The Sunday Sex Series

The Sunday Sex Series

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Perhaps I will tell you later how I get myself into playing his game: Sunday sex and lots of it. Certainly, I never thought I would eventually be a sexual woman, but all that has changed, especially over the course of Sundays.

Summary

Perhaps I will tell you later how I get myself into playing his game: Sunday sex and lots of it. Certainly, I never thought I would eventually be a sexual woman, but all that has changed, especially over the course of Sundays.

Chapter1 (v.1) - The first Sunday

Author Chapter Note

Perhaps I will tell you later how I get myself into playing his game: Sunday sex and lots of it. Certainly, I never thought I would eventually be a sexual woman, but all that has changed, especially over the course of these linked stories.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 03, 2010

Reads: 8509

Comments: 18

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 03, 2010

A A A

A A A

“Go on,” he whispered, but I couldn’t. I stood stock still in the doorway to the street outside, blinking at the bright light.

I couldn’t believe what he wanted me to do—this was going too far. I was wearing a light white skirt that hit me mid-thigh, the kind of skirt that you see everywhere when May hit. But it wasn’t the type of skirt you wear mid-summer when strong winds are blowing through the city and, this was most important of all: You don’t wear this type of skirt ever when you’re not wearing any underwear at all.

I shivered as the wind blew in the doorway. It was a delicious feeling, having the cold air whisper around and through my bare bottom, although I’d never have admitted that to him. I had lied to him straight through my teeth, that this felt horrible and awful and most of all, just plain wrong to be doing this in public.

“Go on,” he said again, gently tapping my bottom. This time, he said it with less patience.

I clearly wasn’t moving fast enough because his hand, quick as lightning, lifted up the back of my skirt. One of his fingers darted up my vagina and he began wriggling it around before I could lift a foot to move out onto the street. I gasped and struggled to stay standing—one of my hands clutched the doorway for support. Now, of course, I couldn’t leave the doorway because I was trapped by his sly finger.

I turned and tried to stop him, but my resistance was met with a quick slap by his other hand to my now uncovered bottom. He continued to slide his finger around in my vagina, caressing and exploring my private walls.

“You’re nice and wet,” he said, finally. “And I thought you said you were scared and wouldn’t enjoy this one bit ... ”

I shook my head vigorously, trying to concentrate on top of the sensations coming from down under. I had to convince him to let me stay inside. “Please don’t make me,” I said. “Please.”

And please, please, I thought to myself, please let no one walk by on the street right now. I could just imagine it: Someone, strolling past a cute Brownstone in the Upper East side of New York, would turn to check out the houses only to see a young woman in a doorway. On first glance, there would be nothing amiss. But on the second, the passerby might spot a shadow of a large man behind her in the doorway and see that her skirt was lifted much too high. By the third glance, the passerby would see that her hand was gripping the edge of the doorway to steady her as the man groped around her skirt, and that she was clearly trying to stifle a moan as he fingered her. A quiet Brownstone? The passerby would soon realize the real answer to that question.

He removed his finger from my vagina just as fast as he had put it in and he wiped the juice off on my bottom before dropping my skirt. I could feel the wetness of my own juices make the skirt stick to my skin in that once place. Ich.

“You just have to go buy some groceries,” he said, calmingly. He knew how nervous I was. Then his voice dropped to a slightly more warning tone, although he didn’t scare me too much. “And don’t you even thinking about wiping yourself off in any bathrooms between here and the grocery store.”

I nodded. He always knew when I cheated. And, I reminded myself, I had partly gotten myself into this.

“Now go,” he said.

I still didn’t move. I just couldn’t.

“Go now,” he hissed. “Or else we shall think of another thing for you to do next Sunday. Let me think ... what could I do? I could—”

I didn’t let him finish his sentence. This act right here was a punishment for last week. I could only imagine what my punishment for not doing this was.

It’s not that bad, I convinced myself as I stepped off the porch onto the steps. Nobody can tell. Nobody’s looking at you. You’re fine.

I turned to wave goodbye, but the front door had already shut behind me. No doubt he was watching from one of the windows.

The first block I walked, swinging my grocery bag in one hand, I encountered no one. It was actually a beautiful day outside, beside the fact that it was a little chilly in the shade despite being mid-summer in New York. It certainly was breezy, too. Maybe that was what was keeping the streets relatively clear.

Whatever it was, it’s good with me.

The next block I had to cross a stoplight, which wasn’t too bad at this time of day. The wind seemed to have died down a bit in the last few minutes. I still felt like everyone was looking at me, and everyone within a 100 yard radius could tell just by looking at me that I wasn’t wearing any underwear. Was my skirt see-through? I wasn’t even sure of that.

I crossed the street without an issue and got onto the path, a few yards behind a businessman with a briefcase walking in the same direction. I had decided to take the shortcut through the park, figuring I would encounter less people. The path was pretty quiet, too, and only the occasional biker passed me.

My heart rate calmed. No one was noticing. Everyone was too busy with their own lives to notice my apparently guilty face. I would be just fine. Briefcase Man, as I had named the businessman walking in front of me, stopped to tie his shoe. I hadn’t realized how close we had been walking, as I’d been too busy looking at all my surroundings and nervously checking people out.

I collided with his briefcase that he had set down on the pavement, and I fell onto the pavement behind me. I caught myself with my hands, but not before my bare bottom scraped the rough cement.

Ouch. At least it had not scraped a little lower, or else it would have hurt a lot more ... I quickly tried to get up on my own, but the businessman had already turned around. He leaned down and gave me his hand to pull me up.

