Four Erotic Tales Read Online Free

she began to shake her head, I realized this must be Kathy the roommate’s and walked us across the short space to the other bed, knelt down on it.
    Bridget unwrapped herself from me, that same questioning expression leavened only by the high color mottling her cheeks and the subtle lift of her nipples through her padded bra.
    Lying beside her, my eyes locked on hers, I ran my fingers up her thigh, and instead of moving my hand as she had on previous occasions, Bridget spread her knees apart. Taking this as a cue, I stroked the seam at her crotch, and when that elicited a quivering sigh, I began to rub her through her jeans. Her eyes were closed tight, and her fingers were knotted in my hair as she began to moan, and then to scream, rocking her crotch against my fingers.
    Dana had taken great pleasure in showing me how to get her off with just my fingers. I preferred pleasing her with my cock or tongue, but was happy that evening to be able to put some of what she’d taught me to use in a non-classroom setting. Bridget certainly seemed to find my work more than acceptable.
    All at once, her thighs clamped around my hand, and I could feel the muscles spasming, and moisture seeping through the denim. “Fuck, Ken, FUCK! ” screamed Bridget, from whose mouth I’d never heard a profanity — and then she began to cry.
    I had no idea what had caused the tears. Still, I felt terrible and started to apologize, but she stopped my babble with her mouth. Figuring that this was as good a way as any of saying what I was trying to say, I pulled Bridget close. As her breathing began to return to normal I felt the hand on my shoulder drift to my ribs, and then my stomach, and then, tentatively, down below my belt. To my shock and delight, Bridget started to return the favor, sliding her palm up and down the bowed front of my Levis.
    “Can I touch it?” she whispered, her voice quivering.
    “Please,” I answered, and when she didn’t move, unbuttoned the fly and pulled out my erection. Still she was frozen, and so I reached out and took her hand — hers were surprisingly small, given how tall she was — and wrapped her fingers around me, guiding them up and down the length of me. It felt good — though basically I was doing all of the work, as I’d been doing for myself after so many of our rendezvous — but she was still lying there, eyes closed. I leaned closer and kissed her, which broke the spell a bit. She began stroking me with more and more authority and soon I was the one moaning. I whispered to her, saying how good it felt, telling her she didn’t need to be too gentle. While she was totally focused on the handjob (which I assumed was her first), I thought I was safe letting my fingers stroke her breast — first to the side, which she’d introduced me to earlier, and then letting my thumb gently slide across her stiffening nipple. Her eyes, which had been locked on the reddening head of my cock, and on the pre-cum welling there, snapped up to mine. I started to withdraw my hand, but she shook her head with a whimper, giving my cock an involuntary squeeze that nearly sent me through the roof. Taking that for encouragement, I went back to teasing her nipple.
    The feeling of her fist stroking me was lovely. The feeling of that big, wide nipple hardening on that soft breast was wonderful. But what I remember most from that moment is the look of feral determination and trust in her eyes as she gave and received pleasure. I began to thrust into her hand, gritting my teeth, trying to keep breathing as Dana had taught me to do — but reaching a point where nothing could have stopped the explosion that she was building in me. When I came, I caught Bridget by surprise, and sprayed all over her.
    We lay there for a minute, and I started to caress her again, but she pushed my hands away this time. She was clearly embarrassed, speechless, sitting there on her bed in her come-splattered blouse, her jeans still showing a dark spot