Category: teasing

Mini Skirt At The Party

I’ve eyed you across the room for awhile now. That short mini skirt first caught my attention and then I looked down at those long, smooth, sexy legs. I felt my cock jump at first sight of them. I glance at your legs crossing and uncrossing every few minutes and it gives me a brief view of your green thong.

Our eyes meet when you catch me staring at your long legs and the treasure that is between them. You gave me a smile and a little wink. I could see the devilish twinkle in your eye and I felt my bulge grow even larger. I was ready for anything except this… You stood up and walked across the room taking my hand and leading me to one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Once in the room you closed and locked the door and wrapped your arms around my neck and kissed me deeply, swirling your tongue inside my mouth and wrestling with my own tongue. You grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it up over my head and tossed it in a heap to the floor. You gently raked your nails across my muscular chest and ripped abs. I slowly unbuttoned your silky smooth blouse and slid it off your arms that were busy unbuttoning my jeans. I gazed at your bra-covered tits and yearned to suck on their nipples. I fumbled for a second with the clasp of your bra and finally removed it throwing it to the pile of clothes on the floor.


Highway Masturbation

My husband was away on business yet again. As is normal for us, we text back and forth trying to keep in touch. Silly little texts all morning long about how our days were going, flirting some but keeping it light as we were both pretty busy.

But somewhere around lunchtime his texts become slightly naughty. He had never done this before so it completely caught me off guard. He texted saying he missed me which is nothing new, but went on to type he missed not just me but very specific parts of me, his favorite parts of me. He described those favorite parts in great detail, the way my nipples looked all puckered up with desire, desire he caused with his hands and his mouth. The supple skin that starts on the underside of my breast and continues along my rib cage and how when he traces it with his fingertip it makes me giggle. The back of my knee and the goose bumps that a lick of his tongue can cause. My long fingers and how they softly grace his own skin.

I could not keep my eyes off the screen of the phone as I anticipated every text and they were really starting to heat me up. I only encouraged him by describing how my body was responding to his words; my nipples were stiffening and I could feel them rub against the silky material of my bra. My pussy was starting to pulsate and began moistening my panties. I was chewing on my lower lip.

This only egged him on and made his texts even dirtier. He was becoming more descriptive telling me what he now wanted to do to me. His mouth wanted to take in the hard nubs of my breasts, suck profusely until they were achingly stiff and then tease them with a flick of his tongue. His tongue desired to swirl its wetness in my belly button and then trail southward to warmer more parts. Then he wanted to take my toes in his mouth, savoring them and then softly suck until I was wiggling uncontrollably. I was starting to squirm in my chair with the pictures he was painting in my mind.

About mid afternoon, he texted that he was in a boardroom style meeting and had a raging hard on that was only being controlled by the waistband of his slacks and thankfully concealed by his sweater. He wished he could rub his palm up and down his hard cock a few times and how if we kept up this texting he was going to fly home early so he could pick me up, throw me on the bed and fuck my brains out. I envisioned him at this meeting with his pants tented and giggled.

I proceeded to text back how I wanted to walk right into that boardroom with high heels, skirt taught against my ass and nipples pricking through my blouse and my shoes clicking on hardwood flooring, kneel before him, unzip his pants, grasp his stiff cock, lick the precum then envelope his swollen purple head with my hot wet lips and let him slide down the length of my warm tongue. He could then sit back and watch my head bob up and down in his lap while he felt the pleasurable skill of my mouth on his rigid cock.


Kristine At the Restaurant

“Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

The 18-year-old babysitter’s words echoed in my mind in the next few days at my soulless office, which was lit in a permanent florescent noonday glow. The night after she gave me the blowjob, I paid Kristine for her time babysitting, and told her to go home. As much as I wanted to take her up to my bedroom and have my way with her, I simply couldn’t risk the fact that my son might hear us.

After his mother’s passing Luke had had trouble at school. Not acting out, really, more like the opposite. He withdrew and stayed alone on the playground. A teacher found him sitting in the sandbox where the younger children play, quietly sifting the sand through his hands, staring into the dust it stirred up when it hit the ground.

“It’s like he’s having an existential crisis, and he’s only ten,” Mrs. Lehmann, the school counselor, told me. She didn’t know if this was normal behavior for children who had lost parents. She didn’t have any recommendations, except that I keep an eye on him and try to get him to talk about his feelings, which I did anyway. Her eyes were visibly moist, and when she talked about the teacher finding Luke alone with the sand she even seemed to suppress a sob.

I didn’t know if it was normal for counselors to be unable to control their emotions, and I decided it didn’t matter. I had a hard time myself sometimes.

For this reason and many others, I decided I could not see Kristine again. The moments of lust that we had shared for time that she was stretched across my lap and while she sucked my cock had been a welcome change from the constant drudgery of my life after my wife’s death, which consisted of the gym, office and home. I loved my son and I loved every moment that I was able to spend with him, but I sorely missed my wife’s touch. For the first few months after her passing, I couldn’t be aroused by anything.

