I Choose Be Fucked

I’ve chosen the literal be fucked option of the day. An incredibly handsome, charismatic man stands across from me. I’ve shifted from my sitting position to a standing one as I’ve realized what I might have gotten myself into. Which is getting into hot shit and a little more of the unknown.
It’s as if ants are crawling over my skin. I’m acutely aware of my new, tight skinny jeans and how little flexibility I have in them.
The man across from me observes me calmly. He has a few inches on me and looks like a cat that just caught a mouse. The cat just doesn’t seem to quite know what to do with that mouse. I can see him weighing the option of playing with me, or eating me.
‘What did I just get myself into?’ I think. My weight shifts from one foot to the other. I rub the back of my neck as I realize I can take control of this situation. I will, I must, I have to be in charge.
“I’m interested about that one technique you described. Where you work into the upper thigh and can get some… interesting results.”
One eyebrow primps on his handsome face. I remind myself that I’m not attracted to much. I always have control over every aspect of my emotions. He seems like he won’t push me. Or at least, I hope he won’t since it’s hard for me not to crumble lately to the right stimuli. Pull my hair and my eyes roll into my head with a barely constrained blissful expression.
“You mean accidentally get them off? Yeah, it’s a common thing actually or at least that’s what they told us in school.”
“They told us draining of the upper thigh leads to erections. Makes sense, the blood gets pushed into one area. Why I just stay away from people’s legs more than I have to,” I say.
It sounds and feels weird talking technical anatomy and physiology with a guy. I eyeball the couch we were just on and I know what he’s going to ask me to do. I decide not to take the prone position and choose face up. My body sinks into the well loved springs of the couch. I’m aware of the animal fur that had accumulated on it from the cats probably claiming it.
“You know this works better with skin on skin.”
He says with a unmoving, serious face. Hardly even a leech undergone to it. He’s so straight laced I just want to mess up his hair and everything about him. I can only hear the sexual undertone to it because we’ve already assessed we have equal dirty minds.
His hands move to my leg and he starts on my upper thigh. The Unicorn man’s face becomes thoughtful as he moves around ligaments and attachment sites. His face reminds me of the sky with clouds passing over the surface. I’ve nicknamed him the mystical creature since he’s a hodgepodge of everything in one.
He mumbles to himself about avoiding endangerment sites, and palpates to find the right spot to focus on.
His face takes on a serious, and curious look as his hands move on the fabric of my jeans. I’m acutely aware of the lines of his face and trace my gaze down his body. It’s easier since he’s concentrating so hard on his handiwork that I can check him out fully.
I tilt my head to the side. He gets that look of working and I chuckle to myself. He’s so fucking adorable I could eat him up… literally.
He looks at me with an unsaid question. His eyebrows knit together ever so slight as he studies me. I’m surprised the Unicorn man can’t decipher my laughter and what it means.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“And what about me?”
He pauses with his hands above my knee. I reframe from biting my lip. There’s nothing quite as showing with your sexual interest like licking your lips or biting your bottom lip. I know he can read any tells like the most extreme poker player ever created.
“I guess you’ll just have to figure that one out.”
He finds a particularly tender spot near my psoas muscle. My breath sucks in as I try to control my reaction. It feels great and that good kind of hurt, slightly on the edge of unbearable. It takes everything within me to try to fool him and control my reactions. He catches it immediately as his eyes search my face.
“Too much pressure? I can lighten up.”
“It’s never too much, I don’t have any limits to anything.”
“I’m pretty certain I can find your limits and push you past them. I like it when people underestimate me.”
“I never underestimate you. I’m sure you can back up any and everything you’ve claimed.”
He smiles at me with that difficult to dicern expression. I study him because I can’t help to and he avoids my gaze. It’s a funny thing to watch someone work and to notice how their brain processes tight muscles. They problem solve with this intense look on their face and then it breaks into a glorious look of eureka.
I fall into a silence and control my breathing. Little chuckles escape my lips and he keeps asking me what’s so funny. I can’t quite explain it, only that he’s too much fun to watch. His hands have intense pressure, which I love. My body says to give in but my mind tells me to be on my guard.
“This would be better with your pants off.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“You know how it is working on top of clothes. The friction isn’t helpful and you really can’t get in as deep.”
I don’t know what it is about him that I look at him and seriously consider this option. I’ve never had a man get me out of my pants this quickly. Yet, I know working through clothes is ridiculous and stupid. My body cries out that I should just unbutton my jeans and pull them off my legs.
We sit and have a sort of staring match. My logical and touch starved body compete against each other as I consider his proposition.
Ryguy can be thanked for the continuation of this and I’ll be expanding. Thanks for being my push for my writing and putting it out there.
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