Shock and Schway update

Chelsea grabbed hold of Peter, pulling him to her—his face to her luscious breasts. “Thank you—thank you so much—you’re such a good guy…”

His breath poured out of him, tickling between her breasts. Chelsea shuddered. A certain warmth raced through her. The pressure of his head felt good against her chest—pleasing—arousing. She couldn’t help it. He was a man and what she needed was a man. And he cared about her, for real, not just to get into her pants like Mason or Rick or Jason or any of the others. How many of them would fight for her like Peter had?

She ran her hand through his hair, pushing him closer to her breasts until she could feel his lips actually pressing against an erect nipple. It was thrilling; maybe the sensation a girl was supposed to feel with a boy instead of awkward or uncomfortable or put-off. His warmth throbbed with hers, stimulating, arousing, and she shivered, realizing that just being close to him was pleasurable. Sending little spasms through her cunt…

The drink she’d had made her feel lightheaded—easily persuaded, even by her own whims and fantasies. Chelsea enjoyed having a stranger provoking all this desire. It was perverse in a way she didn’t have to deal with, not if she didn’t want to. No, it could be slutty and yet she could do it, have him in her arms, a total stranger, and yet feel passion for him like she’d known him for a lifetime. Who cared? It was all so unreal anyway… so long as it felt good, it could keep being this weird.

The thought of Peter inside her burned in Chelsea’s breasts—she could feel herself wanting him all throughout her body. Her hands kneaded his muscular shoulders; she let herself move against him, pressing insistently into his warmth. Her pussy touching his thigh. It felt good there. It could feel even better.

The room seemed hot. She smiled invitingly at Peter. “I’m getting warm. Aren’t you getting warm?” She reached down and opened up the satin wrapper that was already doing a poor job of covering her body. “I don’t feel like wearing this anymore. I don’t need it…”

She pulled the thin garment off of herself, letting it fall to the mattress, leaving her naked, all of her charms exposed to Peter. She shivered, now enthralled by the idea of letting him see all of her—everything in front of him—practically on top of him. She took a deep breath; her breasts were full and firm and they rose with the air in her lungs. 

Chelsea could see what Peter was feeling in his eyes. It was all charmingly prosaic, the same as any boy might feel with a pretty girl, but without all the macho lack of self-awareness she might get with the usual jocks and preppies in her social circle. Still, she smiled to know what Peter was feeling. He was lustful, shy, embarrassed—lust was winning out. 

“Well, that’s much better, having that silly thing off,” Chelsea said. “It’s not like it kept you from seeing much, did it? That’s the point, I guess. Letting people see me. But you don’t need the big tease, do you? You can just look at me—“

Peter interrupted her, letting out a breath he’d been holding since she was clothed.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said simply, drinking her in like he’d never seen anything like her. For once, Chelsea didn’t feel like part of a set—her and Blade and Dana. Her body was damp with sweat, glistening with it, as though the burning urge she felt was shining right through her. 

“I suppose I am, huh?” she murmured softly. “Are you going to do something about that?”

“You being beautiful?” Peter asked, his hands trembling, fingers knotting together nervously. “Like what?”

Chelsea reached out and took his hands. She brought them to her breasts, but at the last moment, Peter’s wrists jumped out of her grip, taking hold of her tits on his own. His fingers crushed her breasts, palms rubbing into her nipples. Chelsea moaned—it felt like she’d been relieved of an ache she hadn’t realized she’d been feeling. And Peter gulped, barely able to stand the excitement he felt. Her tits felt so good in his hands.

Chelsea stared at him, taking in every nuance of what he felt as he fondled her. He squeezed her breasts for a long, sensual moment. Then she smiled, took a deep breath, and licked her lips. Slowly and gently. Assuring herself that what she felt as he caressed her was only the beginning.

“Jesus, Peter,” she cooed, falling against his hands, against his hard, muscular body. She pressed her lips to his. “Kiss me. Please, please, kiss me hard!”

Peter’s cock almost exploded in response to her sudden lust, her passion overwhelming him. He gulped, couldn’t swallow, his throat was so dry. But he kissed her back, ready for her once he’d reassured himself this was really happening. The idle daydream of saving a beautiful woman who decided to repay him with the body he’d preserved was actually coming true. He hadn’t known how enthusiastic he was about the prospect until it actually dropped in his lap.

His mouth against hers in sheer hunger, a desperate need laid claim to Peter, so strong that it both frightened and excited him. He felt powerless to hold back when it came to the offer of Chelsea’s luscious lips. He gave everything he had to her sweet, sensual mouth.

Their need for each other went beyond greed, became a fever that needed to be cured. Peter’s tongue brutally searched Chelsea’s mouth; she felt out his lips and found them more pleasurable, more stimulating, than in her wildest fantasies.

Chelsea felt his fingers delving in her breasts, sampling all they could of her lush, firm flesh. She scratched her nails down his back. Peter moaned and kneaded her breasts harder. They kissed again, Chelsea stabbing her tongue into his mouth, sending a pleasured moan with it. His hands kept feeling and massaging her aching breasts, Chelsea’s nipples growing harder, like they were offering themselves for Peter to play with. He pulled his hands off her tits to finger her nipples, pinching the taut, tight pebbles they’d become, twisting them to render Chelsea totally insensate with feeling. 

“Ohhh, God, God, yes, oh baby, yes, yes!” Chelsea gasped out loud. Peter forced a new kiss on her, needing another taste of her lips, and she met his tongue with her own. “Oh, Peter, you’re so beautiful, you, your hands—”

She felt his fingers digging into her breasts again, crushing the firming flesh but only making her heat rise higher. Chelsea groaned in aching enjoyment and swept her tongue against his again, while dropping her right hand to his groin. She needed to feel more of him, how hard he’d grown, what he could do to her with the erection she was provoking…

Peter was nowhere near the limits of his stamina, but he felt himself start to pant as Chelsea cupped the bulging erection in front of his trousers. The pressure of her warmly searching fingers along his manhood made his head swim with delight. He’d never known he could need a woman as bad as he needed Chelsea, needed more of her touch, needed her cunt and the look on her face as he made her feel what he was feeling.