I even tried sleeping with a friend of my wife’s who had more or less thrown herself at me during the funeral. She was a quite attractive 40-year-old mother of two who was in great shape from her job teaching bikram yoga. We fucked for almost an hour in a variety of positions until I had to admit to her that I couldn’t feel anything and was never going to cum. She never called me back afterwards, even though she assured me that she understood. I went months without even thinking about sex. Kristine had been the first to change this.

After my decision not to see Kristine anymore, I had to hire a new babysitter. I really disliked the process. Mike, my poker buddy, had recommended Kristine to me because his oldest daughter was a classmate of hers. I couldn’t ask him for another recommendation without telling him about our encounter. I went through the process of placing ads. I knew that I was going to have to explain to Luke at some point why Kristine wasn’t coming back, so I stayed around the house for the next several weeks and did without seeing my friends or any kind of adult contact outside of work.

In the meantime, several calls came from local girls who wanted to babysit. I interviewed three of them, but they all seemed immature. I considered hiring a 19-year-old college student named Katie who seemed responsible enough, but when she mentioned her boyfriend I couldn’t help but flash back to the night I saw Kristine giving head to her friend from school, and so I told her I’d think it over, but I never called her back. I couldn’t risk hiring a slutty sitter for a second time.

Finally, I ran into an older woman from the church we used to go to who offered to sit for Luke anytime that I wanted to go out. She told me that her daughter, recently divorced, was ready to date again. Thinking I should take my mind off of Kristine, I decided to take the woman up on her offer, and to give her daughter a call as well.

Her daughter’s name was Mara, she was 28 years old, and she worked in human resources for a local company but was passionate about writing. I had no idea what this particular combination of qualities would add up to in person.

She was obviously expecting my call, so we moved past the formalities quickly and arranged to meet at a local TGI Fridays. I was afraid my choice of restaurant would insult her writerly pretensions but we both lived nearby and the closest non-chain restaurant was an hour in every direction.

As Friday approached, I was nervous about the date, but not for the normal reasons. I was afraid of disappointing Mara because of my general apathy; I was afraid she would feel like I was using her as a foothold on my way out of my pit of despair.

She was already at the bar when I arrived. I recognized her from the pictures we had exchanged via e-mail. She had dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, and a sympathetic face. Thankfully she was slim, which was by no means something that goes without saying the in Midwestern united states. I was relieved to see her drinking beer, and a Samuel Adams at that, which spoke volumes for our potential future compatibility.

We sat at a booth and ordered an appetizer, an assortment of small bits of food, each of which had lost its individual particularities of appearance and flavor during its trip through the deep fryer. I was relieved to discover that Mara was not a vegan.

After the appetizer, our beers were almost empty. Now was the time to decide whether or not we would have a second drink. Mara had proven herself to be an engaging conversationalist. She had worked for newspapers, had lived abroad, and had taken the job in the HR firm as a way to save money before launching a career as a freelancer. I was pleasantly surprised.

As we asked the waitress for another round, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. Thinking it might be from Mara’s mom who was sitting for Luke, I excused myself quickly and took it out to read it. I was completely unprepared for what it said:

“Hi Mr Richards. So you decided to come see me at my new job? I’ll meet you in the men’s room in 5 min. – Kristine.”


Girls Night Out In Sexy Text Messages

A month ago my wife Kim was invited to a friend’s 40th birthday celebration. Angela planned to have a girly night at a hotel in a nearby town and Kim and four other women were invited.

Kim was uncertain whether to go or not as she’s 49, so she’s about ten years older than the rest of them and she had found that previous social events with this group were a bit noisier than she really liked. Not that they were particularly rowdy, but Kim is rather quiet and conservative and doesn’t normally drink much.

However I told her she ought to go. It would give her a break from the domestic routine and provide a chance to relax and recharge her batteries. I think what swung the balance was when she found that she would be sharing a room with Angela. Although she knew the other women well (they were all involved in the parent teachers association for our local high school) she was definitely much more friendly with Angela than the others.

The plan was for them to check into the hotel early on the Saturday afternoon, spend a bit of time in the spa and pool, and then go out for a meal in the evening.

Kim isn’t vain, but she does like to look nice and she asked my advice about what she should wear on the Saturday evening. They were going to a reasonably smart restaurant, so she had picked out a stylish dress which I thoroughly approved of.

“What do you think about underwear?” she asked, knowing that it’s an area I normally take a keen interest in.

“Well you’ve a choice — sensible or sexy — which do you feel like?”

She said she didn’t know which was best, so I suggested that as she had plenty of room in her case she might as well take both, then she could put on whatever suited her mood in the evening. She nodded in agreement to that and as well as some sensible, comfy underwear she also packed a lacy black bra and pants set, plus some lovely lace-topped hold-ups which I had bought her recently.

Not surprisingly I had a definite preference for the sexy underwear, but funnily enough I felt that Kim would be more likely to wear them if I left the choice to her and didn’t try and tell her what to wear.

I was enjoying helping her pack and the idea of my lovely wife going out in a smart dress and with her best underwear on was distinctly arousing. After we had been married for several years I had rather hesitantly confided in her that I did sometimes fantasize about her having sex with other men.

