Trivial Pursuits Ch. 14

She stood breathing heavily over the sink, staring at her flushed face, wondering what she was afraid of when his touch made her feel greater than anything else she had ever experienced. Much to her private embarrassment, she cleaned herself of the copious amounts of liquid arousal their kissing session had created.

While Alessa regrouped in the bathroom, Denny stood in the open door of the freezer, allowing the ice burn to cool his boiling body. It was going to be a long weekend.

*******

"Huh, and is that a common theme, do you find?"

"What is that?" Alessa asked as she crunched on her popcorn and chocolate covered raisins. After she had returned from the bathroom, they had made floats together, the air filled with the unresolved sexual tension. Bbut Denny had done his best to make her smile with his teasing manner. They then settled on the couch where they had for the last three hours watched one of Alessa's favorite Korean shows. They had eventually moved on to popcorn and chocolates, though he noticed she still grabbed only the smallest amount. As they wouldn't be able to watch all the episodes that night, Alessa was enumerating the many trials the main heroine would go through in order to support the man she loved, and Denny had begun to question its similarity to other shows she watched.

"You know, how the main character is very self-sacrificing with a quiet strength that doesn't reveal itself in the face of hardships."

Alessa cocked her head. "I suppose, yeah, that does happen a lot, in various forms. Which makes sense though, right? The honor and dignity and yet at the same time the humbleness."

Denny nodded in agreement, quietly wondering about her attraction to such characters. It was nearing midnight when Denny suggest a change in entertainment.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Like I said, I have some games we could play."

She eyed him speculatively. She opened her mouth to say something he guessed would be of the objecting nature, and raised an eyebrow at her in warning, silently reminding her about her agreement to not be so argumentative.

"Okay, what games?"

"Well I have that block tower game where you remove a piece at a time and set it on top without knocking the tower over. Or cards; we could play poker," he suggested.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. She thought he had said they were adult games, but those didn't seem too bad. "Okay, how about the tower game."

Denny gave a wolfish half grin. "Good choice." He hopped up to get it and instructed they should sit around his coffee table. She settled on one of the large floor pillows, watching him as he curiously continued grinning like that cat with the cream.

"So this one is...altered," he began explaining as he kneeled across from her, pulling the blocks in the tower form carefully from the box. When it was all set up, he took a top block off and showed her the handwritten instructions on the block. "I took the time to write on quite a few of them. Not all of them, but a lot, special instructions for the player to complete."

Alessa sat up straighter, preparing for the worst.

"As you can read on this one, 'Give your opponent a one-minute kiss on the body part of your choice' you have to fulfill the written instructions. Some are fairly easy, like confess something, while others...require more and are therefore more challenging. Got it?"

He could see her expression, on the edge of fear and excitement. One beat. Then two. "Okay, I'll try. Penalty for not completing?"

He shrugged, "I guess you could just be declared the instant loser, but where's the fun in that? Why not push yourself to the edge?" That wolfish grin was back and she could feel her stomach dropping and her nerves firing up.

Another nod. "Okay, I promise to complete whichever one I draw."

"That's my girl," he praised, and then offered to go first. She watched him intently, a hidden smile tightening the corners of her mouth at the bubbles she felt from hearing him praise her.

The first he drew had nothing written on it, but the first she drew did. She wondered vaguely if he somehow knew which was which, but doubted he would cheat. She narrowed her eyes as she recalled how he had switched her contract, but still read the tile, vowing she would perform whatever was written there.

"Remove a piece of your opponent's clothing," she read aloud, trying to suppress an embarrassed smile.

Denny chuckled and sat back, allowing her easy access to his body. With a sigh, she stood and walked over to his side. She eyed him just a moment before saying, 'Okay, take off your shirt."

"Well, now if you read that correctly, I think you are supposed to remove the article of clothing, not me."

She was really fighting the smile now. "Fine," she huffed and kneeled down next to him. She wrinkled her nose at his smirk, knowing how much he was enjoying her misery. She reached for the bottom of his tee and pulled up. He was cooperative, at least, holding his arms up so she could pull it over his head. But to do the job properly, she had to reach around him more, moving her closer, and when the material cleared past his head, she was face to face with him, her breath catching as a result.

