Moving in Together
The holiday & Christmas break was upon us before we knew it, and finals were soon just a memory. Of course, me being ever-compulsive about grades had me looking in the mailbox daily, waiting on pins & needles. Finally the slip came, and it turned out I’d scored exactly average in my GPA range: really good, in other words. No hassles from the ‘rents!
Andrea and Shiela were delighted, and we were soon at the Frontier Bar and Grill planning the next semester. The first thing on the agenda, given our most recent sexual escapades, involved getting me out from under my parents’ roof and into something more reasonable, like a three-bedroom apartment or a house, preferably within a safe walking distance of the campus.
I dropped this on my parents one night at dinner, that we were looking, and was met with a stony silence. “Well?” I asked.
My dad cleared his throat, and my mom finally spoke. “How do you plan to afford it, dear?”
“What? Seriously? Have you seen my grades lately? I see another scholarship in my future, Mother. Besides, I’m 22! I’m thinking it’s about time to get a place of my own.”
“On your own?” my dad asked.
“No, with Shiela and Andrea.”
“Have we met them?”
“Yes, early last year. I’ll bring them by again,” I offered. What, you now have to approve my friends, too? I thought acidly, but I held my tongue. Barely. This was really getting out of hand. What was going to happen when I decided to get married?
* * *
I reported this back to Andrea the next day.
“Good. Fucking. Grief. Let’s go house shopping anyway,” she said. “And you go ahead and apply for that scholarship. Or whatever other financial aid you can find. This is bullshit. You’re not a teenager anymore.”
Shiela said much the same thing. All three of us – especially me – were of a similar mind that I had to move out.
* * *
Amazingly, we found a cute little bungalow (actually I guess I can’t call it that, since it would make you think of the tropics, and we were definitely not in the tropics, but squarely in the Snow Belt), with three bedrooms, a comfortable living room, and a workable kitchen. It wasn’t furnished, but the local Goodwill store supplied all we needed.
We spent the rest of the break moving in, and after the first day of classes, dined on home-made spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and some of the best wine I’d ever tasted. Yes, it was going to be a good semester!
* * *
Besides the class load, although I was only carrying 15 hours this time, my focus was on finding a good boyfriend and getting laid for the first time ever. Perhaps it was a long shot, but Shiela and Andrea encouraged me I could do it! And of course, or at least that’s what I imagined, that was the biggest thing the ‘rents were afraid I was gonna do… On the other hand, they’d never know!
My second of four Psych classes started, with the same guy in the back row. After the conversation with Shiela back in the fall, I was a little self-conscious. Was he really ogling me (creepy), or was he just “enjoying the show” I was putting on? He was certainly “easy on the eyes,” I’ll tell you that much. He’d been on and off my mind over the weeks and months, but here it was school time again, and I was curious. But how to get his attention, without coming across as a total slut? That’s if I was even reading him right, which I think I was. So if one and one makes two, or two singles make a couple, who was going to make the first move? And how?
We were still in the depths of winter, and since I was walking to class, I frequently bundled up in a formless hooded parka and gloves. And boots. I’d bought a pair very similar to the pair that Andrea had loaned me in early fall for our Haus Brau trip. Mostly I wore them with my jeans over them, but sometimes I tucked my jeans inside. It made me think of my experience at the Haus Brau. Besides that, when I tucked the legs of my jeans into my boots, it was a lot warmer. Or maybe I was just hotter for the experience. My gloves were my favorite piece of the outfit. They were fine black leather, soft and perfectly fitted, coming about half way up my forearms. The thing I love about gloves is the way they hold and caress each finger, and the way you can feel the stretch of the leather against the palm of your hand when you open your hand and spread your fingers, and then the stretch over the back of your hand, as you curl your fingers into a fist.
My dear anonymous friend was still in the back row, and I was in the same seat as in the fall, closer to the front of the lecture hall. I caught him once or twice licking his lips, but maybe it was because he was cold and had chapped lips. Or maybe it was a subtle sign that said he was interested in me, thinking about me, my body, what it might be like to enjoy it. I often thought of how Shiela had described me as, “Eminently fuckable.” I imagined this guy shared her thought and felt the same.
Regardless, I didn’t change my routine: come into the lecture hall, take a seat near the front, take off my parka and gloves, and lean back and stretch. Mr Leather Bomber Jacket was usually there, and I imagined anyway, taking in the whole show. As I said before, definitely “easy on the eyes.” There was something about this guy’s attention, focused on me, that had me really turned on. I imagined he was undressing me with his eyes. Did he sit in the back of the room, getting hard under his desk, imagining the same things I was?
Many nights I’d go back to our house (out from under my ‘rents, yes!) and masturbate myself to exhaustion. Mr. Cox didn’t care, but it was getting a little old. I couldn’t get Andrea’s words, “hot and slippery,” out of my mind. I could scarcely wait for the real thing!
