I'm not a big fan of blind dates, but this one's not really "blind." We've e-known one another for years. Even so, it's astonishing how comfortable we are in one another's physical presence. The laughter is plentiful, and the flirting is so outrageous that with any other companion, I'd be inclined to wonder if he was just joking. With him, though, I know there's desire to back it up—which is just fine with me 'cause I've got my own store of it to reciprocate.
He picked a terrific restaurant. Upscale but not pretentious. Candlelight, sultry music, and long, blood red tablecloths. The atmosphere is almost as seductive as the company. He's wicked smart with a passionate imagination that makes me want to ride him into next week. Plus, he makes me feel like there's no one else in the room. I have his complete attention—and there's nothing hotter than the undivided attention of an intelligent, witty, creative, sexy man. I squirm a bit in my chair, eager to move things along.
Dinner was amazing, and the dessert tastes so incredibly sinful that I am immediately reminded of another oral fixation. I decide to turn things up a notch. I'm not known for my patience, after all.
So, we were at dinner, laughing and chatting, having a blast, and flirting like crazy. As the crème brûlée comes out for dessert, she takes a spoonful, looks over it, and says, "Are we just going to talk all night, or do you wanna go fuck?" She then licks the creamy treat in a very naughty, seductive fashion.
"I was thinking you'd start by blowing me under the table, just to really kick it out wild." I'm bluffing. Trying to see how far she will go. After another spoonful of brûlée, she slides under the table. Her hands are on my thighs, and I can feel her pulling the zipper down, pulling my cock out, and slowly, softly kissing its tip, swirling her tongue around the edges before sucking it in completely. Her tongue is firm against the underside, sliding back and forth as she goes up and down, one hand squeezing my balls. She's aggressive, almost hungry, and goes at it with vigor. It's no time at all before I am erupting, and she is sucking, draining it all out.
As she comes back up, licking her lips, she coos, "There. Now your next one should last a bit longer."
"CHECK, PLEASE!"
I think I shock him when I call his bluff and slide under the table, but I want to taste him far more than I want the crème brûlée. Seems his attention above the table is mirrored below it, because he's hard before I even get him unzipped. I adore the first taste of a new partner, and I savor him for a moment before taking his cock all the way into my mouth. For a split second, I wish we were in a private place, but then I realize that we have all night. This is just our appetizer, not our dessert.
He's remarkably quiet and still for someone so rock hard. Only the trembling tension in his thighs and an occasional soft gasp reveals how hard he's working to maintain composure. I hear the server return with the bill, and he grunts an acknowledgment.
My absence is noticed, and the server inquires, "Is everything okay with the lady's dessert?"
I seize that opportunity to pull him all the way to the back of my throat and swallow. He can't get any deeper. I hear his spoon drop onto the plate, and I chuckle inwardly.
"Fine," he squeaks, an octave higher than his normal speaking voice. Bringing it down in tone, he adds, "She j-just went to the... head."
"Very well, sir." I catch a hint of amusement in the server's voice. Mere seconds after I hear his footsteps moving away, a hand snakes beneath the tablecloth and grips my hair as crème—not brûlée, but warmed fraîche—fills my mouth.
Riding back to the hotel, we make out in the back of the cab, going at each other like teenagers. My hand is up her skirt, fingers rubbing the edges of her lips and teasing just between pussy and ass. We scurry through the lobby to the elevator and start tugging clothes off even as the doors begin closing.
My shirt is barely on my shoulders. Her blouse is held by only two buttons, lace bra exposed, but we don't care. We're kissing and groping and touching all the way down the hall to the door. The clothes come off almost instantly, and I carry her to the bed, tossing her there just before pushing my boxers off.
"Now it's my turn." I kiss her thighs, her mound, and begin eating, licking, teasing her with my mouth. I flick my tongue inside then pull back her hood to suck on her clit, drawing it in and pulling it with my lips, bobbing like she did earlier. Giving a sharp nip with my teeth on just the tip, she cries out. I kiss, lick, and flicker more ardently, feasting on her growing wetness.
The taxi ride is a sweet torment, and we restrain ourselves only enough to avoid arrest. We can't wait to get back to the room—our virgin room—our uncharted territory. I want to christen it and infest it with a sexual energy that later occupants will feel for years to come. They'll walk in and sense our pulse. Close their eyes and see his mouth on my sex, drinking me with an unquenchable enthusiasm. Smell the sweat of our fucking. We'll leave behind a raw, primal echo of our consummation.
