Taboo is Just Another Word For I Want You
This week’s confession is hard to write. I have to leave out certain details to protect the anonymity of someone else. The problem is that the details are what makes this particular story so damn interesting. If it were up to me, I would divulge it all for your pervy little ears, but I can’t. Truly, I can’t.
What I can tell you is that it’s a perverse story of a taboo relationship that never should have happened for several reasons. Reasons I can’t mention. It’s a secret. A steamy secret. Let me try to tell you as much as I can and I’ll let you use your imagination to fill in the details of who, what, where, and when.
For starters, there are three reasons why the events I’m about to tell you should never have happened in the first place and let’s just say that the time and place where always inappropriate. Unfortunately those are the details I cannot tell you, but, oh yes there is a but, I can tell you about the steamy parts. Sit down, get comfy and follow me down memory lane.
A long time ago, a dozen years ago, I met someone for the first time. Nothing physical happened that night and nothing physical would happen for a number of years, but the seeds had been planted. A barrier of sorts broke in me that night and would open me up to possibilities I had never before considered. It was the way he looked at me. I was young and although nothing was spoken aloud, I knew exactly what that look meant. For the first time maybe, I knew and suddenly I was turned on by the perversity of it all.
It wasn’t until quite a few years had passed that I would run into him for the second time and the whole process started over again. Still, we refrained from saying anything aloud, but the language we used was dripping with ulterior motives. An intent and meaning invisible to everyone but us. The three reasons why we couldn’t do anything about it continued to be valid and they only spurred us on, feeding off the tension that passed between us. I watched him dance with someone else when I knew he’d rather be holding me against him and I went home alone. I dreamt of him that night, like I would dream of him several times as the years passed. In the exact same way he would dream of me.
Again, a few years passed without a word. Then three events would throw us together in a short span of time. The first event, we shared an elevator in silence. I leaned against the wall and he told me to stop doing that, swearing at me under his breath. Suddenly, he decided to give in after all these years and pressed his body against mine right where I was standing. With his entire body pressed – hard – against mine he starred at me for a long time and then leaned in to kiss me. I pulled away before he had a chance. My heart was racing a mile a minute and although I had always been the one to nudge the line we couldn’t cross, I didn’t know if I could go through with it.
We walked together aimlessly for a long time, openly discussing our feelings and desires for the first time. Telling each other why we couldn’t do this and finding that those were the exact reasons why we wanted to do it. I pulled him into the woman’s bathroom with me. The lights were dim and although anyone could have walked through that door, he pressed his body against mine again. He didn’t try to kiss me, but he placed his hands on either side of my body, lightly touching my thighs, my hips, the exterior curve of my breast, but always avoiding the spots that would suddenly change the meaning of it all. There was still a line we couldn’t yet cross.
We stood so close to each other, yet barely touching as if the lighter the touch the easier it would be to pretend it had never actually happened. I couldn’t think of anything else but his hot breath on my neck and our lips gently hovering over one another without actually diving in. I slowly raised my skirt and slid my hand between us. My fingers pressed against my clit, over my panties, the back of my hand rubbing his hard cock as I stroked myself. I eventually pulled away, before it could go any further, and left the deserted bathroom to rejoin civilization.
The second event, we stood alone in a parking lot in the middle of the night. Leaning against a car, I listened to him as he enumerated all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this. I told him, “I agree, but I can’t help but want you to slide your hand up my thigh right now”. “Fuck it”, he said and he did just that. He placed his hand in between my thighs, I was wearing tights and he gently stroked the material until he reached my cunt. Inches apart from each other, I placed my hands on his arms to brace myself as he so very lightly stroked my clit over my tights. It seemed to last for an eternity, yet not long enough. He tried to kiss me again and I pulled away.
Kissing him was a line I was not ready to cross, it would make it all too intimate, too real. Stepping away from me he said, “this is all a game to you, isn’t it?” Yes, “yes” I said as I turned around and placed his arms around me and his hands on my tits, “it’s the only way I can handle it.” With my back turned to him and his arms tightly wrapped around me, we discussed the possible consequences of our actions. He asked me to stay, I grabbed his hand and smelt his fingers, I told him he would go to bed smelling like me and I left.
The third event, changed things. Clearly, every time we ran into each other we pushed the line further and further. The question was how far were we willing to go. Again, we found ourselves sharing the same elevator. I leaned against the wall and looked at him. The first thing he said to me was “don’t even think about it.” I told him the night was still young. He got drunk, very very drunk and suddenly the tables turned. I was always the one playing and inciting us to go further, but this time it’s as if he all of a sudden let go and completely gave in. The reasons why he shouldn’t have even thought about doing what he would do didn’t seem to exist anymore.
The way he looked at me was much too intense. I worried that it would be immediately recognizable by everyone surrounding us. I was nervous, I didn’t know where this would go. I went into the girls bathroom to take a piss and he followed me right into the stall. He wouldn’t leave and I peed with him standing right in front of me. When I stood up to wipe myself and pull up my panties, he took a step towards me and I found myself backed against the bathroom stall wall with the toilet bowl in between my legs. He just stood there staring at me, daring me to finally go through with it.
I chickened out and pushed him out of my way. Leaning over the sink to wash my hands, he stood behind me, his crotch pressed against my ass, watching me in the mirror daring me to do something, anything. I walked out of the bathroom and went outside to have a smoke. He sat beside me on the bench and leaned over my legs to kiss my thigh. One kiss that was all. I stood up and he followed me to my car. I opened my car door and he pressed me against it. This time I couldn’t find the will to pull away and he kissed me. We kissed. I stood legs apart, one foot on the edge of my car and the other firmly planted on the ground. His hands found their way inside my underwear and with a little guidance he gave in and slid a finger inside of me.
I needed to think. I needed to process this. I sat inside my car, the door open, my legs outside the car and took a breath. He kneeled in front of me, placed his hands on my knees and proceeded to spread them apart. I wouldn’t let him. This was all too much, I thought I would explode after all these years of restraint. I didn’t know how to completely let go and turn the fantasy into something tangible and much more fragile and subsequently much more damaging. He wanted to taste me and I avoided committing one way or another. I stood up again, knees weak, kissing him again, his hands searching deeper.
Unable to say no and unwilling to go all in, I let my body decide for me. I climbed back into my car and invited him to join me. I wanted to feel his entire body pressed against mine. I wanted to feel the weight of him on top of me. He had other things in mind. Hiking up my skirt, he pushed my underwear aside and placed his tongue where I had previously denied him access. It was good. It felt great. There was no way I would come. Not now. My mind was much too busy dealing with the fact that this was actually happening and that any second someone would discover him with his head buried in between my legs. Those three reasons didn’t disappear. They were all too present and I never let go. The question is, how far will I let it go next time?