Go Fish...Part Three

By Lillian





Opportunity came after his match when he spotted Miranda walking away from the locker room. A quick glance told him no one else was nearby. He jogged up to her and grabbed her in an arm lock and dragged her through the locker room door. "Help!" she tried to yell out, but he clamped a hand over her mouth. "Anyone here?" he heard his voice echo off the walls. No one. Good. Not bothering to lock the door he pulled his fuming friend over to the row of lockers farthest from the door. She was struggling like crazy, especially trying to kick him in the crotch.

With an echoing thud, she was pushed up against the row of lockers, her cheek resting on the cold surface. She could feel the length of Chris's body against her back. Mentally, she was cursing herself for not being more careful. If there was one thing her friend was good at, it was getting revenge. "Chris," she said, trying to appeal to his sensible side. "The door is unlocked, someone might come in any minute." His arm moved away from its position around her waist and his hand caressed her bottom. "I know. That's what makes it so exciting." She read his lips as he moved his head around so that his was level with hers. "I can feel your heart. It's beating fast. Do I excite you? Well, you excite me, can't you feel?" And she could feel it. The hardness against her hip. She felt a surge of power, feminine power, at the knowledge that she had done this to him.

Inadvertently, she closed her eyes to focus on the feelings, and Chris took that as surrender. He swept her hair away from her shoulder and neck, and she felt the cool air hit her skin. Then his warm breath danced over it. The anticipation was like she had never felt before. His lips touched the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and electricity flew through her nerves, through her blood, and through her body. Her skin tingled where he touched it. Chris moved his mouth over her neck, alternating between gentle kisses and rough, passionate ones. Not able to stand it anymore, he turned her around so he could ravage her neck. The one thing she thought was so sexy about him was that his hair was long...and now she found that she considered the beard very, very sexy. The sensation caused by his beard scraping her neck mingled in with the others.

Miranda moaned throatily and rested her hands on his broad, muscular shoulders for support. Finally, his lips came to a rest on her mouth. The kiss was slow and hard, full of barely restrained passion. She took his bottom lip in between her teeth and gently nibbled on it. Then she angled her head so she could kiss him full on and poke her tongue in the hot, wet cavity. Chris groaned into her mouth and moved her away from the lockers to the bench. It was only 12 inches wide! But the thrill of what they were doing, where they were doing it, was enough to supress all rational thoughts. He lowered her onto the bench, and she discovered that she had nowhere to rest her legs. Chris took care of that by straddling the bench in front of her and resting her legs on his widespread thighs.

In this position, she was vulnerable. She didn't like being vulnerable. But she trusted Chris. He met her eyes, both seeing desire written in them. He rested his palms on her calves, keeping them there, a constant warmth, as if asking permission. When she didn't say anything or do anything to move from the exposed position she was in, he accepted her okay. "Just say the word, and I'll stop." Ever the gentleman. Miranda was surprised to discover she was holding her breath in anticipation. The warm hands on her calves started to rub the soft skin in circular motions. She was being lulled to sleep. In a half-foggy brain, she felt the hands move up her legs. Up the outside of her thighs, gently sliding her skirt up to her waist.

Chris felt like he had been hit by a train. She was wearing black panties. But these weren't your run-of-the-mill black panties. These were lace. They were boy-cut, high on the waist and going down crotch-level. There was a see through Vee covered in filmsy black material that showed a peek of skin on her lower belly. Suddenly, he wanted to be inside her, fucking her senseless, hearing her scream his name as they fell over the edge. But he forced himself to remain under control. His hands moved to glide on the skin on the back of her legs.

Miranda gasped at the ticklish feeling. When he got to the back of her knees, he remembered an episode of Ally McBeal he had seen once. Smiling devilishly, he stayed on that spot, gliding his fingers around it, at times applying more pressure. He hit the spot right there. She nearly arched off the bench. "Chris..." she gasped. Liquid heat pooled in her groin and soaked her panties. "What are you feeling when I touch you here? Tell me or I'll stop." He threatened. She struggled to think clearly, but failed. "It feels like you're touching me here," she touched the now-wet panties. "But you're not." With a groan, Chris abandoned the new erotic g-spot he had just discovered (feeling quite pleased that it had been him who had discovered it) and turned his attentions to her inner-thighs. He ran his hands over every inch, always avoiding the juncture. He elicted deep moans of want from her. He knew that he had her under his control. Gently, he pressed two fingers to her crotch, and felt the wetness there. She was hot for him. The long-awaited touch brought relief and even more pleasure for her.

Chris started rubbing his hands and palms against her cunt in an oscillation of hardness and gentleness. Her voice was echoing off the walls, and he wondered briefly if anyone would walk in. She sure was very vocal...how loud would she get when they were doing the real thing? He put his other hand over her mouth, quieting her. He continued to bring her to the edge, then abruptly stopped. He got up off the bench and looked down at her questioning glare. Her lipstick was smudged, her hair tousled wildly, her skirt up around her waist, her legs spread wide open provocatively, and her eyes at half-mast with desire. Chris had never seen a sexier woman. He signed to her, . Then he walked away, smirking. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. * Are you an idiot, Irvine?* he shook his head * you had a woman ready and very, very willing, and you walked away!!* Perhaps he had gotten one too many blows to the head. He looked down at his hard-on and sighed resignedly. He needed to take a very cold, cold shower. Soon.