Random Erotica: Fireworks (NSFW)

Warning: NSFW! I actually wrote this before my sister's wedding, but didn't get time to publish it until now. Erotica (of course), and a bit of a public display.

The day has been hot, almost too hot to eat or move. The crowd has slowly been gathering for the food and festivities, concluding with fireworks when darkness falls. As the sun begins to descend, more people flock to the potluck area.

She stands and talks with some friends she hasn’t seen since this time last year, occasionally lifting a bite from the paper plate to her lips.

He joins them, sliding the palm of one hand along her bare back. She sucks in a quick breath, steadies herself. Their friends don’t seem to have noticed.  When he moves his hand again to let just his fingertips graze her spine, she hopes her flush can be blamed on the heat of the day.

She tries to keep talking, keep her mind on the conversation as her heart jackhammers in her chest. She glances up at him from the corner of her eye. He sounds and looks unaffected. She wonders if he realizes what he’s doing to her.

His fingertips begin to walk over her warm skin, moving out toward her side. She allows herself a small inward sigh of relief, turning a bit more of her mind back toward their friends. Then she feels the tiniest lifting of the edge of her halter neck shirt; a little of the outside air courses between skin and fabric before his fingertips close that gap, lightly touching the side of her breast.

She shifts a little closer to him, acutely aware now of each movement he makes, the chatting dimming in her mind. She wonders briefly how she can continue to laugh and respond appropriately with her mind and body buzzing with his touch.

She turns a bit, excuses herself; she needs to compose herself, and she uses her empty plate as a reason to get away. His hand drops, and she moves off a bit.

She finds her way to the edge of the dance area, marked off by multi-colored paper lanterns. From there, she occasionally watches as he talks easily with other partygoers. When she sees him looking around for her, she averts her face.

A soft breeze blows across her still-sensitive skin, and then he’s there behind her. She gasps as he puts gentle pressure on her back, then smiles.

He leans down, puts his lips next to her ear, and murmurs, “There you are.”

She tilts her head as small goosebumps chase one another down her neck. “Here I am,” she agrees lightly, then turns to smile into his eyes. He smiles back, then touches her lips briefly with his.

Pulling back slightly, he steps around and offers her his hand. “Shall we dance, m’lady?”

She grins and allows him to guide her in amongst the other dancers. They twirl and move together, and he dips her once or twice, laughing. Then he pulls her close and whispers, “You are so beautiful,” as his hands find their way around her waist and to her back again. She closes her eyes and leans into him, letting herself melt a little in his arms.

As the light wanes, he pulls back. She protests, holding to him tightly for a moment, but then he takes her hand and tugs. “The fireworks will start soon,” he says. “You don’t want to miss them, do you?”

“No, I suppose not,” she replies, smiling and allowing him to lead her away from the other dancers. 

They walk up the incline surrounding the pond, looking for an unclaimed spot. Eventually, he leads her toward a tree—a little away from the other watchers, but not screened by the other trees on the property.

A cooler breeze springs up, and she shivers, rubbing at her arms a little. He grins. “Let me go see if there are some extra blankets in the car,” he suggests, then moves off into the gathering darkness. She nods and stands still, watching as the rest of the crowd gathers for the finale of the evening.

He comes back quickly, spreads a patched blanket on the ground. “Welcome back,” she says.

“Have a seat,” he grins as he sits, his back against the tree, and pats the blanket between his legs.

She lowers herself and scoots back until she can lean back against him comfortably. He wraps his arms around her and squeezes, and she rests her hands on his forearms, warming up.

The hosts pass by, putting out the torches that had served as bug repellant and lighting, and then a human hush falls as the frogs and insects pick up the sound for a moment. He squeezes her again, then pulls his arms back.

Her murmured protest dies as she feels his nose and lips nuzzling against her ear and neck and his fingers stroking very lightly up the exposed skin at the edge of her top. Her body flushes anew, and her back arches very slightly.

As the hosts complete their circle of the pond and begin their annual speech of good cheer, he slides his hands up and forward a bit. His thumbs slip gently along the edge of her back as his fingers lift the edge of her shirt and slide under. Her gasp at his touches is lost in the general laughter and applause at the end of the speech.

His teeth graze the top of her ear, and she tilts her head, her eyes closing. He pulls his hands back, strokes along the bit of her back he can reach for a moment, then slides his hands up and over her shoulders. She moves in response, pressing back against him.

As the first firework whistles upward, he slides his fingers under her shirt and over the tops of her breasts. Her eyes open as the flare booms and bursts, and she utters her appreciation along with the rest of the crowd. She presses her shoulders back, and he moves his hands down, just avoiding her nipples, letting them tent the fabric of her shirt as her hips move back against him.

Another and another firework burst and spread across the sky, and she wonders in the brief spots of darkness if she dares reach up to untie her top, let it fall open…and then in one swift move, he twists his wrists and slips the fabric over each breast to the side. Her nipples grow harder as the rapidly cooling air touches them, and she gasps again.

As the explosions in the sky begin to speed up, he grasps and squeezes her breasts, then flicks his thumbs across her nipples. She wriggles back against him, turning her head to try to catch his lips with hers. One hand tangles in his hair and the other tightens on his knee, and his fingers pinch and tug on her sensitive flesh. She muffles her sound of pleasure against his mouth, then pulls back and looks around.

No one appears to have noticed them, for which she is glad. She does see another couple kissing a few yards away, and another pair wiggling under a blanket a bit suspiciously. She grins wryly and turns her eyes up to the sky again, taking in the beautiful spreads of color and sparkle against the night.

His hands move again, so that one hand is across both breasts and the other slides down her stomach. His fingers pull her shirt up a little and then brush against the top of her jean skirt. She sucks in another breath and then sucks in on her stomach a little, leaving a gap between skin and material for him to slide down.

As his fingers slip under her panties and then between her folds, his lips close over her earlobe, nipping lightly. She utters a soft cry that gets lost in the thundering of the rockets as the show picks up in tempo.

He toys with her, causing jolts of electricity to shoot through her body. She wiggles and squirms between his hand and his legs, trying not to move too much but needing to feel his touch grow more purposeful, needing release.

At a short pause in the show, he finally slips inside her, and she clamps down on the sound that wants to erupt from her throat. As the finale begins, he pumps quickly with his hand. Her body arches and lifts a little, and it’s all she can do to hold onto him and hold onto her voice. The sound of her pulse in her ears nearly drowns out the fireworks, and then with one final pump, she’s gone, over the edge.

Her eyes close as her world erupts into brightness, and when she opens them again, the end of the finale streaks and bursts and sparkles against the sky. She watches in wonder, panting and resting back against him.

As the sky grows dark once again, her eyes close, and she sags a little. He chuckles and pulls his hands back, straightening her clothing for her and then just holding her. A few minutes go by, and the sounds of the other viewers gradually brings her back to awareness. She blushes, glad for the cover the night, and straightens in his arms.

He lets her go as she turns, kneeling before him. She opens her mouth as if to speak, and then changes her mind, leans forward, and kisses him softly before standing. He kisses back, and then gets to his feet with her and picks up the blanket. She leans against him for a moment, and he slips his arm around her, holding her close.

She looks up at him. “You know, I didn’t actually see much of that show,” she comments.

“Me, either,” he says, his lips quirking a bit.

She laughs. “Best fireworks show ever?”

He nods as they begin to walk toward their car. “I think so.”