The Staring Contest

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Asian

“Let’s have a staring contest,” you suggest out of the blue. “What are you? Six?” I shoot back. “No,” you say, pouting cutely. “Come on, I’m bored.” ‘Bored’ doesn’t even begin to describe the situation. It’s Sunday afternoon and raining. Your military husband has been deployed for the past month. My wife’s gone out of town for her work this weekend. Neither of us has much to do. We’ve been across-the-street neighbours for just about two years. You and your husband are like the All-American couple, you know, decent, friendly folks. We get along well as couples. I’ve spent time with your husband, and I know you and my wife have your occasional girl’s nights. But I think this is the first time the two of us have ever been together in a one-on-one situation. I invited you over. There’s no point in the two of us sitting alone in two empty houses, I’d said. You agreed, and brought a bottle of wine with you. It’s gone now, and we’ve opened a second that I’ve had lying around the house for some time. We scanned Netflix, but there’s nothing interesting there that we haven’t already seen. So now we’re just hanging out, sitting on my sofa, chatting about nothing in particular, and listening to the rain. “Fine,” I say. “First to blink loses.” We turn in our seats to face each other. You shake your fingers out. I shrug my shoulders and let them fall. You roll your head around, loosening up your neck. I scrunch up my face a couple of times and let it relax. “Ready?” you ask. I nod. “Okay. Three… two… one… go.” We stare. Your eyes, it occurs to me, are really quite beautiful. They’re a stunning shade of blue, like sunlit Mediterranean pools. I know it’s only been about twenty seconds, but I’m starting to feel the weight of my eyelids, and become aware of the energy I’m expending to keep them. I can see the concentration in your face, almost as if you’re willing me to blink with your mind. “Your Jedi mind-tricks won’t work on me,” I joke. You chuckle, but maintain eye contact. You move your face closer to mine. Now my entire field of vision şişli escort is filled with you. For a brief second I have the impulse to lean in and kiss you. But I remember my wife, your husband. I tell myself I’m just being foolish. But your eyes… there’s this look in them… “OHMYGODWHAT’STHAT?!!!” you suddenly scream, pointing across the room. Instinctively, I turn my head in the direction of your arm, looking for danger. The next thing I know, you’re laughing hysterically, and I realize I’ve just lost the contest. “That’s not fair,” I say. “I won, you lost,” you say, gloating. “You’re a loo-ooo-ooo-ser.” “You totally cheated,” I argue. “Says who?” “Says me.” You get up off the couch and do a little victory dance, where you stick your butt out and wiggle it. You give the tight round denim a loud playful smack while making kissy faces at me over your shoulder. “I still think you cheated.” “Show me where it’s written,” you defend as if there’s an official rule book on staring contests sitting right there on my coffee table. There isn’t. I just sigh. “Okay, if you’re going to be a big cry-baby about it,” you tease, “then let’s go again.” “Since you cheat, let’s make it best of five.” “I don’t.” “You do.” “Fine, best of five. No holds barred.” “No holds barred,” I agree. “You’re going down, pal,” you say. I had no idea you were this competitive. “Alright, I’ll count us down this time. Ready?” “I was born ready,” you say. “You’re such a goof,” I smile at you. You smile back. “Okay… Three… TwoOneGo!” I rush the count hoping to catch you off guard. It doesn’t work. We lock eyes. Seconds pass. “WATCHOUT!” I shout suddenly. Your gaze remains steady. “Ha!” you laugh at me. “You think you can use my own strategy against me?” “It was worth a try,” I admit. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” “Yeah? You want to make this interesting?” “Sure.” “The loser gets dinner for the winner,” I propose. “You’re on.” “Shit just got real,” I say. You giggle, almost losing eye contact, but mecidiyeköy escort you recover. Seeing a potential weakness, I start making faces. It’s juvenile, but effective. I can see you’re trying hard not to laugh. Here comes my finishing move: I hook my fingers into the corners of my mouth, and pull my lips wide. Then I stick out my tongue, and make a sound like ‘nnnuuunggggeeeennnuuungggg’ at you. You totally crack up. It’s just so stupid! “That’s not fair,” you complain. “You made me laugh.” “No holds barred, remember?” I remind you. “I win.” “Whatever. Fine. We’re tied: One-one.” “Best of five.” “Ready?” You don’t even wait for me to respond. “One-two-three-go.” After only a couple of seconds of eye contact, you reach down and pull your shirt up, exposing two amazing breasts. They’re neither too large nor small, but they look perfect on your frame. In the middle of each is a delicious looking dark pink nipple. “Wow.” I’m in shock. There are no other words coming to mind. “Two to one,” you call out proudly, still holding your shirt above your chest. Clearly, you’re enjoying the attention. “But – That’s – mean… You can’t do that!” I protest. “No holds barred, remember?” You say in mocking imitation of what I told you earlier. You finally allow the material to drop back over your beautiful breasts. “But I’m married,” I object. “So?” “You’re married, too.” “So?” you ask again. “So… So…” I repeat, spinning the tires of my mind looking for traction on a coherent thought. “Come on, what’s the big deal?” you ask. “They’re just tits. I’m sure you’ve seen tits before. Your wife has a pretty big pair.” That’s true, she does. Something about the way you’re looking at me makes me feel like I’m acting like a teenager, and should grow up. So, I’ve seen your boobs. Really, what’s the harm? We’re both adults here, I tell myself. Still, there’s a nagging doubt. “Well, I don’t think they’d like it if they knew you flashed me,” I say. “They’re not here,” you refute my argument. “So there’s no reason for them to know. Stop making excuses. One more loss, and you owe me dinner.” “Alright,” I say, deciding to let my objections drop. “Three, two, one, go!” you say. Once again, I’m swimming in the lovely blue of your eyes. I can see in them that you think you’ve got me. I steel myself to stay firm in my eye-contact. I don’t care if a whole chorus line of bare-breasted women comes dancing through my living room. I will not lose. “If I’m honest,” I say, “I’ve actually kinda wanted to see them for awhile.” “Really?” You ask, sounding surprised. I’m not sure if you’re sincere or just kidding me. “Since when?” “When you and your husband first moved in,” I admit. You giggle. “That long, huh?” “I remember the day I first met you. You had your hair pulled back in a pony tail, and you were wearing that nice little dress. You know, the blue one. It kinda shows off your figure pretty nicely.” “You’ve got a good memory.” “I remember thinking, ‘Damn, that girl is fine,’ you know. But we’re both married and all, so I just kinda put the thought to the back of my mind.” “You thought I was fine?” “Mhmm. And sometimes, you know, I’d think about you in that dress and wonder what you looked like out of it.” “Well, now you know,” you say with a devilish grin. “The top half, at least.” “From what I’ve seen, your husband’s a pretty lucky guy.” “Yeah…” you say as if you want to disagree with me, but don’t quite trust what you’ll say. I keep my eyes fixed intensely on yours. You look as if you’re plotting some scheme to get me to blink first. I need to act quickly before you think of something. Without my eyes leaving your face, I lean in closer to you. “What are you doing?” you ask. I just smile mischievously back at you. I slowly reach out my hand beneath your line of sight which stays firmly on my eyes, looking into me, trying to discover my plan. Wasting no more time, I cup your breast through your shirt. You give a little shriek and look down startled to where my hand is full of your flesh. It’s beautifully soft and slightly overflows my palm. It’s quite different from my wife’s big heavy tit. Not that I’d complain about hers – they’re great – but yours are a new feeling for me. It’s a feeling I don’t mind savouring for a minute longer.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın