Hands

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Ass

Sweat, heat, near-unbearable moisture. Moving masses, drenched bodies, sticky clothes. The fast chorus animates the audience to another circle pit, intensity increasing with the crescendo of aggression in the anti-fascist lyrics.A smile flashes across my lips as my small, braless breasts enticingly bounce with each jump, their firm jiggling only emphasized by the thin tank top that threatens to turn more translucent with every renewed collateral splash of the frequent beer showers. In the moshpit, the accidental touches can’t be told apart from the actual groping by the pervs who might be taking advantage of the situation. Still, I wouldn’t mind if it were your hands that landed on my boobs—or tore off my top the moment you got pushed into me, stumbled and tried to grab anything for support.Between flashes of erratic colored light, I try to make out where you have disappeared behind the walls of thrashing and jumping bodies. Barely dodging the uncontrolled limbs being thrown my way, I push and shove aside whatever stands in front of me, spurred on by the hostility carried by the down-tuned guitar riffs and the singer’s shouts to rise against the capitalist establishment.In reality, however, I get thrown and tossed around like the little lightweight I am, barely able to see past even the shoulders that are at a dangerous height for my eyes, nose and teeth, let alone the elbows. Determined to find your large, manly hands to throw myself into and find shelter in—to feel them on my body, my skin—I keep digging through walls of stainless steel-spiked leather jackets twice my size until an inevitable impact lifts me from my feet and propels me backward what appears to me like a good half-mile.My back crashes into someone—nothing unusual at this kind of event. Anger level rising in my own blood, spurred on by the rage-filled music and cursing my own physical weakness, I try to step back into the core of the main action to take revenge but there are two hands holding me back. Their light, yet determined pressure on my belly releases a pleasant warmth in my stomach in spite of the already rather tropical climatic conditions.As I feel a body connecting to mine from behind, gently pressing my back against its chest, I know I have kocaeli escort found you. Just from how my heart nearly skips several beats that would otherwise compete with the music’s pace, I know those coarse hands on my exposed midriff are yours. The emotions they elicit in my chest, the hormones mixed with the wish for your hands to tear apart my top and press our drenched bodies together make me gyrate my hips against your crotch, your hard rod trying to snake between my tight little buttocks through the sturdy fabric of your cargos.Once the song is over and the audience cheering, I turn around to take a look at you in the white strobe light—your tall, shirtless body, broad shoulders, sinewy arms with muscles steeled from your work that speak volumes about how you could crush my little body in your oversized hands. That intense glance that through cold, ice-blue eyes radiates an ardent hunger… I am so exposed, so vulnerable, subject to your mercy as I place my minuscule hands on your pectorals where every fiber of your muscles strains against your skin.As your arms close around me, the sheer power imbalance between us is overwhelming. I feel your calloused hands slide under my, by now, visually nonexistent top; the rough skin almost scrapes my back as your intrusion separates the soaked-through cotton from my spine. The primal force with which your pull makes my body crash against yours as our lips meet in pure carnal need tantalizes the flame in my loins you’ve ignited with just your hands’ touch.Despite you bowing down, towering over me, I have to stand on my tippy toes to wrap my hands around your neck. Our height difference alone makes me chuckle from the idea of how easy it would be for you to just lift me and impale my helpless little body on your raging erection, how easy it would be to literally jump you and let you overpower me and use me at your will.Time seemingly stops as I take a step back from you to look at you, your hands still on my hips. Around us, the crowd keeps moving seemingly in slow motion, oblivious to our interaction, as the fast-paced shredding riffs keep blaring from the stage.A short break for a round of applause as renewed splashes of beer are raining down on us, creating an almost romantic kocaeli escort bayan moment in the dim sunset-orange light—or is it the sweat that condensed on the ceiling and is now dripping back on us? Chuckling, I dismiss the thought as the dissonant crowd choir sings along to the intro of the last song. Despite the heavy-natured lyrics that my lips unconsciously follow, the moment reminds me of corny, forced photo story romances in girly teenage magazines.With a firm yank, you pull me against your chest again. I barely avoid the draft of someone being hurled past me where I have been standing just a fraction of a second ago. I dig my face into your chest and allow myself to lose myself in your strong arms that protect me from the merciless masses and wrap me in a warm cocoon.Your one hard-skinned hand softly cupping my face makes my heart flutter, the thumb brushing my bottom lip makes reality vanish, your intense gaze silences the abrasive, overdriven mid-range-heavy guitars that have been tearing my eardrums the entire evening. Even the final unheard breakdown leaves me unmoved as your other hand rakes my spine, firing jolts of arousal directly into my brain from how your coarse skin delicately scratches mine.I so badly want to use my small paws to guide your enormous mitts to my panties that have marinated in far more than just perspiration. The thought of what you are capable of doing to me with just your fingers makes me unable to even think of resisting you.The way home to my place takes us through the subway—hardly an inviting place at this hour. The thought is supported by the gawking of the man sitting across me, shamelessly ogling me. I don’t even need to look to sense his gaze transfixing me and unsolicitedly drinking in how my clothes, drenched and sticking to my body, do very little to conceal my nipples. I can’t blame him.Too horny to be ashamed or uncomfortable, I sense your reassuring hand on my thigh. His eyes find yours and quickly, he produces his phone and tries to distract himself from the thick, pheromone-heavy musk I must be oozing in your presence. I smile at the thought of how you protect me so easily and that you are mine for the night—as I am yours to use as you please. A shiver runs izmit escort down my nape as I try to picture what you are going to do to me with those long fingers, how you are going to use me for your pleasure.I want to melt into the seat from the touch; I need you to slide your hand up my thigh, find my little erect button and help me relieve the pressure right now. Unconsciously, I squirm around on my seat, trying to get your touch to slide closer to my crotch, to show you how much heat radiates from it just for you.The blood now rising into my cheeks in shame, a low moan escapes my lips when I feel your pinky brush close to my pussy. My eyes are half-closed in my quest for a more intense touch, my mouth slightly agape as I see the man lift his eyes from his phone to meet mine. I can’t help the urge to bite my bottom lip in pure lust as shivers run through my body from your touch. Quickly, he forces himself to focus on his phone again, bringing it closer to his face to escape your watchful eye.Yet before you send me over the edge, my stop’s name comes garbling through the speakers. Trying in vain to suppress the frustrated sigh, I take your hand from my crotch and lead the way to my small two-room, still holding that hand in both of mine like a cherished treasure.I chuckle abashedly as I remember the open pack of morning cereal with the childish mascot printed on it that’s still on the kitchen aisle along with the matching plastic bowl which exhibits my life-long obsession with it—yet too horny to really care. I see you smile understandingly as you see it and quickly move your focus back to me who guides you to the bedroom.You kick open the half-ajar door and spin me around as it swings shut again. Harshly, you shove me against it, making the latch snap in place. I squirm from the excitement spreading through my belly as your raw strength runs through my wrists, pinning them against the thin wooden pane. Your hungry kisses devour my lips that eagerly welcome your caress. The knee that pries open my legs makes me grind my hips against your muscular thigh, seeking pressure on the right spots.Soon, I crook my head to the side, granting your lips access to my sweaty neck. Your iron grip on my wrists makes me gasp as the trail of your kisses moves down towards my collarbone. I sense how the feeling of defenselessness your powerful hands evoke makes me melt from your touch. I squirm in unmet desire as you release my wrists and fall to your knees.

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