Sep 04 2008
Like a Prayer – Part 2
Photo by Michael Barone
She pulled my head back, her lips traveling my neck, my collarbone, the rounded curves of my breast before biting down on my shoulder. I gasped as she held on a moment longer, and then whispered in my ear “shhhh.”
With one hand still in my hair, holding me against the wall, she reached the other down my shirt, pulling out each breast in turn. At the same time, she slightly shifted her body, wedging one of her legs between mine, giving me something to press again. My clit was throbbing, and all I wanted was to feel her in me, to hear her in my ear, to be with her.
After a few more moments of kissing, she moved her mouth to one of my breasts, covering it with kisses and small bites before reach my nipple, teasing to me almost exasperation before sucking hard and using her teeth to pull it away from my body. Grabbing that nipple with her free hand, she switched to the other, giving it equal ministrations. While all this was happening, she pressed her knee into me as I ground against it, desperate for something to provide release.
Moving her mouth back up to my lips, she let her hand drop from my breasts, and I think I let out a sigh of disappointment. Leaning in close, she spoke next to my ear, “Didn’t want me to stop?” I tried to shake my head, but with her fingers still holding onto my hair, the movement was very slight. She smiled, one that reached her eyes.
“Well, would you like me to keep going?” Again, my attempt at nodding failed. “Ok, well, I could go back to that, but see, what I really wanted to do was this.” Her free hand slowly slid up my leg, lifting my skirt, and replaced her knee in providing pressure against my clit. Her fingers moved like a musician playing a song, slowly and quickly, and with intent. “But I could stop if you’d like, go back to what I was doing.” I shook my head so vehemently that some of her fingers slipped from my hair and my head softly banged against the wall. Her smile turned into a light laugh.
I pushed against her as I got more and more turned on, more wet, more needing her inside. Maybe she sensed it, and she pulled my lace boy shorts to the ground, never stopping what she was doing to me, undoing me. I stepped out of one leg, letting them settle on my boot.
A few more moments of pressing against me, playing me caressing me, and she slipped a finger in me. After the initial gasp at feeling her in me, I adjusted to her, and without realizing I was saying it, I let out a sigh of “more.”
Her hand left my hair and grabbed my chin. My eyes, which at some point had closed of their own accord, flew open. I was starting straight into hers. “What did you say?”
Fuck. Me and my big mouth. I shook my now freed head. “Nothing.”
“No, I asked you what you said?”
“I asked for more. I just wanted. I. I wanted another finger. I wanted you to fuck me. I’m sorry.” I stammered, unable to think straight with her one finger still inside, her hand cupping my chin.
Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t say sorry. You know, you’re kind of fun.” She kissed me, bit my lip and pulled and then slammed two fingers into me. I made some noise between a gasp and a grunt, mixed in with a moan. After a moment or two, she began to work them in and out of me, fucking me, pushing her palm against my clit and pubic bone, her body keeping my bucking hips against the wall. “Is this what you wanted?” She laughed as she said it, as I was in no place to answer her. All that was coming out of my mouth was a combination of sighs, and moans, punctuated with “fuck,” “oh god,” and “please.” I didn’t know what I was asking for by saying please, but I know that I needed it.
She kept working her fingers in and out of me, shoving me against the wall as I sunk into her, trying to get more of her into me. Then she leaned into me, and said “It’s ok to let go, it’s ok to give in. I want you to come, Ella.” And I came, the feelings and sensations crashing over me, like having a wave wash over me and dragging me under. I tried to come up for air, but she was still there, still fucking me, still next to me, pressing into me, driving me crazy. I came again. And again. And then they just blurred together as I stopped counting. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but at the same time, like I was floating above the earth and didn’t need oxygen.
I reached out for her, wrapping one hand in her hair, the other digging my nails into her back through her t-shirt. She just kept going. As I came, and gasped, and felt tears streaming down my cheeks. My body was at the edge, it couldn’t take it anymore, I dropped to my knees, the irony of the song I’d chosen, my position on the ground and my previous cries to a deity who couldn’t save me even if I had wanted to be saved all escaping me as my thoughts had gone blank.
Slowly, she pulled her fingers out of me as I moaned at the sensation. Gently, she helped me up, putting her arm around my waist as I regained my senses, nudging my breasts back into my shirt. She escorted me out of the bathroom and into the bar; I was sure everyone thought I was drunk, rather than just having been fucked senseless. It didn’t matter.
Some goth girl was on stage singing a song by the Beach Boys, and the crowd has thinned slightly. We sat back down at my booth, and she brought me a glass of water, and another PBR for her. As we watched the performer on stage, she whispered in my ear “Next time, you should sing Alanis. I think you have a little spunk in you.”
Without missing a beat, I turned and whispered back “Next time, you should let me pin you up against the wall and fuck you till you can’t stand anymore.” Startled, she looked at me, eyes roaming over my body before meeting my gaze dead on.
“Deal.”
