The Problem With Fabric Upholstery (Dancing With Boundaries Part 4)

I ate the last bite of my drive through chicken and took a long sip of iced tea. Mr. Past took a swig from his bottle of water and smiled.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said with a sigh, “There hasn’t been time to eat today. This is the first nourishment I’ve had.”

“I’m glad I could provide it,” he said tenderly.

“Thank you,” I said softly, “I’m going to have to get back soon.”

“I know. But first…” he leaned in for a kiss.

The tea and the water had cleansed our mouths and the coolness of our tongues mingled slowly. I felt a warm hand on my thigh, moving toward my heated center. Cupping my mound through my leggings I felt his palm move against me, pressing, hard. Instinctively I pushed back. And then, the pressure was gone.

I glanced over in time to catch him with his palm in front of his nose. I raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your pussy always smells the same. God, it takes me back,” he said by way of explanation.

“I hope you mean that in a good way.”

“I do. You’re full of sweet musk. Always. That hasn’t changed since we were teenagers.”

“And has this changed?” I asked. Boldly placing a hand on the erection that strained against his jeans. “Do you still list a little to the left?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. Feel free to check for yourself.”

Instead of taking his hint I just let my hand rest where it was, and deepened our kiss. His hand returned to my crotch.

“How do I get inside these tight things?” he asked.

“From the waistband,” I moaned, easing back in the seat to give him better access.

“Is this thing one piece?”

“No… here. See?”

He saw. And, once the path had been illuminated for him, he had his warm hand against the flesh of my warm mound, fingering my wetness.

“Oh, wow.” I moaned, easing the leggings further down my hips.

Back and forth his fingers went, teasing me, playing with me.

“Please put them inside,” I whispered.

“What was that darling? I don’t think I heard you.”

“Please. Please. Please. Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Please. More. Please.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

My words were whispered groans…

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry! How did you make me do that so fast? Oh my gosh! Your seat!”

“It’s ok. I put a shirt down.”

“Huh?” I asked stupidly as I dug for fast food napkins to dry up the mess I had just made. Mr. Past quickly offered me a roll of paper towels. Props to the man for being prepared.

“I put one of my workout shirts in the passenger seat just in case,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said lamely. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Now, where were we?” he asked, reaching for my well again.

“Oh no you don’t,” I said, scooting away to the edge of the seat. “I can’t be trusted to not soil your car. Or my pants, which I have to wear tomorrow. I’m just relieved they didn’t get wet.”

We resumed our kissing and petting, with him staying above my waist with his explorations. But the more I felt the straining against his jeans, the more I wanted… more.

“May I just look at it?” I asked.

“You do whatever you want with it.”

I unbuttoned and unzipped the denim. Mr. Past lifted his hips and eased down his boxers. Yes. It still listed a bit to left.

Reader note: Yes. I know I’m stretching this out. But I’m trying to keep each post fairly short and add a new installment everyday. I’m not teasing intentionally. Promise. 

25 thoughts on “The Problem With Fabric Upholstery (Dancing With Boundaries Part 4)

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