left bra strap and ask, ―So, I guess you‘ve never tried taking one of these off a girl before, huh?
―Of course not.‖ He smiles. ―But I can try.‖
I lean toward him and we kiss again. Both his hands are on my back now as he reaches for my bra clasp. I can immediately tell he has no clue. He starts to tug on it a little, then move it up and down.
―Ouch,‖ I squeal as his nails dig into my skin by mistake.
―Sorry. I‘m such a loser. It‘s like trying to get out of Chinese finger cuffs.‖
―You just haven‘t had the practice. I‘ve been taking these things on and off since I was eleven.‖
―Can you show me how? I mean, if that‘s all right.‖
―Um, yeah, that‘d be fine.‖
I reach my hands behind my back. ―You just grab the two parts and pull them together a little.‖ I unhook my bra but keep it on. ―Voilà.‖
―How did you do that? Hook it and let me try again.‖
He reaches his arms behind me and starts fumbling some more, but soon he‘s exclaiming, ―Hey, I got it! I got it!‖
My back is bare, but my bra‘s still hanging on my shoulders concealing my breasts. Light from the distant dock lanterns penetrates the windows, casting a delicate blue sheen over us. We grin at each other softly, as if on cue. I get another sudden rush, like I know this is a moment I‘ll remember forever.
―Go ahead,‖ I whisper, stunned this is actually happening.
Wes gets up on his knees and grabs both shoulder straps before indelicately yanking off the bra.
I wish he had been a little more gradual, to make the moment last.
―Wow, Dom!‖ His eyes widen like saucers.
I think I was expecting to be embarrassed, but I‘m not in the slightest. I want him to see me naked, physically and emotionally. In a fit of passion I reach over and hug him tightly, but instead of hugging me back he wedges his hands between our chests and starts feeling my breasts. Softly at first, then a little rougher, like he‘s trying to figure out what they can withstand.
It‘s fantastic, invigorating, freeing. The sensation of his big, manly hands on my skin makes my whole body feel like silk. I‘m so glad I never let anyone else touch me there before. It‘s as if I‘ve been holding out for Wes before I even knew he existed. Still, I think again how this would be a good time to stop for the night, but then he asks if I want his shirt off too.
―Yeah, definitely!‖ I hear myself answer.
I grab the sides of his polo and start to tug. My breasts are still on full display, and I think he‘s a little mesmerized because he‘s not moving at all, just gazing. Undressing him reminds me of trying to change a sleepy, uncooperative four-year-old into his pajamas.
―Hey, can you just lift your arms up a little?‖
―Oh, sorry, Dom.‖
I pull off his shirt, and he looks so good. Of course I‘ve seen tons of guys topless at the beach and in magazines and stuff, but I‘ve never gotten close enough to actually touch anything. I hesitate, not sure what to do, but then I slowly place my hands on his flat, almost concave stomach. It‘s hard and slightly hairy. I can feel it contract as he breathes. I don‘t think I‘ll ever enjoy reading Gray’s Anatomy or playing Operation again, now that I get to handle a live specimen.
I glance at his face, and he‘s just watching me as I explore his torso. Things suddenly feel too serious and I want to lighten the mood, so I poke him in the tummy and say, ―Nice six-pack, Gersh.‖
―Nice rack, Baylor.‖
―Wes!‖
I start tickling him under his arms, and he laughs and squirms for a few seconds before rolling on top of me. I love the secure sensation of Wes‘s weight pressing down on my body, although it makes taking deep breaths a little difficult. Sometimes he gyrates his pelvis against mine, which would probably feel better if there weren‘t a layer of denim between us. Soon the temperature inside the car gets really hot and the windows fog up,
―Of course not.‖ He smiles. ―But I can try.‖
I lean toward him and we kiss again. Both his hands are on my back now as he reaches for my bra clasp. I can immediately tell he has no clue. He starts to tug on it a little, then move it up and down.
―Ouch,‖ I squeal as his nails dig into my skin by mistake.
―Sorry. I‘m such a loser. It‘s like trying to get out of Chinese finger cuffs.‖
―You just haven‘t had the practice. I‘ve been taking these things on and off since I was eleven.‖
―Can you show me how? I mean, if that‘s all right.‖
―Um, yeah, that‘d be fine.‖
I reach my hands behind my back. ―You just grab the two parts and pull them together a little.‖ I unhook my bra but keep it on. ―Voilà.‖
―How did you do that? Hook it and let me try again.‖
He reaches his arms behind me and starts fumbling some more, but soon he‘s exclaiming, ―Hey, I got it! I got it!‖
My back is bare, but my bra‘s still hanging on my shoulders concealing my breasts. Light from the distant dock lanterns penetrates the windows, casting a delicate blue sheen over us. We grin at each other softly, as if on cue. I get another sudden rush, like I know this is a moment I‘ll remember forever.
―Go ahead,‖ I whisper, stunned this is actually happening.
Wes gets up on his knees and grabs both shoulder straps before indelicately yanking off the bra.
I wish he had been a little more gradual, to make the moment last.
―Wow, Dom!‖ His eyes widen like saucers.
I think I was expecting to be embarrassed, but I‘m not in the slightest. I want him to see me naked, physically and emotionally. In a fit of passion I reach over and hug him tightly, but instead of hugging me back he wedges his hands between our chests and starts feeling my breasts. Softly at first, then a little rougher, like he‘s trying to figure out what they can withstand.
It‘s fantastic, invigorating, freeing. The sensation of his big, manly hands on my skin makes my whole body feel like silk. I‘m so glad I never let anyone else touch me there before. It‘s as if I‘ve been holding out for Wes before I even knew he existed. Still, I think again how this would be a good time to stop for the night, but then he asks if I want his shirt off too.
―Yeah, definitely!‖ I hear myself answer.
I grab the sides of his polo and start to tug. My breasts are still on full display, and I think he‘s a little mesmerized because he‘s not moving at all, just gazing. Undressing him reminds me of trying to change a sleepy, uncooperative four-year-old into his pajamas.
―Hey, can you just lift your arms up a little?‖
―Oh, sorry, Dom.‖
I pull off his shirt, and he looks so good. Of course I‘ve seen tons of guys topless at the beach and in magazines and stuff, but I‘ve never gotten close enough to actually touch anything. I hesitate, not sure what to do, but then I slowly place my hands on his flat, almost concave stomach. It‘s hard and slightly hairy. I can feel it contract as he breathes. I don‘t think I‘ll ever enjoy reading Gray’s Anatomy or playing Operation again, now that I get to handle a live specimen.
I glance at his face, and he‘s just watching me as I explore his torso. Things suddenly feel too serious and I want to lighten the mood, so I poke him in the tummy and say, ―Nice six-pack, Gersh.‖
―Nice rack, Baylor.‖
―Wes!‖
I start tickling him under his arms, and he laughs and squirms for a few seconds before rolling on top of me. I love the secure sensation of Wes‘s weight pressing down on my body, although it makes taking deep breaths a little difficult. Sometimes he gyrates his pelvis against mine, which would probably feel better if there weren‘t a layer of denim between us. Soon the temperature inside the car gets really hot and the windows fog up,
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