It happened that for a few days late in January I got sick and couldn’t make it to any of my classes. I knew I was going to have a lot to catch up on, and I hoped I could do it. Then it occurred to me that this might be a very good excuse to meet my anonymous friend in the back row and ask to borrow his notes for the two days I’d missed class. Perfect arrangement, or what? You’ll see!
A Study Date Gone Bad
My first day back in classes was a Wednesday. I knew what I had planned, but to say I was nervous would be an understatement. On the one hand, I knew I had a lot of catching up to do, but on the other, I wanted to know a whole lot more about him!
I was so nervous I nearly had to hold my hands together to keep them from shaking. After class I grabbed my gloves and books, and practically ran up the stairs before he could get away. “Hey,” I started, “would it be OK if I borrowed your notes from Wednesday and Friday last week?”
“Um, sure,” he answered, a small smile growing.
I don’t know who was more nervous, him or me.
“Thanks!” I said, as he got out his notebook.
“The professor announced Monday that there’s a quiz coming up next week, Friday. Thought you should know,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m Meesha, by the way.”
“Hi Meesha. I’m Frank.” He extended his hand, which I took. Was he trembling as well?
“Hi Frank. Say, if it doesn’t sound too forward, could I get your phone number so I can get this back to you as soon as I can?” I smiled at him and tried to make flirty eyes, in the hope he’d pick up on the sub-text.
“Sure,” he said, and gave it to me.
“Thanks! You’re a big help.”
“You’re very welcome, Meesha. Best of luck with my notes. Hope to hear from you soon!”
Yeah, you don’t know the half of it! I thought. I could hardly wait to call him!
He went out the door on his way to his next class. I set down my backpack and stuffed everything into it, then pulled on my gloves. Then, with my mind still adrift with thoughts of Frank an idea hit me: what would it feel like to give a handjob in these? I headed out of the lecture hall.
* * *
I texted Shiela and Andrea as soon as I could. “Got his name and phone number!”
“Well done!” Andrea responded.
An instant later I got one from Shiela. “Way to go, girlfriend!”
I shivered suddenly, and it wasn’t due to the cold weather. I could hardly wait for our next meeting!
* * *
I had a lot of study and homework to catch up on, and I tried like mad to keep my mind on my studies. My parents had told me that I could stay in the new house only if I could keep my grades up. Honestly, I had to wonder what in the world what they were so worked up about. I mean, with a full-ride scholarship, and me at 22 and carrying a 3.8 GPA, did they really have any business hassling me about this?
Anyway, and obviously, psychology was the first topic I dove into. Frank had nice, neat handwriting, and took clear notes. It was hard to study staring down at the crisp little letters, and my mind kept drifting to Frank’s other qualities. I won’t bore you with the list of classes I had to make up, but even with only 15 hours this time, it was a lot of tedious work to cover all those classes.
It was Sunday evening by the time I was caught up with everything, and I figured I’d be able to return Frank’s notes to him that Monday morning. For some reason, he wasn’t in class that morning.
After class, and with trembling fingers, I punched in his number.
“Hello? This is Frank.”
“Hi Frank. Meesha. Thanks for the notes; you were a big help.” That was true enough. “When can I get them back to you?”
“This evening would be great,” he answered. “And… could I borrow yours? Missed this morning. Where can I meet you?”
Between my legs would be good, I thought, grinning to myself. “Across Fifth at the Frontier Bar and Grill?”
The Frontier Bar and Grill, while not what I would call a “dive,” was a popular hang-out for students. They served alcohol as asked, but mostly short-order food and coffee. In short, it was a good place for students to gather. I don’t know that it made for such a good study place, but that was me.
“Sounds good. Say around seven?”
“Seven is great!” I answered, hoping not to sound too eager.
“See you there,” he answered, and the phone call was over.
Well, that was kind of abrupt, I thought, looking at my phone. But then I thought of his frequent glances at me, and his tongue, slowly licking his lips. I hoped I wasn’t mistaken about him.
I rushed into our house, bursting to tell Andrea and Shiela the news.
“Gonna meet him tonight at the Frontier!” I said.
Shiela and Andrea looked up from the table where they were studying, both grinning.
“Go slow,” Shiela said.
“And don’t come across too strong,” Andrea added.
* * *
Six thirty and a howling snowstorm. Boot weather. Leather glove weather. I made careful work of tucking my jeans into my boots. I was getting more turned on by the minute, until I realized it was too cold for that delicious sweater and my black bra showing my cleavage. It wasn’t exactly windproof. Now what? Maybe a button down shirt, with a camisole underneath? Yeah, that’d work, I thought. Besides, it’d be layered, and more insulation against the weather. However, with some bit of chagrin, I noticed in the mirror as I buttoned my shirt that it didn’t quite fit any more. The button over my breasts was straining as though waiting to pop out. Well, that’s too bad, I thought. It was sexy, a tiny bit obscene, and the shirt and the cami were thin enough for my nipples to poke out. It’d still be cold, too, I realized. Putting my over-active hormones to the backseat, I pulled on one of my college sweatshirts.
