He repeated himself, then grinned and showed me an inkling of what to do.
I did it. I did exactly as he said, and followed his instructions as completely as I could. My arms bent, elbows pointed straight up, and my fingers touched my blond hair by my forehead. Asher looked on, directing me this way and that until he had me in as perfect an arrangement as he wanted.
“Arch your back,” he said. His hands reached for my hips and his thumbs pressed into my abdomen by my pubic bone. Excitement fluttered through my stomach and towards my crotch and without realizing it my body moved on its own, exactly as he wanted. My back arched, body attempting to press closer to him, hoping beyond hope that he might move his fingers lower, into my panties, and…
“Perfect,” Asher said. “This is an exquisite position. In the car, getting a good picture would be difficult, but this position is wonderful. You would make a great model, Jessika. You follow instructions well.”
His praise, his kind words, the fact that he made me feel sexy beyond belief when I didn’t think I was anything more than average; it turned me on so much. I needed to refrain myself, though. If I did, he would touch me more, I knew it. He would show me poses, shape me as he liked, touch his fingers to my stomach and my legs and my…
His hand caressed the middle of my thigh, easing towards the waistband of my panties. He brushed his fingers along the laced cotton cloth of my underwear, then pressed his hand towards the center of my body. His hand glided across my cotton-covered pussy towards my other thigh, then up that leg to my knee.
I gasped his name aloud, shivering. “Asher…”
“That would make a good picture,” he said. “That area.”
Oh, yes. Yes! That area was wonderful. I completely agreed with him.
Now his hand moved towards the front of my panties again, but this time not as low. He tugged at the waistband of my undergarment and pulled it a little lower, pressing his fingers against the uppermost part of my pubis. Spreading his fingers so his thumb and pinky finger reached towards my thighs, he moved his hand upwards across my stomach and towards my breasts.
“With your back arched,” he said. “this looks magnificent. You have a very soft stomach. The slight ‘V’ at the bottom makes the image all the more alluring.”
I arched my back further, trying to make him touch me more, hoping he would knead his fingers into my sensitive skin. But, he merely reacted to my movements and moved his fingers away the slightest amount so that the pressure he applied was always the same.
It was agonizing. I couldn’t stand it. Here I was in the back seat of his car, like some silly schoolgirl, spread out and arranged, ready for him to take, and yet there was no “taking” taking place. Strict, it seemed, and no matter how I squirmed or moved, I couldn’t sway Asher away from his professionalism.
“Stop squirming,” he commanded.
His hands grabbed my waist and he set me back to where I was. He held me hard until I stopped moving. But, oh, it was so difficult. I needed to do it, wanted to please him, and yet the longer he held me, the more I wanted to move. I wanted to writhe in his grasp and induce his passions, ruin his austere attitude and see if I could sway him towards impossible, endless lust.
I didn’t, though. I couldn’t. He waited, stared at me, held me, and with a quiet whimpering plea as my only means of complaint, I calmed myself. My lower lip moved out, some ridiculous show of disappointment, but Asher disregarded it.
I managed to maintain my composure for all of a few seconds before I lost it again.
To be fair, it wasn’t my fault. Or, not entirely. Asher shifted his hands from my waist to my bra-clad breasts and squeezed. My eyes fluttered closed and my hips bucked. The toes of my foot—the one he’d placed between his crotch—curled and dug into the leather seat. He squeezed my breasts, massaging them in his hands, toying with my nipples through the fabric. I let out a gasp that turned into a moan. Still, despite myself, I tried to maintain the pose he’d set me in. My arms stayed bent, fingers at my forehead, but this time instead of pretending to grab my hair, I pulled on it hard.
His hands tickled up the undersides of my arms towards my elbows, then down towards my wrists. I opened my eyes to look at him just in time to see his index finger moving closer to my face. Without knowing why, without being told, I opened my lips slightly and let him put his finger in my mouth. He pressed his fingertip against my tongue and I licked and swirled around it in response. My lips closed, puckering, kissing the sides of his finger, and my tongue went wild.
He watched me intently. My lower body writhed on the seat of the car and I tried to grind my crotch against his knee, but he kept moving it away. I attempted to suck his finger in further, to entice him into something more, but he kept pulling it away. I lifted my head, leaning forwards, but still he eluded me.