Touch Me: Erotica Book 1 (The Virgin to Vixen Series) Page 2

  “If you’re scared, you can leave the club. I won’t stop you.”

  Yes, I was scared, but in a good way. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted him to kiss me and touch me. I just wasn’t ready for him to do more than that. How could I convey that to him without sounding like a blabbering idiot?

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “‘Yes.” I was shocked at my immediate response. But, I did trust him. If he wanted to hurt me, I assumed that he would have done it already.

  “You said you’ve never been touched. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “The basic act of being touched can be sensual, erotic and pleasurable. Or, it can feel wrong and unnatural. So many people take touching for granted. Most people in this room understand the art of touching, yet more importantly, they understand how to release themselves to be touched.”

  I listened closely to every word that slipped softly from his mouth. With each word, my inner ear felt as though it was being caressed by the melody of the greatest love song, his voice. I felt as though I was in a trance. Something had replaced the fear that I had felt with the desire to understand what he was saying to me. At that moment, I let him become my teacher while I became his student. This was a mutual understanding just at the moment when I said, “Show me.”

  Although he didn’t say he was going to walk away from me, I knew it the moment that he did. I felt an instant chill on my back from the disappearance of his warmth. I felt the sudden deprivation of his presence. I didn’t turn around. I felt the tears well up in my eyes. What had I said to make him walk away? What had I done to scare off a sensual man who had wanted to touch me?

  I leaned my head against the wall and listened to the moaning sounds on the other side of a hundred people being touched, seduced, fulfilled. I was not ready to join that group and my mysterious gentleman seemed to have left. I removed my hand from my panties and decided to just go home and face the music at having stomped out of the house during a conflict with my parents. Apparently, I was not a desirable human being for anyone. I thought I had found something unique here, but the man had fled. When I had made up my mind to leave, and began to think about finding my way back to the security door, I heard his voice behind me again. More tears welled up in my eyes from an overwhelming amount of joy to hear my sexy stranger’s voice vibrate against my inner ear once again.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  “Yessss,” I replied. “I’m so glad you came back.”

  “Yes, I can see that you are. If you want me to ‘show you,’ then you have to agree to do whatever I tell you.”

  I paused. “I will.”

  “Don’t question me. Don’t ever think I’ll hurt you, because I won’t.”

  “I know you won’t,” I whispered.

  “How do you know I won’t hurt you? Why do you believe this?”

  “I just do. It’s a feeling when you are near, that I am safe.”

  “Good girl, you’re using your senses already.”

  He reached up and put a silk cloth over my eyes. I flinched at first and felt my heart go into overload, but I had to trust him. I wanted to trust him. I also wanted to question him.

  “Why do I need a blindfold?” I asked, more curious than afraid.

  He removed the blindfold from my face and whispered, “We’re done.”

  “Why?” my voice shrieked. “I just asked you a question.”

  “Because, you, little one, cannot follow directions.”

  “I can!” I turned my head to the side to whisper back at him. “I promise. I can. Please continue.”

  He continued to put the blindfold over my eyes, so that I could not see anything. I was reduced to relying on my other senses, and my trust in him increased as I made myself more vulnerable to him. An odd tingling welled up between my legs. It felt like the same tingling sensation that I’d experienced since I was sixteen years old. It was an odd desire that I never acted upon. Oh, there were times that I wanted to see what would happen if I touched myself, but I refrained because of my mother’s words that were driven into me from the age of five. Sex was sinful. Sex was wrong.

  “What do you feel?” he asked.

  “Safe. I feel safe with you. Excited, too.”

  “Good girl. I just want to let you know that I will not have sex with you.” He said it smoothly, decisively. My mysterious stranger said he was going to teach me how to open myself to more than just sex—more than the act of sexual intercourse. He was going to teach me to release my mind and allow myself to experience more than I would have otherwise.