The woman who looked back at me in the mirror was striking. I had my red hair up, which I thought made me all the sexier. I’d always loved my light green eyes, and the red sweatshirt made them stand out even more. My boobs stood out as well. I moved my hands up to my chest and gave them a little urge up and a little squeeze. I remembered Sheila’s words again, “Eminently fuckable.” I smiled at that, and decided against the lipstick. I ran my tongue over my lips, and decided some lip gloss would be good.
I knew my parents wouldn’t approve of all this, but so what? I was so, so tired of being the good little “Irish Catholic girl” with the imposing, strict upbringing that marked my growing-up years. Way too strict and confining, I thought. I went out to the living room to Shiela and Andrea. “What do you think, girls?”
“I think that’s perfect,” Andrea said. “Perfect college student!”
“Want to borrow my leather coat?” Shiela asked.
“‘K. Don’t wait up for me!”
It was her long leather coat, almost a trench coat. Much sexier than my parka. I grabbed the coat from the corner of the sofa and was out the door, and a short walk later I was at the Frontier. Shiela’s coat did not work. The way I’d put my hair up exposed bare skin. I turned the collar up, but the snow and the wind bit at my bare neck. I made a mental note to wear a scarf with it if I borrowed it again. I pulled the door open and scanned the room and bar, looking for Frank.
There! Seated in a booth, sort of scanning the room. I suddenly noticed that I was wet, and not just from the snow melting off my head and down my neck! As I walked up to him, I could feel my pussy lips sliding together.
“Hi Frank,” I said.
“Hi yourself, Meesha. You look like you’re dressed for the weather.”
“I am.” I hoped he saw my boots, but at least, I saw him stealing a glance at my gloves and my chest, my boobs. Although he couldn’t possibly notice my nipplies straining against my top, under all those layers, I did notice him looking. Some women find that irritating, me included, but right then I could give a damn. Stare all you want! And tell me what you want!
“Got your notes here,” I said as I slipped off my borrowed coat and slid into the booth opposite him.
“Get anything out of them?”
“I did. Probably better than I could have done.” I took off my gloves and laid them on the table between us. “Here’s your notebook,” I said.
“Thanks. You know, those gloves of yours sure look well-broken in. They hold the shape of your hands perfectly!”
What a non-sequitur, I thought! But I didn’t care. “Well, thank you. I really like them.” Moisture missile, straight to my pussy. I smiled at Frank then shifted in my seat, squirming a little as my soaked pussy reacted to his attentions.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No, not at all.” Not at all, girl; that’s pure bullshit and you know it. Except you just about made me cream myself. I decided to keep on the academic track for the moment despite my growing arousal. “Say, you take such good notes. What would you say to studying together at some point?”
“That’d be great,” he answered. “Don’t know where. This place is kind of noisy. Maybe the old section of the library? I like it there. Totally quiet, seems very scholarly, yah know?”
“Never thought about it really. Usually I’m at home with my friends, but maybe that’d be a good change.”
“I’m usually there every night.”
“Sounds good. I’ve only been there once or twice, but I get what you mean by scholarly. You mean The Monastery, right?” That was how nearly everybody I knew referred to it. You could hear a pin drop in that old hall.
“I do,” Frank said.
“So you’re there most nights. Could we take it up Friday evening?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “We’ll see how it goes!”
“Excellent!” I said, hoping not to sound too eager.
Friday night couldn’t come soon enough, and my thoughts were running wild with the possibilities of our next encounter. I sat there across from him wondering what to say or do next. “Say, what are you working toward?” I asked. I was genuinely curious.
“Pure mathematics,” he answered.
“Pure? What’s that mean? Math is math, isn’t it?”
He paused a moment, maybe considering his answer. “Well, not really, no.”
“Huh. I’m interested. Tell me more!”
“Well, for starters, there are a lot of different branches. It also makes for a solid base for the sciences, including engineering. Or you could teach.”
Apparently that was all I was going to get from him. For a few seconds we stared into each other’s eyes. I found myself wishing this would never end.
“What about you?” he asked, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Pre-med track. But I haven’t figured out where to go after that. After all this psych I have to take, maybe mental health.”
“Wow,” he said after a moment. “That doesn’t seem like something really clear or well-defined. You’ve got my respect! Oh and by the way,” he said with a smile, “mathematics will come into that, too!”
“Thanks! I think,” I answered. This was a fun conversation, but I didn’t know how it should end.
Frank ended it for us. “Say, if you don’t mind, I need to be going soon.”
