath.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand out of her panties. Looking directly at him, she waited for his next command.

“Taste yourself,” he urged her while staring at her wet finger.

She remembered how it went last time he expected her to lick herself. She had done it, tentatively, wondering if this was going to be a thing if they evolved their relationship. That time had felt more private, since he couldn’t see her. They were texting, not videoing each other.

But this time, he was actually watching her do it.

She felt shy, and acutely aroused. Still looking up at him, she decided to change the rules a bit.

“You do it,” she told him smugly and held out her hand, not sure how we was going to react. Would she bemoan her attempt at their role reversal later?

She watched him glare at her. It made her smile, and worry simultaneously.

“I will – later,” he responded. “From the source. Now, suck your finger.”

9 thoughts on “Torrid game

  1. Pingback: Taste | Cassandra

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