Then she blinked and cleared her throat. "There," she said, resuming her position on the other side of the table. He was still smirking, but not quite as much as before, and he leaned forward to take his turn. A few more for both of them with nothing, and then he pulled one with the black scrawl.

"Nibble your opponent's ear," he read, causing Alessa's stomach to drop in excitement.

"Just one?" she asked without thinking, only to blush when he chuckled at her.

"Oh, I can give you more if you ask," he replied with a devilish smile and then he was on his hands and knees, stalking around the table. She thought if he had been a jungle cat she would have been in dubious trouble. And then he was beside her, his hot breath cascading down the side of her neck, his mouth hovering above her. As she sat still, she was alight with nerves, her skin anticipating his lips on her like a memory in reverse. And then there was just the lightest whisper of his lips at the base of her neck, and then they were sliding up and up to the very sensitive spot on the backside of her ear. She was certain she felt a scrape of his teeth against her before his lips kissed her ear lobe, his warm breath flooding inside, heating her head. His kisses turned to biting suckles, sending ribbons of dancing electricity up her spine to shatter on her scalp. And then one sharp nip at the very tip of her ear lobe.

He pulled away and she nearly fell over leaning into him. She righted herself before she made too big of an embarrassment of herself. She cleared her throat again.

Alessa felt she should say something. "Thank you," was all her dazzled little mind could come up with. He chuckled, amused, and then placed a quick peck on the curve of her jaw.

"Welcome," he said before returning to his side.

When she reached forward for a new tile, she saw how badly her hand was shaking, an obvious side effect of his teasing kisses. At first she was about to raise objection of unfair advantage by what he had done to her, but then she realized, the handicap could go both ways, if she was willing to put herself into it enough to win.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and drew the next block. It had nothing, and then neither did his, but on her next turn her stomach leapt when she saw writing. She smiled ruefully at him until she read what was there.

"Choose to give or receive a three-minute lap dance from your opponent," she murmured distraught. That was perhaps a little more risqué than she had been prepared to be in order to win. But then she looked up at Denny who was smirking yet again. Big meanie didn't think she could do it. "Fine," she said with a challenge and a determined set of her chin. "Sit up there on that chair," she instructed.

Denny's smirk faded a little, but didn't lose that hungry edge. He did as she instructed, sitting on a wide post-modern arm chair adjacent to the couch. He leaned back, stretching out to make room on his lap for her. She stood and walked slowly to him, instantly feeling herself about to balk. Sitting relaxed in confident repose, his bared body was a little intimidating, defined with lust-inducing muscles.

"Close your eyes," she said.

He lifted an eyebrow in question, as if to challenge that that wasn't part of the rules of the tile she had drawn. "If you want this lap dance, then you'll do as I say. You can't watch. Close your eyes."

Denny wanted to argue that part of the eroticism of a lap dance was to watch the body writhe sensually on top of him, but he figured this was as good as a beginning as he could hope for. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes and waited to feel her settle on him. He did hear her mutter, "This is going to be the worst lap dance ever," before her weight settled gingerly on his lap.

For a moment all was quiet and still, but he did nothing to urge her along, knowing she would do better at her own pace. And then she leaned back against him, her back to his bare chest. He felt the luxurious weight of her hair against his skin, and held a moan from the pleasure of it. He felt her gather it up, as if moving it all out of her way over a shoulder. He could tell her face was turned to his as her cheek was against his chest and couldn't stop the impulse to incline his face to her. Then he felt her hands lay atop his on the arm rest. There was a sound like clearing her throat and then a soft exhalation of air.

And then she began to move.

It was small and disjointed at first as she found the movements and then the pressure and pace that made it less awkward. She shifted a little, taking off some of her weight, and when she did so, he felt his quickly springing erection readjust to tent in his pants. And then her firm bottom was pressing against it.

