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Lenexa Erotic Story
"Would you have sex with me?"
"No!"
"Well of course not. You're married, so am I. That's not what I meant. I meant 'hypothetically.' Would I be the kind of man you would, say, go out with, and if we had a good time, laughed a little, danced, laughed some more, and the mood was right, and the moon was bright...would I be too repulsive to have sex with?"
"You're not repulsive."
Well I'm not, and I know that. And she knows I know that. And I know that she knows I know that. But I don't think that she knows that I know that she knows I know. Never mind.
"So you would have sex with me." I tried to keep my voice flat.
"Hypothetically speaking." Her voice was pretty flat too.
Her car broke down again and I'd volunteered to chauffeur Kayla to an appointment. We were on our way home. She was slim, red-haired, always slightly dissheveled, a smile that would make a priest hard. She popped into my mind a lot when I was having sex with my wife.
"I'm sorry. I'm embarassing you."
"I'm not embarrassed. I just don't think it's appropriate to talk about sex with you. And you're hitting on me, Steven. I'm happily married."
"So am I. And you're wrong. I'm not hitting on you. I don't want to fuck you."
"Ha."
"I don't. I'm not going to deny I'm attracted to you. You have a lot of style, Kayla, keep yourself in great shape and you're smart besides, but that doesn't mean I'm going to compromise my marriage and yours."
"Well, thank you."
"Life's too short to screw it up having cheap, tawdry affairs, no matter how desirable the woman. I mean, what does extramarital sex get you? - few hot stolen moments of pleasure and then wham, all the guilt and shame and complications."
"I'm not sure I believe you, Steven."
"What? You think you're irresistable?"
"I think you'd fuck me if I looked at you sideways."
I laughed. I couldn't pass up that kind of challenge. "Think so, hm? Well, try it. Look at me sideways. I'll bet you, right now, a hundred bucks - no, five hundred bucks - I can resist you."
She was silent - thinking. I was hitting a chord. "Write me a check," she finally said. "I'll try my best come on. If you can't resist me you lose. We drive to an ATM and I deposit the check."
I pulled over. We'd been passing through an industrial park and I found a deserted parking lot.
As I wrote the check, I swallowed hard, and said, "You think you're hot. OK. Well...you are. Extremely hot. But that doesn't mean I don't have some self-discipline." I ripped out the check and handed it to her. "OK, Kayla, give me your best shot."
She took the check, folded it, then unbuttoned the two top buttons of her blouse and tucked the folded check inside her peach-colored brassiere. She smiled and as she took off her glasses, said, "This is the easiest five hundred I ever made. Here's the deal. I do my come on. The moment you lose control and make a move on me, I win and the game's over. OK?"
"OK."
"Promise? I'll tell your wife if you don't behave."
"I promise. You've got ten minutes."
Kayla sat back against the passenger-side door. In the next few moments she went through an incredible transformation. I suppose I've been around enough women to recognize when they're on the make, but I've never witnessed the moment when a woman simply, visibly, turns "it" on.
"It" was entirely non-verbal: a certain arch of the back to accentuate the outward thrust of her breasts, a coy glance as she pushed back her hair. She bit her bottom lip lightly and sort of squeezed her knees together. She pulled the hem of her red pleated skirt - not up - but down and held it there, as though she was fighting a strong urge to pull it up and show me what was underneath.
She began in a throaty whisper. "The first sex I had was in an older car just like this one, with bench seats." She stroked the upholstery of my '65 Lincoln. "I was babysitting for a couple who were friends of my parents. I was eighteen. Mr. P was gorgeous, or so I thought." Kayla took a deep breath and sat back in the seat. She turned to me and smiled, and I saw a light begin to glow in her eyes, as if she'd turned up the gas on a flame inside her.
"I used to dress like a little slut when I went over there. I didn't know what I was doing, I was just going on instinct or something. Short, short dresses. Open weave stockings. Low cut blouses and tank tops. Anyway, one night, he's driving me home. His wife was already drunk and asleep. And he pulled over."
She slid a leg up on the seat and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. I could hear my heart in my chest.
"He turned to me on the seat like this and said 'Kayla, you have a power.' I asked him what he meant and he took my hand. As he looked at my palm and sort of caressed it, he said, 'you have the power to turn men on,' and he began licking my fingers. He told me that he was under my spell and that unless I turned off my power he was going to have to kiss me."
