If You Can't Say No


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, True Story, .

Desc: Sex Story: It was something she knew she shouldn't do, but the guilt would not be had, not on a day such as this. Sometimes lust is more addictive than any drug, and she was becoming the ultimate junkie.

It was a rather steamy day, with forceful breezes that seemed to appear from nowhere in particular. One had only to stand outside for mere seconds to know that Mother Nature had something in mind for the evening.

The day started out nicely enough, and though I was very sleepy from having stayed up too late the night before, I felt marvelous. The entire day had been unsettling in a sensual way. Too many thoughts of lovers, too much humidity perhaps, too many hours spent talking to a new flame... all had placed me in the most erotic mood. I had left the house in a hurry, and as I drove I listened to "If You Can't Say No" by Lenny Kravitz, master mood-producer extraordinaire. His music always sends me spiraling into a shameful void of lustful emotions and forbidden thoughts.

I drove and sang along with the music, re-playing the same song over and over until I had no choice but to be completely overcome with what the lyrics meant. "If you can't say no, just think about me", easy enough to understand, right? A lover tells his unfaithful partner to think of him before she commits any more crimes against their relationship. Damned guilt, it weeds its way in every time. What is it that's so incredibly sexy about "shame on you" music? Music that speaks to you and tells you you're bad when you're doing something you shouldn't? What makes a person think, this is so bad, so wrong, but I can't resist? I WON'T!

Ignoring the urge to turn around and be safe, loyal, and "mature", I drove on. I reveled in my rebellion and laughed at all the men who made passes at me as they sped by. The freeway is a bit of an advertisement for life, I think. Some fly at the speed of light, others take their time, most don't know what the hell they're doing. I am the kind who takes their time and I do it with everything. Some would describe me as slow and I would have no trouble with that at all. I describe myself as slow; I eat slowly, I talk slowly, I move slowly thus making myself fashionably late wherever I go. But I would not be late tonight; I would be right on time.

I remembered the first time I had visited, I had done the same things, felt the same excitement, the same delirium, the same guilt, frustration and shame. It was wonderful, the way my blood ran fast through my veins, the way the space between my breasts would become just slightly sweaty and the air I breathed seemed hollow and sparse. It was every bit the same as fainting, yet staying coherent. Fantastic.

At that point I was excruciatingly nervous. I reached my exit and felt my muscles clench against the urge to pee. I decided I wanted to stop at a bathroom before I reached my destination so that I would have time for the greeting I knew I would receive.

I pulled into the local fast food joint and killed the engine. The azure blue sky would be deep sapphire before too long, and I delighted in the feel of the caressing breezes that washed over me as I opened the car door. Dressed in nothing but a tiny black slip-dress and black sandals, I sat for a moment, legs spread wide, in the process of getting out. The insistent wind blew its way through my toes, around my ankles, and snaked up my thighs like a cool and welcomed serpent. There's nothing so fresh and exciting as nature's breath upon bare skin, especially in the most sensitive of places. I could feel every inch of my flesh; I was on fire! I could feel my bones ache with want and I ran my fingers across my collarbones thinking of the kisses they would most assuredly receive that night. I opened my eyes, which I hadn't realized were closed, and stepped out of the car.

In the bathroom, I was alone. I smiled as I noticed I was completely wet. It seems that my thoughts have enough power on their own to keep me constantly so, but I was overjoyed that I would not be with just my thoughts alone tonight.

I returned to my car and drove a long time before I found my last exit. I turned left and my heart, already pounding, began to race as I approached the gate. For some reason I wanted to get into the gate without having to call and be "buzzed" in, so I waited just a bit until another car drove in before me, and I followed behind. I directed my car through the parking lot, round and round, until I lost my entire sense of direction. I took a wrong turn that completely obliterated any sense of north I had and finally said to HELL with it! I spied his car and parked accordingly.

There I was, I had been naked in his presence before, I had been the wanton heathen in his tent that night and still I was nervous. Still, I shook and my heart could be heard yards away. In a mirrored image from earlier, I saw myself open the door and step out. I adjusted my dress and hair and grabbed my bag. I walked to the door in near frenzy and could not wait for it to be opened. This was not panic, nor was it discomfort or insecurity. This was need. Absolute, unadulterated, undeniable NEED. I need to be here, I need to be here... over and over I listened to my body. I walked forward, resisting the urge to run, and I knocked, timidly at first, then with more aggression.

I know that words were said, once the door was opened, but I can't remember one. I walked into his place, dropped my bag near the door, and fell into his arms. He smelled as he always does, of green and brown things that grow in the deepest depths of the forest. He had showered and his hair was still damp as my fingers wove their new home. We kissed for what seemed to be forever and my knees turned to hot, fluid silk.

I reached for his hand and placed it on my heart. "See what you do to me?" I asked, and his eyes grew wide in disbelief.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Heterosexual / True Story /