He felt her reaction to his stiffened state, a fractured pause and then a slow and deliberate grind against him, her hips rolling back and forth with purpose and determination. He didn't bother stopping the groan even as he did control his hips from pressing back into her. Her breath was slowly building, either from the exertion of her performance or her own building arousal, or both. He could feel her back arch off him as her hips angled forward, no doubt positioning to grind her own pleasure-seeking sex perfectly against his crotch. Her face was nuzzling into his chest as best as she could manage from her angle, and when he felt her lips graze the underside of his jaw, he instinctually sought her mouth with his. But he was disappointed to only feel her breath as she moved just out of reach. And with one more hard press, she shoved herself off his lap.

He growled in frustration and opened his eyes. Her back was to him as she quickly scurried to the other side of the table. She was clearing her throat and winding her hair over her shoulder as if to order her appearance. She wiped under her eyes before she looked up at him.

"Your turn," she said in a forced cheeriness.

Denny was breathing a little hard from the most unprofessional and yet the best lap dance he had ever had. He sat a moment longer to regain what control he could, shocked at her ability to override her doubtless embarrassment so she could dance erotically against him.

"I won't bother telling you how well you did," he intoned in a hoarse voice.

"Yes, I think I can see all the evidence I need," she quipped eyeing the bulge in his pants. He chuckled.

"Touché." He resumed his seat, if a little affectedly, and resumed the game. "Feed your opponent a glass of wine from your mouth," he read, and then his eyes moved challengingly to hers.

She flushed as she watched him stand and go to the kitchen, returning not a minute later with a glass of deep burgundy. She eyed him.

"I don't know about this," she began, not certain if that sounded sexy or gross.

He raised an eyebrow. "You promised to do everything."

"Yeah, everything on my tile, not on yours," she countered legalistically. But then after another long stare, she surrendered. "Fine. How do you want to do this?"

He only smiled as he sat next to her, resting on one hand and bending his outside leg up to rest the other arm holding the glass. "Lean back," he commanded gently. And she did, resting against the chaise at the end of the couch behind her. It was the perfect distance for her head to fall back in repose and low enough for him to reach over her. He leaned forward, brushing his mouth against hers.

"You don't have any wine in your mouth," she whispered, somehow feeling as though the real challenge of the game was not to succumb to his seduction.

He shushed her, rubbing his lips over hers until they parted. "Don't move," he whispered, bringing the glass to his mouth and taking a drink or two. Then taking a small amount in his mouth, he leaned over her, her eyes nearly slumberous as they watched him. Again, their lips touched gently, hers parted under the lightest of pressure from his, and slowly, carefully, Denny cracked his lips so the now-warm libation could slip from his mouth to hers. It wasn't the same as if she were taking a sip, more like a general wetting of her mouth and her tongue stroked the excess fluid away. And then his lips left hers, only to return again.

With the pattern and their mutual competencies now established, she opened her mouth to allow his lips to rub tenderly over hers and then part to slip her a little more of the liquid. After another passing of the fluid, his lips and tongue lingered to enjoy the flavor of the wine and her mouth. Over and over it was that he would take in the wine only to pass it to her, and mix the sharing with slow kisses and strokes of their tongues. With the last of the wine gone, Denny reluctantly disengaged himself from his sultry opponent and returned to his side of the table.

"Your turn." If the previous exchanges had left her rattled and anxious for more and escape, his last kiss had left her drowsed and seduced. Her eyes were changed, slanted and dangerous.

"So it is," she murmured, staring at him. As the tower was becoming filled with holes, she prodded and pushed gingerly until one slipped out of place. "Name one place you would be willing to receive oral satisfaction in public." She blinked. And then giggled. She looked up at him before placing her tile at the top of the tower. She was smiling slyly. "Hmm," she mused, making a big production of thinking about it. "In a private theatre box during a performance of Swan Lake during the death scene."

Denny was smiling and broke out into a full chuckle. "That's quite specific, Sweetheart."

She shrugged a shoulder and looked down at the game. "What can I say? The music is very...climactic?" She smiled at her cleverness.

Denny full out laughed. "Yes, that it is. Okay, my turn."

He drew nothing, and then for his next two turns he drew only blank tiles, as did she on one turn. But then her next turn she maneuvered a tile out leaving the tower to stand precariously on only a cross-intersection of two tiles. She looked down to read her tile and then slid her eyes slowly up to his.

