His Hands

His hands grabbed the back of my head. I felt myself get locked in between the bend on his elbow, the back of the car seat and his other arm. I moved to put off pleasure and curiosity, when I did his hand tightened. I realized that even if I desired to there was no freeing myself. So I surrendered. There on the long bench of his pick up trucks front seat, there parked on a busy street, there facing the passers by. I let him pin me down, one hand coming up my thigh, a thumb on my spot and the other holding my head in place. He filled my mouth with his tongue and his passionate kisses and I tried to enjoy myself. But there was no moisture forming between my legs. There was no magic in my belly. I felt nothing and all of a sudden a flash of fear. I like this man, he is a nice person to pass the afternoon with. I like his way, how he carries himself and the when he looks down at me from his height with gentle caring eyes. But there in the front of his truck, there in the sun and the passer by’s eyes I began to feel what I think I shouldn’t. There is another side to him. His hands are to strong, his grip to sure. My retreats are met with resistance, my squirms are held tight in place. So I surrender and I push back, kiss deeper and use my free hand to outline the head of his cock with the tip of my thumb. My curiosity gets the better of me and I continue to poke the sleeping bear.
He wants to see me again tonight. He will come to the bar I am going to see my friends show. He will buy me another drink and he will push his leg into mine under the table. He will come to the bar and present his softer side, greet my friends and convince me of what I know I have already agreed to. So he will take me home. But his hands are so strong and I don't know how I feel. It is different when it is happening and not just in your imagination. I will surrender with fear and pleasure, I will surrender with a smile and tense muscles and I will just surrender because what could happen is not worse that what hasn’t.