  I wondered if he had taught a lot of women how to find extreme pleasure in a simple touch. Were all those naked people in the room students of his? Who was he? What did he look like? Was he attractive or ugly? I wanted to know, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to know. His voice, smell and touch allowed me to use my imagination, to conjure up the man I wanted him to be. I was afraid to turn around and crush the rapport that we already had. It was strange to feel connected to someone whose face I had not even seen.

  In my mind, I saw him with dark, collar-length wavy hair and a strong, square jaw with a mouth that was sexy enough to drink. I pictured him in tight jeans with a white button-down shirt that was half open. Maybe he wasn’t any of those things, but tonight, he was all of those things to me.

  Once the blindfold was secure, he reached his fingers around to the front of my neck and ran his thumbs under my long brown hair. He swept it off my neck and draped it down my back. I trembled at how that nearly brought me to my knees, that feeling that another human being was touching me. In my house, we did not even hug. Everything was dark, which made my other senses stronger, sharper. I could suddenly hear his steady breathing.

  When I heard his moist lips part before they softly kissed the side of my neck, I heard myself swallow. In one hand, he held my hair away from my neck, while his lips pressed just below my earlobe then down as far as the skin on my neck was exposed. His mouth left behind the trail of his tongue. Each time his breath exited his nose, I felt that wet area get colder.

  I felt my nipples pucker under the intense feeling of this stranger’s mouth on my neck. My breasts swelled while my nipples poked at my bra. A slight moan left my lips. I inhaled from shock at my verbal, public display of passion. I wanted more. My panties were wetter than they had ever been. I needed him to do more. He read my mind.

  “Clear your mind, and allow your body to take me in. Don’t think of anything but my touch, my desire for your tight, beautiful body. I need you as much as you need me.” His warm breath settled in my ear.

  I trembled. He pressed his hard cock against my ass as his left hand traveled from the middle of my thigh to the inside of my thigh. His fingers rubbed my bare skin where the cusp of my panties met my bare leg. He was teasing me beyond anything I could handle with tender fingers that caressed as if I was cherished, precious, desired. Unable to hold back, I let out a loud moan.

  He turned me around. I couldn’t see him through the blindfold, but I could feel his body inches from mine. I could feel his mouth move from my cheek to my lips. His mouth was warm and soft. His tongue was hot and wet. His tongue circled mine. His lips suddenly devoured mine as he began to unleash his passion. His fingers slid each button of my blouse out of their buttonholes. His mouth was distracting my mind from his hands that attacked my shirt. I felt the brisk air touch my skin when my blouse opened and dropped to the floor. The air conditioning must have been maxxed out in the club to keep all of the people cool. Tonight, I wasn’t wearing a bra, which made my stranger’s job easier and faster.

  I knew that my firm breasts and puckered nipples were fully exposed. I reached up to cover my body, caving to a lifetime of forced modesty.

  His deep voice scared me. “Put down your hands now. Don’t you ever conceal yourself while you’re being pleasured. That is a direct insult to the person who is pleasuring you. And moving your hands in front of you tells me that your mind is not entir
ely free.”

  He sounded serious. I swallowed against a mixture of fear and desire. He seemed to be one step ahead of me and knew exactly what to say and how to make my panties even wetter than they were. I could feel his eyes devouring me in the dim lighting of the room. He had stopped touching me, so I could only assume he was staring at my semi-nude body. I kept my hands down; I closed my eyes behind the blindfold and let out a sigh of relief. I let the endless questions release from my mind. No longer was I wondering: What does he think? Do I disgust him? Does he still want me?

  I allowed myself to enjoy his prying eyes. I took deep breaths and enabled myself to accept my body, my breasts and this moment in a stranger’s nonphysical embrace. I gave into the sensations of his touch and his confidence. He must have seen when I let myself relax because, once I physically did that, he ran his hand from the side of my face, down my neck and over my small but firm mounds. It felt like a delicious reward for obeying his request not to cover myself. My nipple bent against the palm of his hand. His fingers trailed under my breasts to my stomach and then his mouth kissed the mound around my areola.

