"What are you doing?" I asked, pulling my mouth away from his in order to pose the question.
It was a rhetorical question, or at least sort of. I knew what he was doing. His hand had slowly been making its way under and up my shirt as we fogged up the my car windows while parked in front of his house.
"Are you wearing that bra you told me about?" he asked, playing with the hem of my sweatshirt.
I looked at him like he had sprouted two heads.
"I am wearing a sports bra," I said flatly. "We just ran up several hundred stairs. That is not the kind of thing you wear a lace bra to do."
"So you're not going to let me go up there?" he questioned.
"No, I am not - not tonight. Things are sweaty and gross," I stated.
His eyes perked up upon hearing the word "sweaty," but quickly returned to normal when I shook my head and began to glare at him.
"Let's clear this up right now: post-exercise, I am always going to want to shower before fooling around or having sex," I told him. "I am not a fan of lady bits in general, so there is no chance of anyone getting near this if I am feeling less than fresh. I need a shower first." He did not seem to understand the purpose of this, so he decided just to lick my neck. Following his lead, I proceeded to lick the sweat off of his. "I just have to remember not to give you a hickey in case you have to go to a job interview this week," I said, more to myself than to him.
"It is okay," he replied, "I am the kind of guy who likes to wear turtlenecks under my scrubs."
That was good enough for me, so I proceeded to suck on his neck. A little while later, I pulled back in an attempt to check on my work.
"How is it?" he asked.
"I don't know," I answered honestly, "I can't see. It's too dark in here."
Alas, before being able to confirm that my canvas had been marked, it was time for me to go. I booted him out of my car, turned on the engine and drove away.
If I had realized that I was due to start my period a day later, I probably would have taken pity on him and let him take a good feel of whatever he wanted. The first two days of my period generally see me agitated with the very idea of people, so being touched by one in places that my bathing suit covers is not appealing.
Poor guy. He is now doomed to spend his Valentine's Day actually watching whatever we play on my TV.
It was a rhetorical question, or at least sort of. I knew what he was doing. His hand had slowly been making its way under and up my shirt as we fogged up the my car windows while parked in front of his house.
"Are you wearing that bra you told me about?" he asked, playing with the hem of my sweatshirt.
I looked at him like he had sprouted two heads.
"I am wearing a sports bra," I said flatly. "We just ran up several hundred stairs. That is not the kind of thing you wear a lace bra to do."
"So you're not going to let me go up there?" he questioned.
"No, I am not - not tonight. Things are sweaty and gross," I stated.
His eyes perked up upon hearing the word "sweaty," but quickly returned to normal when I shook my head and began to glare at him.
"Let's clear this up right now: post-exercise, I am always going to want to shower before fooling around or having sex," I told him. "I am not a fan of lady bits in general, so there is no chance of anyone getting near this if I am feeling less than fresh. I need a shower first." He did not seem to understand the purpose of this, so he decided just to lick my neck. Following his lead, I proceeded to lick the sweat off of his. "I just have to remember not to give you a hickey in case you have to go to a job interview this week," I said, more to myself than to him.
"It is okay," he replied, "I am the kind of guy who likes to wear turtlenecks under my scrubs."
That was good enough for me, so I proceeded to suck on his neck. A little while later, I pulled back in an attempt to check on my work.
"How is it?" he asked.
"I don't know," I answered honestly, "I can't see. It's too dark in here."
Alas, before being able to confirm that my canvas had been marked, it was time for me to go. I booted him out of my car, turned on the engine and drove away.
If I had realized that I was due to start my period a day later, I probably would have taken pity on him and let him take a good feel of whatever he wanted. The first two days of my period generally see me agitated with the very idea of people, so being touched by one in places that my bathing suit covers is not appealing.
Poor guy. He is now doomed to spend his Valentine's Day actually watching whatever we play on my TV.
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