Those thoughts dance through my mind as we pass through the hotel lobby, pawing at each other, oblivious to observation. My eyes are open, but my sight is obscured by a hunger for penetration. I can still feel his fingers assaulting my pussy, and it throbs for more. We're tugging at each other's clothes before he even gets the key card in the door.
He strips me as I strip him without regard for the preservation of the garments. When he's left in just his boxers, he sweeps me into his arms. I'm momentarily airborne as he deposits me on the bed with a growl. He hesitates only long enough to remove the last of his clothes and then dives between my legs. His tongue is hot and strong, and I feel my orgasm begin to bloom.
I wrap my arms around her thighs, holding her still as she begins to writhe. I draw the climax out of her, drinking it in as she cries out. She shivers, trembles, breathlessly moaning for more, and I push two fingers in along the bottom as I return my lips to the button beneath the hood. The second wave washes over her and she bucks upward, grinding against my face. I nip and suck on whatever skin I can catch between my lips.
I let her go, and kiss up her body to her lips, inhaling her breath as she tastes herself on me. The fire is still hot inside her eyes, glowing as I look at her. She rolls on top of me, straddling my hips and grabbing my shaft.
"Yeah, I think you're ready for round two now," she purrs as she lifts up, then slides down over me, slowly rocking back and forth, squeezing her PC muscles as she comes down.
As soon as I catch my breath, he crawls up my body and kisses me. The taste of pussy on a man's beard tops the list of my erotic triggers, even if it's my own. The need for more penetration eclipses all else, and I nudge him onto his back. As I climb on top and lower myself onto his delicious cock, I think about enjoying the essence of another woman from his face—about sucking his hot cum from her tits—about her rimming my ass while I ride him. I know just the woman, too. She's flying in from London next week, and I plan to share every raw detail of this experience with her while she licks my pussy.
Soon, though, coherent thought is no longer possible. My body takes over. His thumbs tease my clit, causing me to pick up my pace, to chase my orgasm. I shift from grinding to a more intense up-and-down motion, my thighs burning from the exertion and a sheen of sweat forming across my chest. I hit the burn, the line athletes cross that enables them to exceed physical limits. Adrenaline courses through my body, and I feel like I could ride him all night.
When his hands move to my tits, I come undone. My coordination falters from the additional stimulation, and I lose my rhythm. He flips me over in one smooth motion, never leaving my cunt, and commences fucking me. I try to wrap my arms around him, but he pins them to the bed over my head. I wrap my legs around him in lieu, pulling him into me, kicking his ass with my heels.
We're on a trajectory together, racing toward ecstasy, and he releases my hands to better brace himself, to drive harder and faster. My orgasm grows from deep inside, speeding across nerve endings and setting them on fire. I rake his back with my nails and dig them into his ass as the waves rock me, an unrecognizable voice coming from my mouth.
I hold her hips, thumbs rubbing along her mound and moving inward to stroke her clit each time she comes down. She moves harder, faster, less rocking and more pumping, crashing on my hips as she demands more and more. I reach up to capture her breasts in my hands, caressing and squeezing, thumbs brushing over nipples as she bounces wildly on top.
She throws her head, back, growing closer to climax, but then I pull her down on me, her body pressed to mine. I roll us over, pinning her to the bed with her hands above her head. We share deep, hungry, growling kisses, and I bite her throat as I begin my rhythm, slowly at first, sliding in and out, lifting upward on the backstroke to rub her cluster of nerves.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me into her, and I increase both force and pace. Neither of us can speak, merely gasping and groaning, words becoming meaningless as our minds reel in passion. She arches her back, teetering on the brink of orgasm once again, and I drive into her as if trying to break a dam to loose a flood of ecstasy. Nails dig into my back. She clutches and scratches and claws to pull me with her, dragging me into the torrent. When she reaches down and grabs my ass, piercing the skin with her nails, I can't hold back. I slam into her, my back, legs, hips arms—my whole body—flexing to push through her as I erupt once more.
We lay still next to each other, breathing heavily and smiling in that glow of fading bliss. I watch her body, the light pink blush that covers her head to toe, the way her breasts move as she breathes, the way she stretches her legs so that I see the muscles moving. One small quick kiss before I roll over and order another bottle of wine.
"We have to keep our fluids up. Getting dehydrated would be a terrible shame."
"And I can do some amazing things with a wine bottle," she winks and pulls me back into the bed.
