The Sympathy Screw | 18+

Chapter 12 - Sexual Healing

Sam practically gasped, "Violet! This is so ... unexpected. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I whispered into his ear as my hand ran over the front of his pants. He was amazingly already rock hard, and from the feel of things, quite large. Sam groaned at the feel of my caress.

Instead of starting the engine, Sam turned to me and met my lips with his own, giving me the same scorching kisses I had remembered from high school.

I moaned into his mouth and told him between kisses, "Fuck it, let's just stay right here in the parking lot! I don't want to wait that long!"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I twisted my body and climbed over his lap, straddling him. My skirt pushed up high enough that my garters and panties were visible. I rocked my body against his, letting the heat from my core rub up against that hard length with delicious friction.

Sam's mouth moved to my neck and he cupped my breasts with his hands. "Violet, I've wanted this since high school. I want to be with you, but I don't know if a truck is the best place for our first time together."  

I could feel a tingling sizzle all the way down my spine from the intensity of his hot breath on my pulse point, making my nipples tightened, against his palm.  I moaned at the feel of his hands brushing against my hardened peaks.

"Fine," I breathed, "but can we get a hotel or something? I don't want to have to drive all the way to Stamford."

"I moved here, Violet; three weeks ago. I have an apartment just outside of town. I can be there in less than twenty minutes."

I pushed off of Sam's lap and sat back in my seat, fastening my seatbelt. Fate was on our side as every stoplight along the way appeared magically green and Sam managed to drive at least five miles over the speed limit the entire way. We arrived in an underground parking structure in only ten minutes.

Sam shut off the engine and looked at me. Breathlessly, he asked, "Violet, we're really going to do this?"

For just an instant, I sat frozen. Did I really want to go through with this?

Did I trust Sam to keep this confidential? Absolutely.

Would I be able to have sex with him and trust that he wouldn't give me an unwanted sexually transmitted disease? Absolutely.

Was he a safe man to be alone with? Absolutely.

Did I believe that we would both enjoy having sex with each other? Absolutely.

"Yes," I told him.

In a surprisingly gentlemanly move, Sam got out of the truck and came around to my side of the vehicle, opening my door for me. He took my hand and led me to the elevator, punching in his floor number.

I nervously tapped my foot as the elevator began to rise, staring at the numbers. Sam squeezed my hand, smiling at me.

"I've wanted this for years, Violet," he told me, pinning my blue eyes with his own, "You're the woman of my dreams."

I smiled weakly at him, not quite sure how to reply to that statement. It was flattering, for sure, but being the woman of his dreams was a pretty high bar.  I better try to be the best sex he's ever had.

Sam leaned in and kissed me again, brushing one of my silky dark curls off my shoulder and then tangling his hand in my hair as he deepened the kiss. When the elevator chimed to let us know that we had arrived at his floor, Sam stepped back and looked into my eyes again, taking my hand in his once more. Sam led me to his door and, with shaking hands, pulled out the key and opened his apartment. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he ushered me inside, flipping on the light.

As soon as the door was closed and locked behind him, I didn't waste another second. With the force of my body, I pressed Sam's back up against the surface behind him and began kissing him, threading my fingers together around the back of his neck. When his back hit the door with a dull thud, I pressed against him harder and Sam put his hands on my ass, squeezing and cupping my cheeks. In less than a minute, my legs were fastened around Sam's hips and he had carried me and laid me down on something soft, his body nestled between my legs without putting weight on me. One of his hands was supporting his weight, but the other was firmly gripping the backside of my thigh, above where my thigh-high stocking reached, the brush of his fingertips brushing fire to my skin. As his lips moved from my lips back to my neck, I opened my eyes and looked around. I was still in the main room of Sam's apartment, which must have doubled as his bedroom, laying on a futon bed.

Not able to wait any longer, I leaned upwards towards him, sitting up slightly. "The zipper," I told him, "It's in the back."

As Sam began to unzip my dress, my fingers loosened his tie and then worked the buttons of his dress shirt open, one by one. As he got to the end of the zipper, I was on his last button. I tugged the sides of his shirt open and ran my hands along his chest. It was honestly an amazing sight, miles from the picture of his couch-surfing build I had seen two years ago on Instagram.

Sam tugged down the neckline of my plain black dress and began kissing my cleavage. I felt a flood of wet heat in my panties when his lips finally met my nipple through the lace of my black bra and I cried out his name, spurring him on further. Sam continued licking and sucking with his mouth as he tugged my dress the rest of the way off of my arms and shoulders, leaving it around my waist, having already ridden up from the skirt.

"Touch me, Sam," I urged him, pulling the hand that had returned to the back of my outer thigh towards my waiting wetness.

When his fingers caressed my center through my satin and lace panties, Sam cursed, "Fuck, you're so wet that I can feel it through these, Violet. Am I dreaming?"

Sam began massaging my clit through my wet panties, somehow knowing exactly where to touch me the right way. Unable to even answer his question, I moaned and writhed as his fingers swept across my aching center, my hands still working to undo his belt that seemed all-too-ridiculously hard to unfasten. I could feel the heat and friction of his touch with every move through the thin slippery satin.

Sam pulled the cup of my bra down on one side and began licking and sucking my nipple directly. Almost as if he could read my body, the movement of Sam's fingers picked up speed and intensity, knowing exactly how to slide his fingers against my wetness, even through the silky fabric of my panties. I began to feel the intensity building inside me at a near-exponential level, my moans increasing in their own intensity and frequency as his fingers coaxed me towards my peak.

Still unable to pull his belt open, I had finally given up and began stroking Sam through his khakis, unable to provide even a tenth of the pleasure that he was providing me, I was sure, but I was helpless to do more and wanted him to feel some of what I was experiencing. As I began to topple over what I hoped would be the first of many climaxes with him this evening, I called out his name.

Or at least I thought it was his name when I said it.

"Yes! Yes! Oh! Andrew!" I cried.

At the same time, with his mouth against my nipple, Sam told me, "Violet, I love you so much."

Record scratch.

Oh. 

 Shit.

~-~

Author's Notes:

(Sorry for the buzzkill at the end, there.)  Have you ever been romantic with one person and thinking of someone else?  I know I have, but hopefully no names have ever come out wrong.

Thanks again for taking the time to read my story.  I'd love it if you could take a moment to drop a comment💬 or a vote⭐.

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