Closer
Closer
For Judith
July 15, 2024
I sat on the bureau with my skirt hiked and my legs wide. I was giving him a show, hoping to excite him into action. I didn’t want him to call my bluff, but I did want him close, but not too close. My best friend was there egging the two of us on, daring us to see who would blink first.
He had his pants off. I had my thong pulled to the side. He was embarrassed. I was taunting him. By the looks of the pitch, he had the goods. I began cupping my breasts to see how much he actually had. My friend walked up behind him to whisper in his ear.
Then to push him forward.
I moaned as he approached. I ran my finger where it would do the most when he looked there. He looked at her and received the nod he was looking for.
He dropped his boxers and stood there naked.
I stopped rubbing myself. My friend kept egging him on. He saw the fear on my face and took another step forward.
He was now touching my thighs, preventing their closure, and not caring about my concerns.
My friend wanted a show. He wanted to star. I wanted to stop this. But I couldn’t. But I didn’t. I wanted to win, proving him not up to the task. By the sheer volume of diverted blood flow, he was up to the task.
My friend told him to get closer.
I replied, “If he gets any closer, he will be inside of me.”
He only heard the last part of my sentence.
He heard it as an order.
He took that last step.
He got closer.