I allowed him to do so, and as his eyes flickered downward I wondered if he caught a glimpse of my curly black below-hair. He didn’t seem to look shocked, though. Maybe he hadn’t seen! Although I had been in an almost crab-walk position when he pulled me up ...

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I should have been watching where I was going!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. His deep voice matched his classically good looks. He was tan with short curly brown hair and warm blue eyes. “I shouldn’t have stopped so suddenly.”

“Well, I guess it was both our faults,” I said, laughing to cover up the deep red flush that was settling on my chest and face.

“Where are you headed?” Briefcase Man asked.

“To the grocery store,” I said. My heart rate was settling back down again.

“Really?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “So am I. Are you going to that Safeway right through this park?”

I nodded. “I am,” I said. “What do you need so desperately at—” I checked my watch— “two o’clock on a Sunday afternoon? And in a business suit, too.”

He laughed. He had a nice laugh: It was deep and it resonated all around us.

“Sugar and cream,” he said. “I had to go in this morning to the office without grabbing my usual coffee, and now I’m craving it. But I’m out of sugar and cream, so I figured I’d stop by Safeway on my way home. And you?” he asked.

Was he asking out of politeness, because he genuinely cared, or because he’d seen my you-know-what and thought I was easy? I found myself seriously pinning my hopes on the first one. “I need milk and some lemons for dinner tonight,” I said. “That’s my story.”

To be honest, I didn’t actually know what the lemons were for because he had told me to buy them. I shivered. I had some pretty good guesses, and none of them were PG-rated although they did all sound pretty exciting for a Sunday afternoon.

“And may I inquire why you think buying milk and lemons at the grocery store doesn’t require underwear?” he said, looking down at me with his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

Shit, he noticed!

I flushed even deeper. “I didn’t think you noticed,” I said lamely.

“You gave me quite a lovely view, actually,” he corrected, grinning.

We were emerged at the cross street to get over to the Safeway. The quiet of the park was behind us, and pedestrians were coming at us from every side.

“Stay close,” he whispered, pulling me to his side and winking. “You wouldn’t want your skirt to get hooked on anyone’s purse or something, would you?”

I shook my head and felt my blush creep back again. “If you must know, it’s a dare,” I said. “Okay? So leave me alone.”

Briefcase Man nodded gravely. “I understand,” he said, holding up his hand in a scout’s pledge. “I have taken a vow to protect any damsels in distress ... whether or not they are or are not wearing underwear.”

I was still blushing furiously when we entered the Safeway. I shivered once—a tank top and a skirt left a lot of skin for the cold of the grocery store to seep in to.

Briefcase Man slipped his jacket over my shoulders in one quick move. I opened my mouth to protest, but he winked again.

“You look cold,” he said. “And your nipples coming out would just be too much for me to handle, if you get my drift.”

How did this man keep me constantly blushing? I must have looked like a tomato for the last ten minutes solid!

“So do you often accost young girls who are dressed inappropriately?” I said pointedly, trying to deflate his ego a bit.

“Don’t lie, you aren’t one to let others push you around,” Briefcase Man said jovially. “Mind you, you haven’t told me to leave once yet. Not once. And ... you did accept the dare from someone.”

He had me spot on with those two comments. We strolled up and down the aisles selecting our purchases, and he graciously carried my gallon of milk and bag of lemons to the cashier for me.

“I am sorry if I offended you,” he said, looking down at me. The twinkle had disappeared from his eyes. “I really didn’t mean to. I’ll even pay for your groceries to make it up to you.”

“You really don’t have to,” I protested. “And you didn’t offend me. Well, maybe you did, but I got over it.”

He smiled, and offered his hand for a handshake. We shook.

“I’m paying anyways,” he announced. I shrugged. It was nice of him, either way. “I’ve never left a woman unhappy.”

I chose to ignore that one. We walked out of the store together, each with our own bag of groceries.

“I’m headed this way,” he said at the corner. “Where are you going?”

I gestured back through the park. “Back that way,” I said.

He nodded again, eyes sparkling. “Well, don’t let any more strange men pay for your groceries,” he said. “There are a lot of creeps out there.”

I laughed. “Thank you anyways for the groceries,” I said. I put out my hand for a final handshake.

He grinned naughtily before pulling me in to a bone-crushing hug. “I’m Adam, by the way,” he said.

I was blushing under the cover of his arms. I knew he was pressing my chest against his in a very inappropriate way, and I could feel his response to our playful banter pressing against me.

“No names,” I said strictly, pulling away and slipping out of his jacket.

“As you wish,” he said, and slipped his jacket on with a smile. “Thanks for keeping my jacket warm,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

His grin was distinctly roguish, and he was so focused on me he almost ran into a woman walking in the other direction. I laughed and covered my mouth with my hand to stifle it.

“Good night,” I called after him, and then headed back through the park. Luckily, no one was there and the rest of the walk was rather uneventful.

I knocked on the door of his apartment, and he let me wait outside a moment or two before he opened the door. Despite that fact that it was summertime in New York, I was cold. I quickly scampered inside once he opened the door.

He caught me in his arms immediately and planted a big kiss on my forehead. He seemed to have forgotten about my unwillingness to go. “I love you,” he said. “Now wasn’t that fun?”

I giggled and pushed him away. “It wasn’t,” I said. “It wasn’t at all.”
______________________________________________________

Hi all! This is my first attempt at more hardcore erotica, so I hoped you enjoyed it. If you would like to help me improve, feel free to leave comments below. I am not yet sure if this is going to be a series, a novel, or just a bunch of short stories.

Tell me what you think!

Thanks,
liveatsixteen


© Copyright 2018 liveatsixteen. All rights reserved.

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