The Driveway

He had no idea how it came to this, how him, of all people, could come to be lying on a grass verge at the bottom of a long driveway, in a different county, with a girl he barely knew lying in his arms, panting hard, nibbling and licking his ear. His heart beat faster. He wasn't sure whether it was due to physical exertion, sheer excitement, or maybe a mixture of both. He lay still, even though every nerve in his body was tingling. He found it odd how he could be so stationary on the exterior, but so alive inside.

When he drove down to see her for a drink, this was the last thing he expected. In fact, given the choice, he would have possibly avoided this situation. He'd been here before. The start of a new relationship, the uncertainty, the hurt - sometimes caused by himself. But when he saw her, it had been a while since the last occasion and something stirred in him. Something he'd been denying, something he'd been ignoring, swatting it away like a summer fly in his field of vision. What stirred was animal, lust, desire. He wanted her; he was going to have her. He hoped she felt the same.

Lying on the cool, damp ground, his thoughts wandered over what had happened through the evening. He saw how all the little events link up, like a map of desire. Like a chain reaction, an unstoppable force. The girl stirring in his arms momentarily interrupted his train of thought, but it was important he remember this he thought to himself. He couldn't say why, it just seemed important.

In the bar, when her hand slyly stroked his down beside the bar stool, that had been living, he thought. So many months of dull emotion, nothing igniting him. But suddenly he found himself burning in his skin.

It happened suddenly. She pushed him against the wall of the bar. It was quiet. He could make out every sound that was coming from her. She seemed frantic, clutching, gasping, grabbing hold of anything she could. Pulling him closer, like it wasn’t enough for her to be pressed against him; she needed their bodies to merge.

All night her body had been snaring his attention. His eyes drawn to her every time he thought she wasn’t looking. The way she moved as she we went to the bar. She moved like sex. That’s the only way he could describe it. He didn’t understand it. He let his eyes run over her body. Her smooth, slender neck. That would be where he nibbled and sucked, his hot breath causing her to shiver. Her breasts, framed perfectly by a neckline that was low enough to hint but not enough to reveal, stirred him. He had to fight the urge to grab her, lead her outside and tear off her clothes. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to be licking and sucking her nipples. He wondered what they looked like, were they light or dark, how would they respond when he pinched them, or ran his tongue over them? He craved this girl he barely knew. He wanted to know so much about her. He imagined her lying naked on his bed, he imagined her in his shower, exploring each others bodies, he imagined her sitting astride him, teasing his cock with her hand. As she turned to order her drink, he was distracted by the smooth lines of her hips; his hands would look good there, pulling her onto him, deeper and deeper. He wondered how his cock, or his finger, or his tongue would feel exploring the hot, wet, warm places of her body. He had to think of other things. He was becoming seriously aroused.

In the quiet afterglow, it was hard to describe the intensity of what had taken place. “Walk me home,” she had whispered into his ear. He was scared. He knew he wanted her, but needed to stay in control.

On a quiet, dimly lit road, he caught her hand and pulled her back to him. Pressing his lips to hers, this time was different. He knew that he had let go, he wanted this. God, he wanted this. She pulled him by the hand, "Come on," she murmured urgently.

Her driveway was a short walk away. A long driveway that led to the house which thankfully, was out of sight. Trees lined both sides of the driveway, providing cover and a sense of mystery. Before he realised it was happening, he had her pressed hard up against a tree, hands fumbling with buttons and zips. Everything was so new. His hands were shaking, he was so nervous. He fumbled, finally undid the zip on her jeans and slowly pulled her underwear aside with his finger. He hesitated, how would this feel? Only one way to find out. His fingers explored, he felt smoothness, as a small tuft of pubic hair, had she prepared for this? Had she been planning this? He found this incredibly exciting. He loved that she seemed so comfortable with her sexuality, so open.

He didn’t have to slide his fingers far before he found how wet she was. She sighed softly and pushed her hips down, grinding against his fingers as he slowly circled her clit. He began slowly, gently, circling, stroking, dipping a finger inside for more wetness.

Now lying on the verge, in the back of his mind, he thought about how it was strange that he could recall all the different textures his fingers experienced. The cold, rough, metal of her zip, the laciness of her underwear and best of all, the hot, slippery wetness.

He sensed her tensing; she wanted it harder, faster, and rougher. She clutched at his neck, him taking her weight as her legs buckled, as if the pleasure was too much for her to cope with. As f she had trouble remembering to stand and enjoy this at the same time. He pressed her harder against the tree. Her hands were running over the bulge in his jeans. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this hard, so desperate for the feeling of another’s hand on his cock, stroking and scratching at him. But he knew that he wanted her to enjoy this more. There would be other occasions for him, this was all about her, his pleasure was feeling her respond. His pleasure was her pleasure.

It came out of nowhere. A gasp, an involuntary thrusting and grinding of her hips against him, then pulling away as her legs buckled. She couldn't bear to be touched, her pleasure was too intense. He lay her down on the verge and held her, feeling her shake. A smile, a heavy breathing, a moment where they both thought “Did that really just happen?” Her orgasm turned him on so much. He knew that he would love pleasing her, that he would do whatever she wanted. He knew in that split second that they would spend the next months, maybe years, he remembered thinking, doing this - exploring each other, trying to make the other feel as much as possible.

He can’t remember how they said goodbye that night. He just remembers driving home, desperate to get home, to his bed, where he could relive the experience. Quietly, patiently, stroking himself, savouring every detail. Remembering her scent, her smell still lingering on his fingers. It didn’t take long. It was intense. His back arched as waves of pleasure shot from his stomach to the tip of his cock. He let out a small moan. In the hot, still, thick darkness he turned over to sleep. He wished she was there.