Hopes dashed, but I don’t know what hopes there were, so that was all right. All I really knew right then was that I wanted to spend more time with him.
“No, don’t mind at all. We can pick this up later, but for now, we’ve got to get back to the studies.” I stood up and picked up my coat. Frank stood up at the same time and started to help me with it.
“Why, thank you, sir!” I said. What a gentleman, I thought! No one had ever done that for me! I began pulling on my gloves, looking at just them, but also, out of the corner of my eye, at Frank. It looked like he was completely alert and watching every move I made.
* * *
“We’ve got a study date Friday night!” I exclaimed once I was inside.
“No shit!” Andrea said.
“None indeed!” I answered. “The Monastery.”
“Wow,” she said. “That guy sounds serious about his studies.”
I caught them up on all the details of the meeting, particularly how cute Frank was, and how I couldn’t wait for our next meeting. I left out the part about how I was soaked right now and dying to “go to bed” with Mr. Cox, for a little relief.
* * *
The week passed in a blur of classes and studying.
Friday evening I got to the library early after my classes and settled into a table in the old section of the library – the Monastery – like we had talked about. I picked a table in the back that was mostly out of the way so we could have as much privacy as possible. I settled in and cracked open my books but I was so nervous I could scarcely keep my mind on my studies. I kept looking up, beyond the soft warm glow of the table lamps, wondering when I’d see Frank. I was dressed just the same as I was when we met at the Frontier. My nipples were hard and when I twisted my upper body, I felt the smooth satin of my cami skim across my boobs. I was getting fucking horny, and Frank wasn’t even here yet! I made sure to sit at the end of the long table, and extend my booted legs out into the aisle.
“Hiya,” Frank whispered. I jumped. It annoyed me that I hadn’t seen him come in, but the ancient floor was silent, and I swear, he had the footfalls of a cat. “Sit next to you?” he asked.
“Sure. Please.” My stomach knotted, and I felt my pulse in my throat.
“You’re likely to trip someone, holding your legs out in the aisle like that. Anyway, I’m looking forward to having a good study partner. Makes the hard work go by much faster.”
“Me too,” I answered. “Sometimes it gets a little rowdy at home.” That was true enough. What with Burt banging Shiela about three or four times a week, and Andrea coming home late at night with Mark, it was a little hard to concentrate on study! Oh, how I envied them! But with any luck, I might be able to come home with Frank, and do the same.
We were in a section of the course called “aberrant psychology,” which I found amusing, considering the present circumstances. On the other hand, was hooking up with a cute guy for sex really all that aberrant? Anyway, I already had my book open to the section, and was looking up at Frank and reading with equal attention.
We shortly got into the topic at hand when I noticed him slide his notebook over to me.
“Sexy boots, Meesha,” he’d written. “Very cute!”
“Thanks,” I said in a regular speaking voice. I noticed a few annoyed people look around them, and then at me. Absolute silence was apparently sacrosanct. Embarrassed, I went back to my book and notes, and thought about how to respond. In the margin of my notebook I wrote, “You’re cute, too.” I looked at him as I turned the notebook so he could see. I noticed him shift in his chair.
“You’re HOT,” he wrote back.
Another moisture missile, homing right in on my heat. I could feel my soft wetness as I shifted my legs.
I felt like a teenager again, this business of passing notes back and forth.
“Thank you. But we won’t get much studying done, like this,” I wrote back. The old hall was so quiet I could hear my pencil scratching on the paper.
“True enough,” he wrote back.
“Back to Milgram’s experiment,” I wrote.
I felt rather than heard his chair shift slightly toward me. Was this really happening?
I suddenly felt his lips on my cheek, and looked at him again. In the words of the song, I heard, I stole one kiss, it was a near miss, she looked at me like I was Jack the Ripper. Only I didn’t look at him that way. When I looked, his face was a picture of concentration on his book and notes. Now what? Return the favor, I thought. I leaned in close and pecked him on the cheek. He kept buried in his books.
So much for that, I thought. Shortly he passed his notebook toward me again. “HOT,” was all he had written.
“What’s hot?” I wrote back. The spot on my cheek where you kissed me is smoldering right now, for one thing, I thought.
“You are. Your boots. Your gloves. You are hot.” He had underlined last three words: “You are hot.”
I hesitated a minute, thinking about what to write back. Then I decided to go for it…
I took my gloves out of my coat pocket and slipped them on. “Get your dick out.” I wrote in the margin of my notebook, drawing a little smiley face next to it.
He just turned and stared at me, finally he wrote back. “Here?”
I just smiled back at him and placed my gloved hand on his leg.
He moved closer to me and pressed his lips to my ear. “Don’t do this, Meesha. Not here. We really don’t want to get thrown out. Let’s go outside.”