  I moaned at the sensation, which shot bolts of electricity from the tips of my nipples to my clitoris. I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. I let my head fall back as I arched my back. My shoulders leaned up against the wall behind me, and I exhaled deeply.

  “My sweet, innocent virgin wants more. Don’t you, gorgeous?”

  I nodded, with my top teeth biting down on my bottom lip. “Yes, I do.” He was partially right. I did want more, but at that moment, I needed it more than I wanted it. My pussy was aching to be touched. My panties were drenched with my juices, and my legs were trembling.

  I could feel his breath on my nipple as his mouth neared and I arched my back to raise my breasts for his lips. His mouth came down hard around my areola, and his tongue began to flick at one of my swollen nipples. He moved from one breast to the other, being careful not to neglect one over the other.

  I was nearly panting with the sensations of my breasts being tenderly devoured. The sensation was sublime.

  While his mouth was on my breasts, his large hands cupped my round, tight ass under my skirt while his fingers rubbed at the crease of my thighs and my quivering pussy.

  “Touch me, please. Touch me, now,” I whispered beneath the sheer agony of needing to feel his touch. He knew I was struggling. He didn’t care.

  He released his mouth from my breasts, removed his hands from my inner thighs and said sternly, “Don’t beg. If you’re begging, it means you are not enjoying. It means your mind is moving beyond the moment with one goal, and that’s to skip ahead. I want you to savor every single sense that I bring to you. I want you to know my smell, know my taste, know my voice fluctuations and know my hands. I want you to know my touch.”

  Again, he was one step ahead of me. I was trying to move him along. I was trying to get him to bring me to this climax that I’d heard so much about. I wanted him to rush forward and touch my pink bud that hid behind the cotton of my panties. While I thought of rushing him to the orgasm, I wasn’t paying attention to the pleasure that he was bringing me in the touch that he was giving me at that moment.

  “Please. I must know. What is your name?” I barely whispered.

  “My name is not important.”

  I was standing topless in front of this stranger, while he refused to tell me his name. I suddenly felt a tinge of anger and vulnerability. I wanted to rip off the blindfold, grab my shirt and run for the exit sign. I did want to do that . . . but I didn’t run away from the sensuality that he brought forth from my body. He had the upper hand, and he knew it.

  “What should I call you then?” I asked.

  “Call me ‘sir’ or ‘master,’ if you wish to call me anything.”

  I was utterly shocked. “I most definitely will not!” I replied.

  “Then don’t worry about a name.”

  ***

  He grabbed my hand and carefully walked me, still blindfolded, to another part of the room. Then he unbuttoned and unzipped my skirt and slid it down over my legs. I didn’t protest. This is what I wanted. This is what I needed. But I admit that when my skirt came down, I was scared. I froze and waited for what he would do.

  His fingers went into the waistband of my white cotton panties. He slid my panties down to the bottom of my feet. “Step out of these,” he ordered. I was now stark nude and blindfolded in the back of a club on the other side of a wall where everyone was nude and enjoying each other, and rather noisily at that, even above the sensual music. I was aroused beyond any point that I could imagine.

  I felt his hand leave my body. “Don’t go!” I cried softly.

  “Don’t move. I’m just going to put down a sheet. Then, I’m going to lay you down.’

  I stood perfectly still, blindfolded and nude with my nipples hard and my pussy wet and dripping moisture down my inner thighs. Where did he think I was going to go? I inwardly smiled at that last thought. When he laid me down, he whispered in my ear, “You’re so beautiful.”

  I was ready for him to touch me further, but I was not about to rush him. I decided to stay in the moment, to listen to the sounds that he made, smell his breath as it lingered near my face. The smell of his breath was replaced by the smell of something sweet that tickled my nose. He had placed a flower up to my nose and gave me enough time to recognize what it was.

  Then I felt that flower touch my lips, slide over my neck and circle around each nipple. The petals on the flower caressed the skin of my stomach and played in the hair that covered my nest. Suddenly, I felt his hand spread my legs apart. I resisted for a mere second until I gave him back full control. I had feared that he sensed my resistance and would walk away from me. Instead, his tongue ran from the inside of my knee to my swollen clit.

