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Who says consent and negotiations aren’t sexy? We were “vanilla” daters, not kinksters planning a scene, but we discussed our trysts beforehand nonetheless. His casual openness was disarming and put me at ease in a way I’d never felt with someone new before.
Our schedules made it most convenient to meet in the mornings before work. Our first two dates were at a coffee shop where the conversation flowed so effortlessly that we both lost track of time and got to work late.
“I’ll say metro was delayed.” He laughed. “That shouldn’t be hard to believe.”
“I’ll say there was traffic.” That’s the universal excuse here in the DMV. Everyone just nods in grim understanding.
At the end of the second date we shared a long, close hug and he whispered into my ear, “Damn, you look so good. I wish we’d met at my apartment instead of Starbuck’s.”
I whispered back with my lips a scant inch from his skin, letting him feel the warmth of my breath against the crease where his earlobe met his cheek. “Next time.”
We met at his apartment the following week. We discussed it via text the day before and he asked me how far I wanted to go. I found his straightforwardness both surprising and refreshing. He wanted a plan, a limit. I was used to a very different sort of experience — used to anxiously guessing at unspoken assumptions, used to buzzing with nervous adrenaline, used to frantically repairing the cracks in my defenses as my date battered them relentlessly.
I didn’t want to rush things. I told him our pants would stay on, but anything above the waist was fair game as far as I was concerned. He didn’t argue. He told me to wear a button down shirt, preferably something red or black. I felt an undeniable thrill of arousal when he gave me this instruction and I didn’t understand why. Shouldn’t I feel offended or at least a little annoyed instead of turned on, I wondered?
In any case, I found myself knocking on his door the next morning dressed in black pants and a red button down shirt. He opened the door clad in plaid pajama pants and a Captain America t-shirt — an amusing change from the business attire he’d worn on our previous dates. He had brewed coffee and we sat on the couch sipping it while we chatted about superheroes and pets, until he shifted closer and asked, “Are you comfortable?”
“Good.” He leaned forward to take the mug from my hand and set it on the coffee table next to his. “Because I’m going to kiss you.”
Only a tiny flutter of nerves — nothing like the panicked paralysis I usually experienced with first kisses — and I bent to meet him istanbul escort halfway. He tasted of coffee and I liked the way he kissed, sandwiching our lips to slide, stretch, and suck at one another, with an occasional brush of tongues. His kisses drifted to my neck and mine to his, my fingers clenched in his hair. When I sucked his earlobe into my mouth, he groaned “oh, fuck” and rolled me onto his lap so that I straddled him with my knee-high leather boots planted along the outsides of his thighs. I threaded my fingers through his hair and gazed into his face. His eyes met mine, heated and hazy, and he bit his lip as though he could hardly keep from devouring me. I wanted him to do exactly that. Our eyes remained locked as his fingers worked open the buttons of my blouse one by one until he could push the sides apart with one easy gesture. I shrugged myself completely out of it.
“That’s fucking hot,” he said, dropping his eyes to the cleavage spilling from my red and black lace bra.
“Just for you.” As he reached behind me to undo the hooks, I smiled and pushed my hips forward to slowly and deliberately grind my crotch against the hard length of his cock.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled.
I kept moving as his mouth engulfed my nipple, rolling and pressing that hardness where I needed it, wishing we didn’t have layers of clothing between us. His tongue circling one nipple with firm pressure while his fingers lightly pinched the other shot sparks straight to my clit until I squirmed and whimpered against him. Watching me, gauging my reactions, he closed his teeth gently around my nipple and tugged. I sighed, then moaned when he gave my other nipple the same treatment.
“Yeah? You like that?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” I breathed.
I tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and he helped me lift it over his head. It was my turn to explore him then, kissing and licking all the bare skin within reach, still rubbing myself against him and driving us both crazy while the sounds of our heavy breathing filled the room.
“It’s so hard not to go below the waist,” I murmured as my finger traced the edge of his waistband.
“I know,” he said. “When you leave I’m going to have to jerk off before I go to work.”
“Wish I could help you out with that.”
“I wish you could too. But you can’t. We decided.”
God, I was turned on. I was enjoying the moment for what it was, something I couldn’t usually do the first time with someone new, and I knew it was because for once I wasn’t anxious about what was coming next. Even though my throbbing clit wanted more, the piquant escort bayan mix of frustration and relief, knowing this was as far as it would go today, only enhanced the excitement.