Somewhat disappointed, but knowing he was right, I gathered my books and notes and stuffed them into my backpack in a fit of frustration. Out of the Monastery and through the modern section of the library we went. We got outside.
“Um, not sure how to start this, Meesha. But do you really think a hand job in that part of the library is a good idea? Or any part of the library?”
I was a little embarrassed, but I knew it was true. I was a little irritated at being called out, too. “Well no, and thanks for stopping it, but I…” I had no idea how to finish the sentence.
“So am I, if that helps,” he said. “Care to make another date, that doesn’t involve books?”
Oh do I! “You know I do, Frank. We’ll find something soon enough.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his neck, and pulled him in close. My pulse was beating strongly in my throat, much as it had been when Andrea and I were kissing for the first time. I leaned in toward him, our lips nearly touching, and said, “Kiss.”
He responded. I thought back to my first-ever date, on prom night, and remembered Todd. He’d been all slobbery, grabby and gropey, but Frank was none of that. He was gentle, he was considerate, he was slow, and he followed my lead.
The touch when our lips came together was electric. We didn’t kiss full-on, not French kiss, but it was sensual and promising, saying “We’ll be back soon.”
“Until later,” he said as we came apart.
“Yeah. Later,” I answered. I moved my arms to his shoulders. “But not too much later.”
“Nope. Soon.”
* * *
I trudged back home through the snow, feeling a little sorry for myself, in addition to embarrassed. Frank was absolutely right: a handjob in the Monastery was a bad idea, or really, anywhere in public. I could think of a couple places (movies, maybe?) that’d be good, but that seemed pretty edgy, too. Privacy. Needed some privacy.
I was still pondering this as I let myself into the house.
“How’d it go?” Shiela asked.
“Yeah! Tell us everything!” Andrea added.
“It was a bust,” I answered.
“Huh?”
“Got carried away and suggested he get his cock out. Had some idea of jerking him off. I’ll just say that cooler heads prevailed.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. Got a little too eager, eh?” Andrea asked.
“He sort of started it,” I tried to explain. As soon as I said it I realized how lame it sounded. Instead I got out my psych. notebook and turned it to the most recent page, to where Frank had been writing in the margin. “Of course, that’s only half the conversation.”
“I think I see how things went,” she said. “Looks like you two hit it off well, though. I think I see sex in your future!” She handed the notebook back and I stuffed it back into my backpack.
“So what’s next?” Shiela asked.
“Wait and see, I guess.”
* * *
“Wait and see” turned into Monday morning. I got to class early – I was nearly the first one in the lecture hall – and for some reason, feeling irritated. I was a big ball of conflicted, confused emotions.
Then Frank came in. “Mind if I sit down here with you, instead of way in the back?” he asked.
The big ball dissolved into a smoldering heap of hot embers that promised to blaze up the moment I stirred them. Or if someone else stirred them for me. “Of course! Please do!”
“Hey, sorry about –” we started at the same time, and then both started laughing. I got my words out first. “I mean, I shouldn’t have been that forward, that eager, all that stuff.”
“And I shouldn’t have gotten all over your case like I did.”
“So we broke the ice, as the saying goes. Got any ideas?”
“For what’s next?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there’s the timeless classic of dinner and a movie,” he said.
“Depends if there’s anything good playing, but I’ve got some good ideas for dinner.”
“Well, if there isn’t, there’s always the very back row for some, um… well, you know…”
“I like the way you think. This Friday? I’ll make sure to get all my studies out of the way to avoid the guilt complex.”
“Really? I thought I was the only afflicted by that.”
“You lie, Frank. If you study in the Monastery, that practically makes you an honors student!”
“Yeah, and what about someone who tries to have sex there?”
Class started about then, plunging us into the middle of 19th century psychology, which was not a very pleasant topic.
The First Date!
Frank and I spent some good time together over the next several weeks. We couldn’t seem to find opportunity to study together and actually get something done, but it did feel like we were headed in that direction (to study together, that is). He was a serious student, and was turning out to be a good friend as well. Our schedules did not mesh well at all – there was rarely time after Psych for more than a hasty “see you later” – but we tried to make up for it in our off times. But no date yet, for reasons unknown.
On a winter day in February we made a casual date for lunch at the Student Union Box. I had a feeling that something was about to happen. Remember that “smoldering heap of hot embers” I wrote about earlier? Well, it had been well-stirred over the intervening weeks, and for some reason I spent most of that morning all hot and bothered. I couldn’t wait for lunch!
Eventually 11:30 came, and I walked into the SUB (which is what everyone called it). It was crowded as hell, and I had no idea where to find Frank. I wandered around for a while, searching either for him, or for a nice place to park. It happened I found both at once.
“Hiya,” I said, lightly tapping him on the arm.
He turned to face the touch. “Hi yourself, ma’am,” he said. “Buy you a coffee?”
