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Chapter Four

A moan leaves my lips, and my right-hand trembles down to that spot, touching the swollen part of his pants, he moans and murmurs words between my lips that I don't understand, I slide my nails there and squeeze his volume with my fingers, feeling his dick hard under the fabric. I smile with pleasure, my palm sliding up and down, slow and fast at just the right moments, the sensitivity of his dick is clear in the sounds the man makes, I feel it pulsing. He moans against my lips and moves a few inches away. His eyes are closed as he feels my last movement, a hoarse moan leaves his lips as his hips quiver against my hand, the man seems to be fighting hard against his next action. He reaches for my right hand and grabs it, bringing it into his field of vision.

"No." His breath is ragged, but his voice sounds sincere. Before I can answer and question him, his lips move forward, devouring mine with an intense and urgent kiss. I feel his hand slide down the skin of my neck, his fingers touching and moving down to my breasts, sure of his act, I sigh against our kiss and feel him breathe in agreement. "Here?" I moan in supplication and he laughs softly in a tone of pure satisfaction. I squirm against his touch, desperate for more, for everything. His fingers squeeze my nipples mercilessly, and I sigh against his ear in response, biting the lobe. He kisses me again and I am swept away by the rush of our work together. I surrender my body and completely wild mind, my hands squeezing, sliding, and scratching the skin of his neck and arms, scratching to mark him as mine.

"I love your experienced hands, you know what to do with me," I whisper incoherently but feel alive. In response, he massages and squeezes my hips with both hands until he reaches the lack of fabric on my thighs. Fingers slide down my thighs as my lips are kissed. The place loses its meaning and I completely lose track of my name, just feeling that this was my moment, my body being touched with such desire and certainty that it felt right. I shamelessly open my legs and silently beg his hand to follow the right destination for my pleasure. My body becomes too heavy for me, pleasure being my strength and weakness at the same time, he notices and holds me, his hand bringing one of my legs to his hip, giving me his support. I let out a moan in agreement with him and shake my hips against his hard cock under the pants that are now too tight for him. The hand that was exploring my thighs moved up to meet the crack of my panties. I feel his fingers slide tightly over the fabric and I push my crotch against his fingers, begging, longing... He smiles and looks into my eyes, the gray strands of his hair falling across his face. His face was somber, the coldness of a man of power, he seemed to dominate everything and everyone, I imagined him watching his success with a cigarette between his fingers. This was a man of vice, but exquisite enough not to be noticed. He radiated mystery and dominance. His hands and posture seemed to carry strength, firmness, and a certain cruelty, his fingers squeezed me with a force that made me feel a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"No man has ever touched you like this before?" I look into his eyes and shake my head negatively. His expression turns serious for a few moments, then I bite my lips, he notices and his voice becomes as serious as his face. "Say it."

"I've been touched before, but I've never felt like this..." His silence puzzles me for a few moments before I feel his hand push my panties aside and squeeze my clit with his touch. I moan deeply as I feel the stiffness of his rough fingers against my soft wet flesh down there, biting my lips and watching him sigh in time to his touch. The man knew exactly where and how to touch, the circular movements squeezing my pussy with an intensity that pushed my body against the wall. His fingers interspersed light and fast, tight and slow, I clung to his shoulders as I moved my hips against his touch.

"Good girl..." He says in a hoarse, panting tone. I trembled against his body and the pleasure I felt made me wriggle in his arms.

"Please..."

The man squeezes my nipple with his free hand, his breath cutting as his fingers massage hard into the center of my pleasure. My moans are loud, but I don't care about being heard, I just feel and surrender to the unknown. I feel intense waves coming from there and I go wild, at that point I move towards his still fingers, rubbing against his hand as if his desire would give me such autonomy, he breathes with ferocity and pure desire, and we both seem out of control in our crazy movements, finally I squirm and his arm goes around me giving me support for my orgasm, he holds me and all I hear is my heavy breathing and the sound of his soaking fingers leaving my clit. I take a deep breath and lean against the wall, my nostrils sucking in his scent like a drug.

I could feel his excitement as we approached and my next act was purely impulsive. I kneeled to return what I had received, but I watched him walk away. His face wore an expression of maturity that I had come to hate. I stand up, anger and desire fighting inside me.

"It's not fair that I should be the only one to enjoy this." The phrase seemed to attack him directly.

"I don't think so." I laugh in disbelief at his words, feeling like a teenager again. I approach him, but his retreat makes me angry.

"Don't you want me? Your body says otherwise." I point at his pants and it is clear that I am right. He takes a deep breath and gives me the worst look of all: disappointment.

"You're too young..." His fingers tidy up the sleeves of his social shirt with finesse and agility, his tone now serious and professional, as if what happened seconds before had not happened. I feel anger and shame at his words.

"You weren't thinking about that seconds ago."

"I was." He takes a deep breath, his lips straight but trembling as if trying to hide something. "It was a mistake...maybe you don't understand what happened, maybe you don't see it the way I do."

"You're right, I don't see it. I was hoping to feel like a woman capable of giving pleasure to a man... "My words hurt me because they are both sincere and pathetic. For the first time, I’m telling a man the truth without worrying about his judgment. I will probably never see him again, so there is nothing to worry about. "But you see me as someone to teach about pleasure, I don't need that." I start for the door, but I feel his hand touch my wrist with unbelievable ease. He releases me quickly, as if the act of touching me is unbearable, or perhaps the act of showing anything beyond his stone face is unacceptable.

"I wasn't thinking about my pleasure, that's what happened and... I can't..." He shakes his head negatively, as if the words sounded wrong to him as if he wanted to convince himself of something. His look is pained.

"We don't know each other, there's nothing to talk about."

I gather my things, and withdraw from the scene, refusing to shed a single tear for a stranger. I warn Jessie that I would take a cab myself. After a shower, I feel my mind torturing me with the memory of that man's smell, face, and touch. I hate him. It takes me a while to fall asleep when I go to bed, but I feel that tomorrow will be a better day, calmer and without so many emotions, hopefully.

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