Wet Your Lips *Here*: August 2007

[This is Part I of a post, Part II is directly beneath... and *loaded* with pics. Both are currently works in progress, but I couldn't bear keepings these photos all to myself any longer! ]

Update:
I always wanted a story to go with these pics...just been too busy doing other writing to make time for it.
So here's a *lipsticked cheer* (pom-poms and all!) to Rotorhead for making that time for me. Thanks muchly for the *delicious* inspiration darlin'! And for making my inbox a tantalising anticipation for the end of the day. Your reward is tailormade photosets to go with some of your other jaw-droppingly arousing tales.

For the time being, as regards the narrative of Parts I and II of this shoot, let's say this is precisely what the heroine of the tale did upon arrival home from the mall. Methinks it was not only her "victim" who needed to let off steam after all the excitement ;-)

Enjoy!

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Ah yes, game day!

As we tally the scores, Becka is pouting ‘cause I obviously won today.

Maybe I should explain - starting from a bet Becka and I had (sleepovers can be such a delicious source of naughty ideas!), once a month or so we spend exactly 4 hours hour teasing and tormenting our way through the mall.

The game is simple, be as playful as you want to be, and keep score honestly. But most important, remember the details, ‘cause these are so much fun to relive later.

Today, I’m going with my trump card, the cheerleader outfit. Becka has one also, but she chose the short skirt and tube top with the high heels, her go-to outfit, she says it makes her look like a porn star, I think they make my feet hurt. She is such a dear friend, and I love watching her work. But not today, this is war (nice, soft war of course).

So here’s how we decided to score things.

First, these apply to “targets” only, since we obviously get attention from all over and keeping score was just a nightmare. And men, no boys (they’re too easy). 30 and older was the goal, though the older ones are so much more fun. They’ve been drug to the mall against their will, the least we could do is give them a little excitement.

Initial glances = 0

Second glances = 1 point

Smiles = 1 point

Route diversions = 2 points (when your target changes course to get closer to you)

Brush past = 3 (when he makes a course correction to get close enough for physical contact)

Secondary encounter = 5 (when he finds a reason to be in the same store with you at least 10 minutes later than the first contact). Also, a second brush past at this time is double the score. This usually means he’s trying to follow you. This is when the fun really begins!

Groin adjustment = 5 points – we know we’re getting to him, his pants are getting, uhm, uncomfortable.

Angry spouse/girlfriend look = 5 points

Angry spouse/girlfriend verbal reprimand = 10 points

Extended visit to the men’s room = 25 points

Some days, we just go for as many new contacts and lots of small victories. But today, I found one I particularly liked, and he was my plaything for the entire time. Generally, they end up leaving for the parking lot long before my time window is up, but today this one was here for the entire time, and I had him right where I wanted him.

Becka and I arrived around one, just in time to catch the crowds filtering out of the food court and into the stores. We always make a big deal of giggling and touching each other, just to see who may nibble at the bait. That’s when I saw him. He was with his wife, she was pleasant enough, but obviously focused on doing some serious damage to the credit card, and he had the expression of wanting to be almost anywhere else on the planet than at the mall with a billion screaming teenagers. That was, of course, till he saw me. Becka and I were walking side by side, touching at the arms, our soft hair cascading down the gentle curve of our bare shoulders, leaning our heads near to each other, whispering. I saw him notice us, and I whispered “dibs”. Best call I ever made. Becka said she thought he was a little too plain, but I thought differently, I liked the way he held my gaze. Then he glanced away to see which way his wife was going, then looked back and smiled – just like that, 2 points.

The next few hours were heaven. Becka even had to follow me sometimes ‘cause she actually thought I was fibbing on the score keeping! How could I already have over a hundred points in three hours and still going for more?

I filled her in on the details: He made contact in two different stores, each time finding an excuse to ‘squeeze’ past my tight little bum while his hand gently touched my waist. I noticed he was most bold after I made a quick stop in the little girls’ room to put on some fresh lipstick. Today I went dark, maybe a bit too Goth, but I thought it would be fun to contrast the cutesy cheerleader outfit with something a bit more powerful. Always keep ‘em guessing is my motto. From then on, he was almost puppy-like, but not in a creepy way, just genuinely enjoying the show I was giving him. The best part was the eye contact, he seemed to be able to match my gaze, most boys have to look away when I stare them down. Men are different.

On his first pass, I only leaned back against him slightly and up on my toes, and gave just a little wiggle. I felt him respond by leaning toward me, and I felt his face brush through my soft hair. That was enough to send him the back of the store for the men’s room. The timing was too coincidental, so I took the points. The second time was a dead-lock. I was waiting in line when he tried to …squeeze past…, and I bent over to check my shoe lace and as he went, I grabbed his hand and placed a perfect, wet lip print on his palm, followed by a soft, slippery little lick. How could he not want to take complete advantage of that? Another trip to the little boy’s room, and another batch of points for sweet little me.

At the end, I tried something new. I had Dave’s full attention – he was in front of me in the pet store, pretending to look at puppies from the inside of the store, but in reality he was looking straight through the glass and staring at me. I knew his name ‘cause his wife barked it out once while he was watching me climb a stepstool to get a purse down from a high shelf. The curt tones that followed his name got me another 15 points! He watched intently as I applied the absolute shiniest lip gloss over my already dark shade, making my mouth simply swim with wetness. Then, since I’d already identified his obvious oral fixation, I leaned over and whisper to Becka “watch this.” This sweet, innocent little cheerleader pulled a long, white cigarette from her purse, placed it carefully in her mouth, lit it, and took a slow, deep drag. When I pulled it away from my mouth, I watched his eyes jump back and forth from the cigarette with my lip prints on it to my mouth filled with creamy white smoke contrasting against my dark lips. “God, look how he’s breathing,” Becka said. “It’s like he’s having an orgasm right in front of us.” “Not yet,” I smiled, “but in about 1 minute…”. The exhale was highlighted by my adjusting my seating position to slowly uncross my legs and, eyes closing, leaning back, like I was trying to relax. This pulled my skirt up just another inch or so, and he could make out the faint outline of this bad little college cheerleader who had simply forget to put on her delicates back on after a trip to the changing room! I opened my eyes and stared directly at him, and with another graceful motion I brought the cigarette to my mouth, and in a painfully slow, deliberate motion, wrapped my lips around it, took a drag and, with a little smile, blew the smoke his direction. “Wow, you really have him, don’t you?” Becka said. Then, with a very small change in the position of his hips, we watched in fascination as he obviously released the pressure that this ever-so-naughty cheerleader had built up inside him, and a very embarrassing wet spot appeared on the front of his slacks. “Did you just get him off without even a touch?” she laughed?

“How may points is that worth?” I giggled back.

Since Becka now owed me a pizza ‘cause of him, I decided to swing by the pet store, maneuver up next to him, and get up on my sweet little tippy-toes give him a nice little kiss on the cheek, while my pretty little hand gave him a teasing squeeze right where it did the most good.

“Dave, what the hell are you doing with her?” A shout from the back of the store… wheee, 15 more points!

Oh my, was it a good day at the mall today…I wonder if I’ll see Dave again.