“Sure. Black. No sugar. Simple.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Sandwich and a glass of water. Something like that,” I answered.
Shortly we were at a (relatively) quiet table, but certainly anonymous. I don’t know why that was important for me, but it was. Guess I had some sense that I’d have to account for this to my parents. Ah, fuck ’em, I thought. This is for me, not you, and you don’t rule my life anymore!
“Ssooo…” Frank started.
A pause filled the air as we looked at each other.
“Ssooo… you say, and then you drift off into oblivion. What’s on your mind?” I knew damn good and well what was on my own mind, and it was becoming more and more fixed: I wanted him to fuck me! I couldn’t help but wonder what was on his! But that’s not one of those things you can just out-and-out say, now, is it? Even so, I had an urge to press things beyond the “study buddies” thing.
“So I’ve been thinking, is what,” he said, capturing my eyes with his. “How ’bout a real, a proper, date? What would you say to that?”
Be still my beating heart! I’d just teased him about drifting into oblivion with his words, and now I was in the same place! I couldn’t find words to answer, and probably just sat there in dumb infatuation of my study partner.
“Meesha? Hello? I’m asking you out, silly!”
It took a Herculean effort to pull myself together and answer without sounding like a besotted fool. “Uh… um…” I stammered. “Of… of course!” I finally answered. I felt hot color rise to the tips of my ears.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Yeah, except for that fucking second heat-seeking moisture missile you just launched that hit me square in the twat! “I’m fine,” I lied, but I didn’t know what else to say. Finally I found my voice. “What do you have in mind?” I asked. I felt some semblance of self-control coming back.
“How about that timeless classic of dinner and a movie?”
I was all over that! “Where and what?” I asked, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Again. And again. This man had me in knots!
“The Cattle Baron, and I’ll let you pick the movie.”
The Cattle Baron! It was one of the most sought-after, most expensive, poshest (to borrow from the British) places around. Movie? Didn’t know, and so took out my phone. Huh! Turned out one of the theaters in town was showing “The Matrix” again. I was up for that; I’d enjoyed it the first time. I suggested this to him.
“But are you serious? About The Cattle Baron, I mean,” I asked after suggesting the movie.
“Yup.”
I just stared at him in something approaching adulation. The Cattle Baron! I was gonna have to dress up for this! Yes!
Many other thoughts came to mind, but I squelched them, all except for one. “Say, tell me. Where do you live, anyway?”
A flash of doubt or indecision seemed to cloud his expression for a moment. “Still living in the dorms,” he answered, then paused, as though embarrassed. “Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason, really.” Except that I want to get you alone for a while! Wished I could say that, but I just couldn’t. “Roommate?” I asked.
That was it, I saw.
“Ah. Ok. Dorms. One roommate, but he’s often gone in the evenings and weekends.” He left it at that, but I had the impression he wanted to say more.
Meaning we probably wouldn’t be bothered! Excellent! Although it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear – I’d preferred we could be guaranteed to be alone – this much could work for now. Often gone in the evenings and weekends, he said…
“Just curious,” I said after a bit. “That’s all.” That’s all, my ass. I had many, many ideas for when and how I was going to be losing my virginity, but the setting of a dorm room wasn’t exactly it. But what could I do? Or more explicitly, what did I care, as long as I had a hard cock shoved up inside my slippery cunt? And oh, how I loved that word Andrea had busted on me! Dirty, nasty, horny! But not to be shared casually outside a sexual setting. At least not yet, and who knew when, and with whom? With Frank, I hoped!
We settled on the details and spent the rest of the time just chatting until time ran out and we were nearly late for our next classes, at opposite ends of the campus.
Yes, I had just decided: Frank was the man for me!
* * *
We didn’t see anything of the other for the rest of the day, but that was all right. I made my way home, bursting with news, but also wanting to keep it all to myself. “Meesha’s Coming Out Party” was something I looked forward to but wanted to keep private at the same time.
Something must have shown in my face when I let myself in the front door.
“You look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary,” Shiela said. “What’s new?”
I couldn’t help it and burst into a huge grin. “Got a date, that’s what. Frank’s taking me to The Cattle Baron!”
Shiela broke into a huge grin, too. “For real? Girlfriend, you’re gonna have to get all dressed up for that!”
“I know it! And I can’t wait for it!” But thanks to my upbringing, I didn’t really know how to get “dressed up,” and there were only the two Haus Brau experiences to prepare me. That wasn’t going to be much in the way of prep. This was going to be refined and elegant, not college-town student looking for a quick, well… whatever it was we looked for.
“Think you’ll need some help?” Shiela asked.
“You know I will. Wore a dress once, to prom, but I imagine that’s way too formal for this, right?”
“It is. Still think you should go with a dress with a good neckline. Or maybe skirt and that sweater you’ve got?”
