I reach up and grab his face in both my hands. “Sometimes
I say things.” I tell him. “Don’t freak out.”
His skin is sooo nice. I like his lips. His
breath smells like beer and candy. I see him come to some
conclusion. Now he’s leaning down.
My body gets tingly. My nipples get hard. Oh my
God, I think, what the fuck am I doing? Now Qasim's lips are on
mine. His tongue presses into my mouth. We’re making those gross,
mouth noises as he backs me up against the wall. I angle my hips up
to him. He groans. That wasn’t so squeaky. And soon he’s got those
long, long fingers on my hips. His right hand moves down my thigh
and lifts it up. Oh God this feels good. I wrap my leg around him
and he lifts me by my waist, moving his pelvis forward so that my
area rests on his area. I let out a noise that’s something like a
whimper as I run my hands through his hair. It’s silky and soft.
Holy Fuck, what am I doing? His hands are under my shirt on my
abdomen. My jacket feels way too bulky as I press my chest into
him. My messenger bag is in the way of those hands. He’s hard, holy
shit, he’s hard and big, I can feel it through my jeans. I rub up
against him and open my eyes. I see the vomit and piss on the
floor. I notice the fluorescent lights and the cigarette butts.
He’s still all groping hands and slobbery kisses. I pull back which
isn’t very effective as I’m up against the wall.
“Dude.” I say around his tongue.
“Uh.” He goes. His hands squeeze my sides then
my thighs, as he thrusts his hips and his cock into me through our
clothes.
“Not here man.” I say.
Qasim pulls back. “Where?”
I shrug, and stroke his face, giving in to the
moment. I guess I'm going to do this thing. “Your
place?"
He sighs, squeezing my hips and presses his
erection into me again before putting me down. “You’re not gonna
want to.” He squeaks. “I’ll take you there, and on the way we’ll
talk, and you’ll sober up. You won’t want to. It’s my
voice.”
Hmm, perceptive, I look down at his mouth and
back to his eyes. “That’s just a chance you’ll have to take, Qasim,
because I’m not fucking you in this pissy stairwell by a glass
door. Maybe we don’t talk much, huh? Maybe you keep your hands...”
I stop, stretching my face up to get my tongue in his mouth. I move
his left hand between my legs and press it there, hard. Qasim
exhales. I move my mouth down to his neck and kiss it, knowing I'm
being way too easy and not caring in the least. Now I run my teeth
over his skin bearing down just a little. I leave his hand on my
va-jay-jay, and move mine to his cock which is pressing firmly into
his jeans. He sighs, moving his long, excellent fingers
rhythmically over my sweet spot. There is a sound from above. The
door is opening, “Fuck.” I giggle, pulling back. I open the glass
door. “Let’s go.”
Qasim grins and rushes out after me. He wraps
his arms around me from behind. I feel him against my back. We walk
awkwardly like that for a few paces, both of us giggling stupidly.
Jesus, I think, what if he’s right? How awkward will that be if I
get him home and don’t want to fuck him? “Hot damn, its cold.” I
say.
Qasim steps around to the side of me. He opens
his mouth to reply but thinks better of it. Instead he nuzzles his
face into my neck, trying to give me a hickey as we move forward. I
giggle. It’s slow going to walk and make out at the same time, but
its fun. Its also cold, damn cold. My nipples are painfully hard.
Qasim notices. He grabs one.
“Ow.” I’m looking out over the empty sidewalk.
There’s the shadow! I watch it cross the street, while Qasim the
squeaky lead singer of Condition, teases my left nipple and I
almost fail to notice the yellow cab. Almost. “Hey!” I yell
flailing my arm, “cab!”
Qasim detaches himself from my neck as the cab
pulls over. We run to meet it. I scramble in first and He folds his
extra long body in after me. My God I want to grab his
I say things.” I tell him. “Don’t freak out.”
His skin is sooo nice. I like his lips. His
breath smells like beer and candy. I see him come to some
conclusion. Now he’s leaning down.
My body gets tingly. My nipples get hard. Oh my
God, I think, what the fuck am I doing? Now Qasim's lips are on
mine. His tongue presses into my mouth. We’re making those gross,
mouth noises as he backs me up against the wall. I angle my hips up
to him. He groans. That wasn’t so squeaky. And soon he’s got those
long, long fingers on my hips. His right hand moves down my thigh
and lifts it up. Oh God this feels good. I wrap my leg around him
and he lifts me by my waist, moving his pelvis forward so that my
area rests on his area. I let out a noise that’s something like a
whimper as I run my hands through his hair. It’s silky and soft.
Holy Fuck, what am I doing? His hands are under my shirt on my
abdomen. My jacket feels way too bulky as I press my chest into
him. My messenger bag is in the way of those hands. He’s hard, holy
shit, he’s hard and big, I can feel it through my jeans. I rub up
against him and open my eyes. I see the vomit and piss on the
floor. I notice the fluorescent lights and the cigarette butts.
He’s still all groping hands and slobbery kisses. I pull back which
isn’t very effective as I’m up against the wall.
“Dude.” I say around his tongue.
“Uh.” He goes. His hands squeeze my sides then
my thighs, as he thrusts his hips and his cock into me through our
clothes.
“Not here man.” I say.
Qasim pulls back. “Where?”
I shrug, and stroke his face, giving in to the
moment. I guess I'm going to do this thing. “Your
place?"
He sighs, squeezing my hips and presses his
erection into me again before putting me down. “You’re not gonna
want to.” He squeaks. “I’ll take you there, and on the way we’ll
talk, and you’ll sober up. You won’t want to. It’s my
voice.”
Hmm, perceptive, I look down at his mouth and
back to his eyes. “That’s just a chance you’ll have to take, Qasim,
because I’m not fucking you in this pissy stairwell by a glass
door. Maybe we don’t talk much, huh? Maybe you keep your hands...”
I stop, stretching my face up to get my tongue in his mouth. I move
his left hand between my legs and press it there, hard. Qasim
exhales. I move my mouth down to his neck and kiss it, knowing I'm
being way too easy and not caring in the least. Now I run my teeth
over his skin bearing down just a little. I leave his hand on my
va-jay-jay, and move mine to his cock which is pressing firmly into
his jeans. He sighs, moving his long, excellent fingers
rhythmically over my sweet spot. There is a sound from above. The
door is opening, “Fuck.” I giggle, pulling back. I open the glass
door. “Let’s go.”
Qasim grins and rushes out after me. He wraps
his arms around me from behind. I feel him against my back. We walk
awkwardly like that for a few paces, both of us giggling stupidly.
Jesus, I think, what if he’s right? How awkward will that be if I
get him home and don’t want to fuck him? “Hot damn, its cold.” I
say.
Qasim steps around to the side of me. He opens
his mouth to reply but thinks better of it. Instead he nuzzles his
face into my neck, trying to give me a hickey as we move forward. I
giggle. It’s slow going to walk and make out at the same time, but
its fun. Its also cold, damn cold. My nipples are painfully hard.
Qasim notices. He grabs one.
“Ow.” I’m looking out over the empty sidewalk.
There’s the shadow! I watch it cross the street, while Qasim the
squeaky lead singer of Condition, teases my left nipple and I
almost fail to notice the yellow cab. Almost. “Hey!” I yell
flailing my arm, “cab!”
Qasim detaches himself from my neck as the cab
pulls over. We run to meet it. I scramble in first and He folds his
extra long body in after me. My God I want to grab his
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