Just before I left his apartment that morning, I glanced meaningfully at the bulge in his pants and breathed into his ear, “next time.”
Next time was in another week and once again we made plans the day before. We agreed that full nudity and hands and mouths anywhere were fair game, but not intercourse. He told me to wear a dress.
There were a few kinks that day, however, and I don’t mean the good kind. First, I woke up to a surprise visit from Aunt Flo. After some muttering and cursing, I decided maybe it was better that way. All the focus could be on him; it would simplify things. I was on my way there when he texted to let me know he’d been called into an unexpected meeting at work and would need to leave the apartment within the next 30 minutes.
No time to sip coffee and chat that day. As soon as I stepped inside he shut the door behind me and pulled me up against him. He wore the same pajama pants, without a shirt this time, and my hands roamed the bare skin of his back while our mouths fused urgently and he slid the lace sleeves of my red dress down my shoulders and off past the ends of my fingertips. I pulled back for a moment to inform him of my body’s unfortunate timing.
“Statistically, I guess that has to happen sometimes, right?” He pushed my dress down to the waist and unfastened my bra. We stood together in the entryway, torsos bared, the cool air tightening the skin around my swollen nipples. I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my breasts.
“A quarter of the time, yeah. Stupid nature,” I grumbled.
“It’s too bad. You look amazing in that dress and I’m so goddamn horny for you right now.”
His right hand dropped to the front of his pants and he began to stroke himself slowly through the thin fabric.
“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow and he nodded. I knew what he wanted, of course, and I was only too happy to oblige. This, I was comfortable with. Focusing purely on this service, on paying homage at the altar of his manhood, on coaxing forth his pleasure. Not giving, not taking, simply…relishing.
He moved his hand aside as mine replaced it over the hard outline of his cock, first squeezing gently and then rubbing. He yanked impatiently at his pants and I helped ease them down over his hips.
I licked my lips. “Do you want me to use my mouth?” I asked, looking up at him with what I hoped was a coyly seductive expression.
I escort istanbul sank to my knees, the heels of my boots digging into my ass cheeks. Mildly uncomfortable, yet oddly satisfying. I started slowly, the way I like it, letting my mouth and his cock make each other’s acquaintance. I wrapped my fingers around the base and explored the taste and feel of him with several long, slow, spiraling licks from root to tip. Once he gleamed with my wetness, my lips encircled his cockhead and slid them down the lubricated shaft to fully engulf his member. I held there for a moment until the pressure against the back of my throat was almost too much, then came up again slowly, keeping my grip firm and my lips tight over my teeth. I sank into a steady rhythm while my free hand fondled his balls.
“Oh, fuck, that’s so good,” he groaned, fisting his hands in my hair.
I could hear the excitement in his voice and I wanted to savor this as long as I could. I shifted my mouth’s attention to his balls while my hand stayed on his cock, stroking gently. He was shaved bare and the velvety smoothness was delicious as I licked and sucked and rolled his balls over my tongue. Some men seem to like this attention even better than cocksucking, and he was one of them.
“You’re making me need to cum so bad,” he moaned. I glanced up to see his head fall back and his eyes drift shut. He grabbed his cock out of my soft grip and replaced it with his firmer one to stroke himself.
“Hey, that’s mine,” I chided playfully.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he hissed as I filled my mouth with his cock again. I worked him faster and with stronger suction than before, encouraged by the unsteady hitch in his breath and the pumping of his hips while his hands clutched the sides of my head as if for support.
I could tell it wouldn’t be long now. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched in concentration, his voice low and husky repeating an increasingly incoherent chorus of “oh…fuck…” in long, sustained tones. His cock jerked hard and I drew him all the way into my throat, sealing my lips around the base so that not a drop of his load would escape. I wanted it all. I felt a tremor travel up his shaft and then a satisfying flood of warmth in the back of my mouth. I swallowed wave after wave down into me and continued suckling gently even after his last shudders had passed, wanting to drain him dry.
“You give amazing head,” he told me when he caught his breath.
“Really? I’m glad you think so. I love doing it.”
He kissed me good-bye at the door, intending a light peck, but the kiss seemed to deepen of its own accord and we soon found ourselves in a passionate embrace yet again.
He sighed and released me. “You’d better go before you tempt me into round two and I’m late for work.”
I wore a smile and a red dress to work that day.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32