“But not jeans.”
“No, definitely not. I like that sweater. You’ve got some amazing cleavage going on!”
For some reason that embarrassed me, although we’d been pretty (*ahem*) intimate already. Crazy parents, again. “Sounds good. But I don’t have much else, but the boots.”
“That’s not a bad place to start,” she began. “But we need something elegant to top it off.” She stopped for a moment, her eyes moving up and down my body. I felt a little self-conscious, and told her so.
“Relax. You’ll be fine. The look we’re going for is refined, poised, confident, and the sexy will come after all that. What do you say to that?”
I sighed. The “Get Meesha Laid” thread was still wearing thin, but I liked her ideas and encouragement. “I guess so. What do you have in mind?”
“A black leather skirt with that excellent sweater on top. What say you?”
“A nice skirt. Not a mini. Like what you wore that time last fall.”
“Got it, I think. Two choices. Let’s go see!”
I followed her back to her bedroom, and realized I’d never been in it. No reason to, really, but I looked at the bed, and memories of her and Burt getting it on as I listened to them through the wall came to mind. I found myself getting all wet and hot & bothered again. Soon, I thought!
She combed through her closet and came out with two black leather skirts. She held one and then the other up to my hips, each of us trying to decide the right answer. “I think,” she said, “that the shorter one would be better. I want to see you in that ‘stolen’ bra,’ as you so commonly call it, too, and your sweater and boots.”
“Um…” I started, not sure where to start. “What goes under?”
“Under what? Oh… your legs?”
“Yeah.”
“Not pantyhose, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll give you a new pair of thigh-highs when you get dressed tonight. And we could go lingerie shopping sometime! Now go try on that skirt and stuff!”
Dutifully I left the room and went into mine. I stripped naked and stepped into fresh undies. Bra was next. “Stolen,” indeed! I thought back to when I’d kyped it as I pulled the cups over my boobies. Damn, that was hot. Or maybe it wasn’t so hot at the time. I remember how nervous, how scared, I’d been, and how fervently I’d hoped I wouldn’t get caught. How would I explain this episode of shoplifting to my parents? I had wondered. But didn’t get caught, got away with it, and went home and masturbated. While wearing the bra. These were the thoughts and memories going through my mind as I slipped the straps over my shoulders and fastened it. Next was the sweater, and then the boots.
Your boots. Your gloves. You are hot.I remembered my notebook interchange that one night in the Monastery. “Sexy boots, Meesha!” or something like that. Yeah, sexy is what you’re gonna get, guy! “Your boots. Your gloves. You are hot.” I remembered his words often, and also often, turned to that page in my notebook.
I chose a black bead necklace that fit so close it was nearly a choker and opened the door to Shiela waiting right outside.
“Wow,” she said.
“Yeah?” I was quickly warming to all this.
“Yeah. As in yeah, I think you’re gonna get some,” she answered.
My heart skipped a beat. Did I really want to, was I ready to, fuck, at this point? I knew I did, but I wanted to wait a little longer, for reasons I didn’t know. Maybe I was still looking for a slow buildup. “Ya think so?” I asked.
“I do. I’ve never told anyone this, guess there wasn’t ever a reason to, but Burt took me to bed in an outfit pretty similar to this after one of our dates.”
“Fuck…” I breathed. Again my mind flooded with the scene of her and Burt getting it on. Dammit, how I wanted to fuck like that! Hot and slippery, Andrea had said…
“Yeah? Soon, girlfriend, soon.” She stepped toward me and embraced me, but no kiss. But that was all right. I wasn’t feeling much like a make-out session.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her in close. “Thanks, Shiela,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”
She laughed and let go of me. “You’re welcome. Always welcome. Go change back into your college-girl clothes and let’s get to some book work.”
That broke me into a wide grin. “So this is all right?”
“Hell yeah it is, girl! And don’t forget your gloves!”
As if, right? Ha ha!
* * *
The doorbell promptly at seven, like Frank had said. I heard the bell ring, I knew who it was, but I let Andrea answer it.
“Frank?” I heard her ask.
I couldn’t make out his response. I shivered from head to toe, standing there in my boots, borrowed skirt, shoplifted bra, gifted stockings, and all. This was it!
“Come on in! Can I get you a drink?”
Still couldn’t make out his voice.
“Meesha?” I heard her ask down the hall. “Frank’s here! You ready?”
Was I ready. What a stupid question. Or maybe not. Was I? First ever real date? Maybe I was. I plucked up my courage and made my way out to the living room.
“Hi Frank!” I said.
“Hi yourself, Meesha! You look wonderful!”
The compliment went straight to the core of my heart. I melted. “Thank you,” I managed to say. I was a bundle of nerves. “Ready to go?” I asked.
