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I went to the races once, with a man I hadn’t been seeing for very long.It was a corporate event, so a certain amount of decorum was required. I had dressed for the occasion, and felt I was looking fabulous, he was looking dapper too, and we looked very good together.
We sat down at the table in the corporate marquee as he introduced me to his colleagues. And, as expected, we started conversing about all the typical socially accepted and expected things that one does at these events.
I don’t know what it is about the races though; perhaps it’s the excitement of the horses thundering down the straight, or the huge amounts of money that are won and lost, or the abundance of alcohol that invariably flows. But it always seems, that regardless of everyone’s finery, and the usual airs and graces which are displayed at the beginning of the day, as the hours pass, people seem to drop their guard, lose their inhibitions and begin to behave in ways they wouldn’t normally do.
As the day wore on, and several glasses of champagne had been consumed, I felt myself getting into this spirit and started feeling a little bit naughty. It appeared my date was too, as he began rubbing my thigh under the table, while continuing to carry on his conversation about who to back in the next race with the others seated around us.
His hand inched a little higher with each upward stroke, first sliding under the hem of my dress, then to the lacy edge of my black stockings. Higher and higher until I felt his fingertips slip under the elastic edge of my underwear. Then, agonizingly slowly and sensuously, he traced the edge, down, lower, probing until I felt compelled to uncross my legs and part them slightly to allow his insistent fingers access so they could continue on their journey. However, here, they paused for several minutes. Fingers nestled in the warmth between my legs, fingertips tucked, every so slightly, under the very edge of my knickers.
The surge of sexual excitement I had felt as they started their journey transformed into an aching, pulsing heat between my legs in anticipation of where his fingers would journey next. I was trying very hard to keep my upper body, face and voice, from giving away what was happening under the table, but in doing this my excitement just escalated further, and I didn’t know how much longer I could go without reacting and giving away what was going on.
He was teasing me though. He didn’t move his fingers further inside to seek out the core of that moist pulsing heat. Instead he just moved his fingers up and down the path created by the edge of my underwear, so that every once in a while, his fingertips, ever so lightly, skimmed the outer lips of my aching cunt. In contrast his palm felt firm and strong, moulding to and rubbing along the bare skin on the inside of my thigh in the space provided between my stockings finishing and my knickers starting.
He was playing games with me, creating an exquisite, almost painful sensation causing my heart to beat harder and my blood to pump faster from the arousal he was inducing, but not allowing to be satisfied. I shifted slightly in my seat, trying to force him to touch me properly, but his hand moved with me and refused to give me what my body was crying out for. While all of this was going on, he maintained remarkable composure, at least outwardly anyway, continuing to chat away with his colleagues.
Then he turned towards me and winked as he said ‘I think it’s time we went and had a bit of a flutter, don’t you?’ and stood up, holding his hand out to me. We went outside the corporate marquee where we were being entertained for the day. There weren’t many people around at that time though. The race was going to start soon, and everyone was either placing last minute bets or finding the best vantage point to watch it.
We peeked into the women’s toilets, which were really quite lovely, being in the corporate section of the track, and they were empty. We looked at each other, smiled and hurriedly slipped into one of the stalls before anyone noticed. As we locked the door he started kissing me hungrily, while I frantically tried to undo his pants to release his cock, which by this stage was straining against his pants, already hard, set to go. I leant against one wall and lifted up one leg so that I could brace myself with my foot on the opposite side of the cubicle, causing my dress to ride up around my hips revealing the entire length of my black stocking clad leg, and giving him a glimpse of my brief, silky, black underwear.
As I managed to get his pants undone and his cock in my hand I finally felt his fingers plunge inside me, but I was well beyond foreplay, I wanted to be fucked hard, and fast, I couldn’t wait any longer. I whispered hoarsely in his ear ‘oh god, just fuck me, hard, now’. As we heard the gates spring open and the horses start racing, he thrust into me with such force that I could instantly feel him filling me completely. I gasped from the sensation of being so thoroughly taken. And as we could hear the horses thundering down the track, we created our own pounding rhythm. I had my hands under his shirt now, and as the crowd outside started cheering and yelling, trying to spur on the horses I felt more and more excited, and our rhythm quickened to match it – deeper, harder, faster.
I could feel my fingernails digging into his back as his plunged his cock, again and again, deep inside me. As we heard the crowd outside reach a crescendo when the horses crossed the finish line, so did we, as I felt him come inside me and my muscles contracted with my own release. We were both panting from the hard and fast ride we’d taken, but there was no time to recover properly. The race had finished and it was only a matter of moments before the toilets would fill up with women waiting to use the facilities. I pulled my dress down, and he hurriedly did up his pants and tucked in his shirt and we managed to sneak back out again just as we saw the first group of women heading towards the toilets.
There had been no time to tidy my hair or fix my makeup, and I could see that my date’s shirt was unevenly tucked in and his hair was dishevelled. As we sat back down at our table I’m sure it was obvious what we’d been up to. And it made me smile as I a saw a few raised eyebrows and knowing grins being exchanged as one of them asked us if we’d backed a winner.
© 2011 Judi Reed
She is inspired to write erotic fiction by a desire to explore and celebrate the complexity of female sexuality combining the many and varied emotional, mental and physical aspects from a distinctly female perspective. Her blog, Distinctly Female was launched in 2012. It includes her stories, research relating to women’s sexuality, and quotes and comments from authors representing a variety of perspectives. Judi invites everyone to read her blog and share with her topics or themes that they would like to see explored.