When he pulled her closer she didn't push him away. Now his body was touching hers all the way from her knees to her shoulders. He bent his head so that his cheek rested in thickness of her blonde hair and wormed it downward until she could feel his chin on her ear. Jane was a woman who hadn't been in a man's arms-any man at all-for months. Months that now seemed like years. As he pressed her closer to him she allowed it, only partly against her will. He began running his hand up and down the firm, resilient flesh of her back. The crowded abundance of her breasts pressed into his chest and felt the beginning of an old familiar feeling. Not thinking, the alcohol flowing warmly now through her veins, she pressed her front against Harry's open jacket, belt buckle and pants.
Hold on a minute, came a warning of alarm from somewhere inside her head, things are getting too chummy here. Don't let him squeeze you close like this – he can feel everything you've got.
She halfheartedly raised her head from under his chin and moved an inch or two away from his body. The warmth of their bodies wafted up into her nostrils from between them and she detected the scent of her fruity cologne mixed with a more musky, masculine aroma.
"Maybe we've been here too long, Jane," he said to her. "Maybe you'd like to leave.”
"Yes," she answered, "let's do.”
Maybe Harry wasn't bent on anything like she was thinking, after all. Maybe he was just trying to be nice to her as a friend and wasn't trying to get her to act like a woman with him.
But when Jane agreed and said yes to his question, Harry took it an entirely different way. He hadn't simply been inquiring if she was tired of dancing so much as whether she was ready to do something else instead of dancing. She sure had let him get a nice close feel of those big jugs of hers, that was for sure. When she agreed to leave he hoped to hell she meant she was ready to let him get his hands on her and do them both some good. He knew she was far from weak-willed-that's why he had plied her with drinks. Now it looked to him like he was going to get some action out of her.
On the way to the car he held her tighter than was necessary. In the front seat he slid in beside her but as he inserted the keys in the ignition she felt the purposeful caress of fingertips along the tops of her thighs. He peeled out of the parking lot with such force she was thrown against him as the car sped down the street. He buried his hammy hand between her legs and pressed his fingers against the inner surfaces of her thighs.
"Harry," she called out, "what are you… what are you doing? I think you better-”
"Let's be grown up about this, Jane,” he said, as he steered the car off the street and braked to a halt beside the freight dock of an abandoned warehouse. "You liked what was happening on the dance floor as I did. You don't need to play games with me. Don't be afraid to admit you need some loving.”
"Wait a minute," she said. "You're not… you don't understand. I can't have you think-”
"Think, hell," he exclaimed, interrupting her again. "I don't need to think anything, and neither do you. Just come off your high horse and act like a woman.”
He was breathing hard and his tie was twisted sideways. He turned to face her and took her face in his hand while his other one busied itself in the soft folds of the clothing between her thighs. He was trying to find an opening into the secrets of her underclothes.
"You're beautiful, god damn it. You're a beautiful woman, Jane, and your husband's gone. Why don't you admit you need a man's hands on those big tits of yours, huh? Why don't you admit you need a good hard prick between your legs?”
His forehead was covered with sweat. Jane jerked her body back and forth on the seat but the drinks she'd had made her movements irregular and lurching. The motion made her breasts strain against her bra and heave back and forth under her blouse like two balloons under a tarpaulin. It was exactly the wrong thing to do if her aim was to stop Harry's attentions-and she was less and less certain just what her aim was. The way she was moving herself around in the seat made her sexier than ever to him. He couldn't wait to get his hands under there and get his fingers on the sweet naked flesh of her breasts and groin.
"No, Harry, no… you can't do this, you're making a fool of us… you're a married man… stop it, now… you really better lay off before-“
He covered her mouth with his lips.
"Mmmffff!" she cried.
He pursed his lips and sucked the sweet moisture of her mouth off her red, squirming lips. He took his hand from her face and threw it around her back.
"Ungh," she grunted, unable to speak with his mouth covering her lips. But the outcry was only partly a protest. The feel of his mouth and hands on her was taking its due. There was no way for her to keep the truth from herself any longer. She was beginning to like what he was doing to her. She was beginning to like it, and she was starting to want more of it. It didn't matter what her head was telling her anymore. No matter how much she thought she shouldn't be letting any of this happen, her sensitive breasts and slowly moistening genitals were right there underneath her thin clothes denying every protest.
Chapter 2
Harry's eyes were wild. He wasn't physically forcing Jane to submit to him, he was simply overcoming her feeble and weakening protests by the pure intensity of his desire. She could have slid away from him across the seat if she'd been up to it. The maddening question was why was she not up to it… was it the alcohol in her veins or was it the gradual dawning of her own latent cravings?
She squirmed under the avid touch of his fingers but it seemed that moving her body only made her breasts and damp pelvis come into contact with him more and more. Everywhere she turned, there he was.
Inside her skirt, in the dark recesses of her genitals, something was happening to Jane that she didn't want to admit. She was getting all moist and slick there, and she was aware of a swelling surge of desire unlike anything she'd felt since becoming a widow.
Harry ran his hand down her back and succeeded in loosening the waistband of her skirt.
"Let go, damn it Jane, let yourself go. You know damned well you need a good satisfying fuck. And I'm just the man to give it to you! Can't you see you're driving me wild just feeling you up like this? Let me into your panties and I'll give you some relief!”
She was scandalized by his words. Her husband had been an adequate lover, but he'd never said things to her like Harry was saying. She felt a bit of revulsion to what he was saying, but at the same time she also experienced an unaccountable and perverse desire to hear him tell her more. Already his hand was lowering her skirt to her hips and she realized that he'd have it down to her thighs in no time and be able to strip off even her panties. She moved sluggishly against him but now she wasn't exactly fighting him, it was more that she was rolling with the tide. The feel of his naked hand inside her skirt made her feel more and more ashamed of the mounting desire to have him touch her plump, sweating genital lips.
Oh my God, this can’t be happening, she thought to herself. I… I'm getting so hot for it I'm going to wind up letting him stick in his cock and get me going so much I'll never be able to stop. I'm so embarrassed I could cry. What a slut I am! If my daughters could see their mother now I'd never be able to face them again!