She was surprised and rather shocked, but fortunately she wasn’t actually upset. I should add that Kim was a virgin when I met her and throughout our nearly thirty years of marriage we have always been faithful to each other. Anyway she said nothing was ever going to happen, but the subject did crop up occasionally in our pillow talk and we seemed to settle on it as an agreeable fantasy.

The fact that Kim found it okay as a fantasy made me hope that one day it might actually be realized. Clearly this night out had the potential for something to happen and that was added to by a few bits of information I knew about some of the other women. I knew that Angela occasionally went out to clubs with Denise who was divorced. Bearing in mind that Kim had told me that Angela and her husband hadn’t had sex for 18 months I found it hard to believe that there weren’t times when things happened on those nights out.

So there was definitely a subtext to this night out and if nothing else I had a pleasant time mentally running through (and picturing!) the possibilities. Nothing was actually said, but I’m sure that Kim had at least an inkling of what I was thinking.

Anyway Kim set off to pick up Angela and one of the other women at lunchtime on the Saturday and as the hotel was only twenty miles away it wasn’t long before I got a text saying they had arrived safely. The next I heard was in the early evening when my phone beeped.

All going well. Hotel is great. Off out for meal soon. Luv u. Kim. xxx

I tapped out a reply.

Good. I hope u have a lovely evening. What undies did u choose?

My phone soon beeped again and I smiled at the reply.

Trust u to ask that. I chose the sexy ones. xxx

Nice! Have fun!


Julia Sends a Text Message

Hi there. My name is Raymond Ryan and we haven’t met before. I am male, white Caucasian, of average height and build, and thirty-seven years old. I am a college lecturer, specialising in mathematics and science. I teach pupils of all abilities from the age of eighteen upwards. I enjoy my work immensely and believe that I am pretty good at what I do. I have a very healthy and active sex life with my thirty-five year old partner Julie, who has been living with me for three years in my apartment in Kingston, near London, England. Julie and I have played out many wonderful sexual fantasies in the last few years. Among other things, one of our teases is to send each other rude or suggestive text messages from our mobile phones.

When I gave my mobile phone number to my class of twelve A-level mathematics students, my motivation was purely to be there and available to them should they need any help with their course. I hold an after college study class and occasionally two or three of the more enthusiastic students will attend a study group at my apartment on a Saturday morning. Three of the class, in particular, Julia, Emma and Darren, regularly attend on Saturday mornings. All three are capable students and Julie and I both enjoy their company when they visit our home. As a result, I have their mobile phone numbers stored in my phone.

My life changed when I sent this message; “I can’t wait to get into your knickers,” to the student of mine called Julia, instead of to my partner Julie. It was not until I received a reply that I realised that I had made a stupid mistake, but the message I got back made me catch my breath and it changed my life, forever.

Julia texted back “mmm yes my pussy is wet for your touch.”

I could not help but imagine Julia in my mind, with her skirt around her narrow waist, phone in one hand, other hand in her knickers, with a finger in her pussy rubbing her clitoris. I know Julia quite well having taught her for nearly a year now. Most people would describe her as very attractive. She’s a bright girl of nineteen, and originally from Mozambique in Africa. I realised, immediately, that I had made a gross error that could seriously threaten my job. Straight away I started to compose a reply to her text, full of apologies, explaining that the text message I had sent her, had been meant for Julie instead.

As I was doing this, I heard the sound of keys in the front door, which opened and Julie entered our apartment. Out of a sense of fear that Julie would suspect me of intentionally seducing a student of mine, I hastily put my phone down on the table, with the reply half written, and went to welcome her at the door. The kiss I gave her in greeting was passionate, maybe more so than she was expecting. She responded in kind and, very soon, we were kissing so hard that my tongue must have been half way down her throat. She tasted good; in fact, she always tastes good. I held her in a tight embrace, winding the fingers of my left hand into her soft dark hair, my right hand caressing the small of her back through the material of her suit. However, I was still struggling to free my mind from the earlier mental image of Julia masturbating. I fleetingly imagined that I was trading tongues with my student instead of my partner. Everything considered, I found myself becoming aroused and Julie noticed this too.

We were disturbed when my phone made that bleeping sound that informs you that a message has been received. Before I could react, Julie reached over to the table and picked up my phone to hand it to me. Like in a sit-com series, she did one of those classic double take things with her head and eyes as she glanced at the text still displayed on my screen. The one I had been in the process of writing before she came home.

She handed my phone to me and said, rather more deliberately than is usually necessary, “Ray. Is there anything you feel you should share with me?” She raised an eyebrow, fixing me with a questioning stare from piercing green eyes.

Believing that when in a sticky situation telling the truth is the best policy, I confessed to her that I had sent a text meant for her, to Julia instead. She laughed thinking that it was amusing.

I cautioned her, saying, “It’s not funny, I could loose my job because of this. Plus, there’s a further complication. I got a reply from Julia which might cause even further embarrassment.”