Kayla's hand was absent-mindedly stroking her leg now. Well it seemed unconscious. I felt kind of dizzy, almost drunk.
"I didn't. In fact, I turned up the heat, projecting the full force of my budding young sexuality at him. And he kissed me - first here (she touched a finger to her lips), then here (her neck), then here (a spot between her breasts.) And then he pushed that short little skirt up around my waist like this, and the sweater up around my neck like this, and I gave it all up to him right there on the front seat of his Lincoln Continental. I must have cum seven or eight times." She sucked in a breath as though she'd just had her breath taken away.
"We fucked that whole summer long. In his car. In his pool. In the woods behind our house. Once we fucked under a blanket in the living room with his wife snoring on the other couch. I couldn't get enough." The hem of her skirt was now pulled up, revealing the white of her thighs soft in the reflected glow of the streetlight. She leaned back and sort of hunched her hips in my direction, slid a finger under the elastic of her panties. "You remind me of him. This reminds me of that night. A lot." I could see her fingers wiggling inside her flower print panty crotch.
I sat like a stone, knowing that if I moved I'd probably explode. She waited. I stared at her. She stared back, her eyes wet and waiting. I didn't even breathe.
Finally, she sighed. She began rearranging herself on the seat. "Well, you win, Steven. I'm impressed." She didn't sound impressed. She sounded disappointed. My check came back out of her bra and she held it out to me. I took it and held it a moment.
"My turn," I said. "If you can resist me, you keep it." Kayla smiled, interested, clearly liking my offer; she now had an opportunity to save face. Her disappointment evaporated and she leaned back again.
"OK, Stevie. Do your best."
I turned away and looked at the now-steamed windows. "I lost my virginity to a pregnant woman." I paused as the memories of that summer flooded back. "In high school I got involved in photography, had my own darkroom. A friend of my mom's decided she wanted to have me photograph her in her pregnancy. I agreed." I ran a hand through my hair, it felt good to be talking after such intense listening. Kayla was rapt.
"We met early one day to catch the morning light. She was about four or five months along. I thought she was beautiful, and she was - about thirty-five and quite pretty. I began the shoot with a few sit-down photos by a window. After that, I looked around and suggested she pose on the couch, she suggested the bedroom had more light."
I adjusted my pants to accommodate the large lump of captive flesh inside. "I too discovered the power of my sexuality. As the shoot progressed, I realized I was in control of this woman. Well, sort of. She followed my every instruction. I'd have her roll on her back, then move a leg here, her arm there. She seemed almost in a trance, following my directions without hesitation. I became bolder. And bolder still. I also became very turned on. And so did she."
Droplets of sweat gathered on Kayla's forehead. Her legs were gradually parting more and more.
"Pretty soon, we both knew what was happening. I'd click a picture, then have her assume a new pose, each time a little more suggestive. Soon enough I was between her outspread legs, ostensibly taking a close up of her face, but my young and ever-ready cock was lodged up against her crotch. She was grinding her pelvis against mine slowly. She never said a word, never questioned or balked at any of my commands. I had her take off her clothes, we took several nudes, some quite erotic." It was my turn to catch my breath. My heart was thumping, my cock throbbing.
"I ended up folded in behind her as she lay on her side, my cock sliding into the wettest, warmest, most luscious, sweet, orgasmic pussy I've ever felt. It was extremely intense. And I am painfully hard from telling that story. You're the only other person I've ever told, Kayla."
I took a moment to consider my next words. "I think you know what I know, Kayla - that truly erotic moments - I mean really intense sexuality - are rare. You can go years without them. Well, my friend, you have that kind of intensity in you. I feel it right now. And I have to ask you, in all honesty and as directly as I know how, to take a chance. Make a fire with me. The kind that burns so erotic, so hot, it will warm the very cockles of our hearts for the rest of our lives."
She stared glassy-eyed at me, mouth open slightly, her pretty face expressionless, her body stock still. I don't know how much time passed, but neither of us moved, we just looked at each other.
After an unknown length of time I passed the check over to her. Eyes still locked on mine, she reached up and took it.
"You bastard," she whispered hoarsely, then ripped the check into little pieces.
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