Girl on the Net

I am squirming in my seat with delight about this week’s guest post. Innocent Loverboy (@innocentlb)is one of the first sex bloggers I ever met, way back at my first Eroticon in 2014. He’s not only a seriously lovely guy, he’s also a brilliant writer. His writing is funny, sweet, romantic, and sexy all rolled into one. Today ILB is here to tell you a story about subtle, sexy touching…

Secret, sexy touch…

“You know,” she says, “if you wanted to, you could bend me over the table and take me from behind. In fact,” she adds as I blink politely, “that’s what I want you to do. Now. Right now.”

Five minutes previously. We’re in a French restaurant and our food is taking its time to arrive. I can’t even remember what I’ve ordered but, considering it’s a French restaurant, it’s probably something that’s safe for a vegetarian diet because it’s so bland. I’d have ordered something nicer were we in France, but this is Oxford.

She is silent. For want of something to do, I’m touching her knee. She’s opposite me, looking at me; I’m looking at her, and I’ve got my hand on her knee. And, after a while, I notice that she is a little flushed.

I raise an eyebrow and start to trace delicate little circles with my finger. Nothing else. Just little circles, running my fingertip over the sheer silk of her tights, following the curve. Circle back to the start. And again. And again. And again.

She bites her lip.

Don’t stop, her eyes tell me, as they sparkle in my direction. I know we’re in a public place. And I know she’s thinking the very same thing. But I’m not in a position to touch her anywhere else. So I keep circling her knee. Repetitively. Holding her gaze as I do so.

Thirty seconds later and I realise that I can’t stop. I’ve built up so much inertia that it would hurt to do so… but there are unexpected benefits. This is a slow burn, and I’m building her up, ever so slightly, one circle at a time. I can practically hear her crackling in her seat, and while it would be undeniably rude to end up having full-on sex in this polite little restaurant, it would be more so to just let go. Another glance at the fire in her eyes reminds me that this is not an option.

She grips the table edge with a hand, while the other covers her mouth. I can see her knuckles whiten.

Keep going, says her body.

One more circle, my nail scraping her tights. This one doesn’t just touch her knee… it takes in half an inch of her thigh as well.

She goes bright red and taps the table several times with her free hand. I let go. Her composure is as prim as it has ever been, but she’s glowing. It takes me a few seconds before I realise that I have, in fact, brought her to orgasm with a single finger. In public. Surrounded by people. And all I did was touch her knee.

“Did you… did you come?” I whispered, leaning forwards so nobody else can hear. “Just now? Really?”
She nods, with the merest hint of a shiver.

“You know,” she says, “if you wanted to, you could bend me over the table and take me from behind. In fact,” she adds as I blink politely, “that’s what I want you to do. Now. Right now.”

We’re waiting for our food, so I had better not.

The food comes shortly after she has. I don’t care what it is. We eat, pay, and get the bus back home. Her shoes come off in the corridor, and her soaked pants go straight into the laundry basket. We run upstairs, kiss, and have sex on the floor. We don’t even make it to the bed.