I Touch Myself

I have always been a sexual person. Getting myself turned on as just a young girl, making myself loose my mind before falling into a deep sleep. Sex was just another step in my pleasure; I enjoyed it from the very first time.

Walking up the street to his East Village digs I adjusted my black woven hat. As I climbed the stairs I hoped not to run into The Neighbor, who so obviously wanted me for him self. John Galliano Guy opened the door and smiled. He had on skinny black jeans, nothing else and looked incredibly sexy. I was beginning to wonder if he owned a shirt.

Excited and with something to prove in terms of my willpower, I placed my hat on the end table. I lay across his bed and he unbuckled the straps of my 6”high heeled Top Shop mary-janes. “Are we going to do this?” he asked as his hands began to move across my legs. I nodded and bit my lower lip in anticipation. 

The only rules were no touching, anywhere in the obvious spots and no kissing. John Galliano Guy moved his hands up my thighs and over my waist. He pushed my skirt up and pulled off my sweater. I could feel his energy moving across my skin. I began to move my hands over his body. We were face-to-face sitting just inches away. I could feel his breath on my lips; we didn’t kiss.

I reached down and began making tiny circles over my panties. He unzipped his jeans and I could see how hard he was. I lay back, my head on the pillow so I could watch him stroke himself. My legs straddled his thighs and he sat up on his knees; our hands bumping each other’s as we got ourselves off.

We let go at almost the very same moment. He was all over my breasts, everywhere. It turned me on so much seeing him let go. I slipped back into my dress reapplied my YSL neon pink lipstick. As I buckled the straps on my shoes I couldn’t help but think; if he was that good with out touching me, what was going to happen next time?