  At first, I felt him place warm, wet kisses over my entire pink flower. I felt his moans vibrate against my skin. I let out a yelp that sounded awkward. No one had ever touched me there, let alone kiss me in such a private place. It was more of a surprised cry than a protest, and he did not chastise me for the yelp.

  And then my stranger took his fingers and spread apart my pussy lips to expose my swollen, pink knob to his prying eyes and salivating mouth. At this point, I was glad to be blindfolded because I could not have faced anyone who was doing that to me. His tongue swept the right side between my right lip and my clit. Then he circled over the top of my clit and slid his wet tongue down the left side. My hands flew to my mouth to cover the screams that I was fighting to keep within me.

  I knew he would say something about that before he did, but simultaneously, I threw my hands off my mouth and put them to my side when he said, “Remove your hands or I will tie them down.”

  Once again, he was right. I was trying to hinder my expression of desire which was pulling me from the moment. He owned me. He had complete control over my mind and body at that moment.

  His mouth plunged back in between my lips. This time he covered my clit with his mouth and used his wild tongue to flick at my budding flower. I screamed. I released a howl that I had never heard before. It sounded like a dying animal, but I didn’t care. I released it out loud and fierce. Nothing had ever felt so intimate, not in my entire life.

  My hands flew to the top of his head. My fingers laced between his thick, wavy hair. I pulled him closer, if that was even possible. I heard him whisper over my clit, “Good girl, accept my touch, accept my mouth, accept my desire.”

  I was in the moment, and so was he. His mouth circled my sensitive clit repetitiously. When I felt a welling in my stomach, and I was about to burst, his mouth released that tender area between my thick, soft pussy lips and his tongue found my hole. He lapped at the juices that ran down to my ass and puddled on the sheet below my butt.

  He tried to catch it all. He wanted to drink it all. He was in the moment in the same way I was and that alone was sending me over the edge. My hands reached up and squeezed my own ni
pples. My back was arched in an attempt to shove my precious blossom full of nectar back into his mouth.

  He took me again with his mouth. His wet, soft lips covered my clit. His tongue flicked it like his tongue was a boxer and my clit was the bag. His hands gripped my thighs and pushed my legs further apart. When I thought I was fully spread, it still wasn’t enough for him. He spread me further. Then, he pushed his face further between my legs.

  I could feel his lips up and over the top of my pussy lips. His tongue continued to work its magic on my, now ready-to-burst clit. My hands were pulling at his hair and then I felt the strangest feeling in my pelvic area. I felt a pleasure that kept building and building, similar to a balloon that is being filled with air. At some point, I know it was going to explode.

  That’s exactly what I did. Suddenly, I exploded into tremors and convulsions. My body started to gyrate on its own. I couldn’t control my body, and I couldn’t control the intensely odd noises that had escaped from my mouth. His tongue kept going and I kept screaming out in sheer pleasure and ecstasy.

  He did not let up. It seemed to last an hour. It was fierce and mind-boggling. It was so powerful that when it stopped, it hadn’t truly stopped. I was experiencing earthquake aftershocks that were at least a 5.5 on the Richter scale.

  After he finally stopped his sensual assault with his tongue, my body was exhausted, limp. My mind was a thoughtless piece of mush. My hands unraveled from his hair and dropped to my sides. His mouth stayed locked between my legs while he licked up my juices and kissed gently against my swollen clit.

  He wouldn’t move. He didn’t leave the area between my legs. I could hear him smelling deep, taking in my scents. His lips softly kissed and then alternated with his tongue to lick everything between my legs. At one point, he even ran his tongue down to my asshole and settled there for a minute while his nose was buried just a bit inside my hole.

  I was tired, or perhaps languid was the word. I was floating. I had never experienced anything as pleasurable as that first orgasm. I needed rest. I knew better than to push him away or let him know that I was ready to close my legs. He wouldn’t allow me to do that. I would be scolded for not allowing every moment to consume me.