He wondered which one she drew as her face was instantly flushed and she looked quite frightened.

"Make either yourself or your opponent come," she breathed quietly.

Any humor that may have been on Denny's face melted as he realized the incredible discomfort she must have been feeling. He was instantly moved to declare she didn't have to complete the task if it was too much, only having written it in his wildest hopes that somehow they might be further along by that point. But before he could say anything, she reached a trembling hand out to place the tile at the top of the tower. It was a move with unquestionable meaning.

Challenge accepted.

Her face was solemn when she looked at him. "Will you sit on the chair again?" she requested in a shaky voice.

Denny couldn't move, his already half-hardened body instantly swelling to full status in those few short seconds that passed as they stared at each other. The edge of fear that had first been present in her expression had eroded away to mere solemnity, calm and cool. She waited expectantly as the air slowly returned to his lungs.

"If that is what you want," he managed to say, not wanting her to back out, not wanting to force her and not wanting to move until he felt strength return to him.

"I agreed to not only keep an open mind, but to do everything, didn't I? Well, I think I should. And," she hesitated before finishing with determination, "I want to."

He had no thoughts left in his head, so simply nodded once and stood to slip back onto the chair. Again, neither moved as she mentally collected herself, the enormity of what she was about to do settling hard and fast in the pit of her stomach. And then, in the spirit of the game, she slowly slinked on hands and knees over to him, mustering as much allure as she could, though it all felt like a mockery.

She stopped in front of him, gazing up into his face, somewhat pleased, somewhat uncertain at the rather intense and decidedly not-cocky expression on his face.

"I've never done this," she admitted. "I mean, I touched my boyfriend's..."

"Penis," he supplied.

"Yes-"

"Or shaft." She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off again. "Or erection, or dick." He was staring into her blinking, flustered gaze. He slowly said, "Cock," allowing the word to roll off his tongue.

"Yes! That's fine. Penis will work. Anyway, I touched his penis, but I don't think we got far, at least, not far enough or often enough to really have learned anything," she rambled looking around, suddenly without her false bravado.

Denny leaned down so his face was just inches from hers, drawing her attention to him. "Trust me, you can't do it wrong." He leaned in just a millimeter more, and she leaned forward for his kiss. His lips lingered there, his gaze drifting down to her mouth, and then he sat back, waiting.

She blinked. Alessa reached her hands forward and then stopped, looking up at him questioningly. "Should I..." but he merely raised his eyebrows, as if challenging. A clear indication if ever she'd had one. Slowly her hands reached for the waist of his pajama pants. Even as he was, she could see the large ridge in his pants indicative of his fully aroused state.

Her fingertips grazed the skin of his abdomen. He felt warm, she noted distractedly. The furthest edge of her fingers caught the fabric and unhurriedly pulled them down his body. Alessa could feel his erection begin to bunch the fabric as she neared his groin. Any second, she was going to have to pull his pants away from his body so his penis could spring free. But that moment would be a point of no return, a vision she couldn't unsee, an action she couldn't undo.

Denny's breathing was changing, she realized, becoming shallower, more rapid. Though the embarrassment was heavy, her eyes flicked up to his, and as they gazed at one another, she slowly pulled the waistband away from his body. There was movement within his pants, and when he gave a small undulation of his body, she knew his erection was visible. A moment of hesitancy as she gathered courage and then her eyes trailed down his chest, over the ripples of his stomach, and before she reached his lap, there stood his manhood, hard and smooth and utterly impressive.

She didn't realize she stopped breathing until she let out a gust of air only to inhale deeply. Her eyes flew to his. "I suppose this is where I touch you, right?" she asked rhetorically, her gaze falling back to his groin.

Alessa had nothing to say, none of the clichéd comments of how surprisingly big he was or beautiful it was or...anything, as all thoughts had dissolved from her brain leaving only impulse and instinct behind. She placed her hands on his knees, and then slid her right hand forward on his thigh. Her reach was cautious, jilted with pauses and starts. Her hand opened around him, and closed partially, as if mimicking in ghostly fashion what she should have been doing, what she wanted to do.