We stood on Holloway road kissing.
I love kissing. It’s got to be one of the most underrated aspects of sex. But it’s probably my most favourite. A good kiss will get me going, no problem. A good kiss is like making love with your mouth. A good kiss takes me away to that place where the only thing I can hear is the synchronised breaths emitted from our mouths as we part our lips, and the only thing I can feel is the throbbing between my legs as he presses against me.
He was a great kisser.
No, strike that: a fantastic kisser. His kisses sent shivers down my spine, tingling into my fingertips and throbbing between my legs. His kisses made my whole body feel electric. His kisses made me forget who I was and what I was doing.
So, we’re standing on Holloway road, kissing like two drunken teenagers on a night out; snogging away, oblivious to the people milling around us trying to get the last tube home. The warm summery air is making us both frisky: our hands explored each other eagerly as our mouths moved in synch. We stood there and kissed, and the world revolved around us. Magical.
I was it is fair to say, very turned on. And from the feel of him pressed up hard against my thigh, he was too. The heat between us was intense, the passion fired up. So when he asked me, if he could ‘feel’ me, I didn’t question what he meant: it felt only natural to go with the flow (so to speak).
Even when he slid his hand underneath my jeans and pushed two fingers inside me.
As we stood on Holloway road.
With people walking all around us.
I don’t know if it was because
a) He turned me on so incredibly much
b) I am such a sex fiend that doing something so risqué in public excited me
c) He seems like such a well-brought-up boy, that doing something like this appears out of character and that this daringness appealed to me
But whichever it was, within 60 seconds of his fingers sliding around inside me, I was having a massive orgasm.
As we stood on Holloway road.
With people walking all around us.
I did of course, try to control and hide my climatic convulsions and shuddering, (which wasn’t easy); when the shaking subsided - as if a hypnotic trance had ended - I suddenly became aware of my surroundings and what had just happened: I got very shy and embarrassed and made him remove his hand, as I tried to compose myself.
I have to say that I have never, in all my sex-fiendishness, done anything like this. And if he had given me longer to think about it, I would not have let him to do it. But after being seduced by his glorious kisses, and with time seeming to stand still all around us, I didn’t have time to think: before I knew it he was fingering me in full view of anyone walking past us.
How he had the guts to do that, I have no idea. How I had the guts to let him do that, I have no idea. Maybe he thought I was the sort of girl who would be up for such naughtiness and took his chances. He lucked out I guess: no matter how dirty or sordid I might think I am, I now know there’s always going to be someone else with a far dirtier mind than mine.
Even if he looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