I bundled into Shiela’s leather coat again and this time wrapped a scarf around my neck. I pulled my gloves on, making every effort to look seductive as I did so.
“Yup! Chauffer and driver waiting outside!”
“No way!” I said.
“Nah, you’re right. Average car, average American guy, beautiful girl.”
I melted more. I looked at Andrea, who winked. I let instinct and proper breeding (for once, parents, thank you!) take over. I took his proffered arm and he escorted me out the door to the car. I heard a soft “Good luck!” from Shiela as the door closed behind us.
He helped me into his car, and soon we were on our way. To the Cattle Baron. Easily, by far, the nicest place in town. And who knew what would follow afterward?
Frank was in a coat and tie, not black tie, but far more sophisticated that the average college guy.
* * *
Dinner was wonderful, and ended too soon. We talked about any number of things, from classes, to career aspirations, to growing up. Through it all, I couldn’t help but think I’d made the right choice. Frank was everything a woman could want: courteous, polite, attentive, he didn’t carry on about sports (although we each had our own favorite teams), and was generally a Nice Guy. We shared a delicious bottle of Chianti, but that was it in the way of alcohol. I was much more interested in the guy who sat opposite me, who attracted my every attention.
“Still interested in the movie, Meesha?” he asked toward the end of the dessert.
I thought for a while. I was feeling really relaxed and cozy and comfy, and the idea of sitting in a cramped theater seat wasn’t too appealing. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Truthfully, not really.”
“I don’t think I am, either.”
“So…”
“What’s next?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“My place, or some music and dance somewhere?” he asked. “Or drop you off at home?”
He sounded so crushed with that last question that I felt some pretty good sadness. I had to resurrect this before it was too late. I didn’t want to dance, but the music sounded good. “Your place. I’ll take you up on the music.” I suddenly found myself secretly going through my library of favorite music, which was pretty long and which spanned many centuries. “Excellent. I like the idea.”
* * *
Soon we were in Frank’s room. I’d felt a little self-conscious walking through the front doors, past the desk, and toward the stairs. I also felt pretty powerfully sexy though, walking with him arm in arm. I seemed to feel all the guys’ eyes on me, and I didn’t mind a bit! Ha hah! I thought. This is my guy, and I’m not your woman! A wave of confidence washed over me. Frank & I walked through the lobby and up the stairs.
* * *
“Don’t laugh,” he said as he opened the door.
“I promise I won’t.”
He swung open the door to a neatly-furnished dorm room. As he predicted, roommate was not there. Frank had said something earlier about him leaving for the weekend. Anyway, it was nicely carpeted, furnished with two beds, a sofa, and a functional sink. Kind of like Andrea and Shiela’s room had been, only nicer and a little roomier.
“What’s your pleasure?” he asked, looking through a sizeable collection.
“Jazz. Early 1930s. Soft. Mellow.” Music to give a full-on blowjob by, I thought. “Can you do that?”
“Mmm… maybe not. How ’bout the radio tuned in?”
“Ok.”
Soon those soft mellow notes that had been jiggeding in my head filled the room. I stripped my coat and laid it over the back of the sofa. I looked at Frank and patted the cushion right beside me. “Sit,” I invited him.
He sat, and I turned toward him. I placed a gloved hand on his thigh. No, I hadn’t taken my gloves off! Still had those quick scribbled notes in my notebook from that night in the Monastery in mind. Something about sexy gloves? And boots? Oh yeah! All that was flooding my mind!
“Mmm… got ideas or something?”
“Might,” I said, trying to sound seductive. I moved my face in close to his and lightly touched my lips to his. I had my lessons from Andrea firmly in mind. Our hands sought each other’s and came together, and soon we were caressing each other’s faces, necks, chests… and my boobies.
I scooted closer to him and did what I could, within the constraints of the skirt, to get a leg over his lap. Not close enough, I wanted more. I pulled my skirt up over my knees a little, and that did it. I straddled him and took his face in both hands. This was about to be some making out neither of us would forget for a long time!
Our lips met again. He didn’t open his mouth at all, just sort of slid them over mine. I did the same for him. I put out my tongue a couple times to keep our lips wet, and he reciprocated. Our tongues eventually met, and suddenly I was on fire. I tentatively opened my mouth against his, and invited him with my tongue to do the same. It wasn’t me who did the pushing, rather it was him that drew me in. Close and tight, and gentle lips and tongues together. I couldn’t believe how hot I was getting. Going tongue-to-tongue, lips-to-lips… I couldn’t get enough. And it was so, so much different than it had been with Andrea or Shiela.
I took my gloves off, never once breaking my connection to Frank. I had to feel his face with my bare hands! I got them there, and found his face to be, at the same time, rough and smooth. I slid my lips from his mouth to his cheeks, loving every second of it. Even though he was clean-shaven, his skin was still rougher than my roommates, and that turned me on and stoked the fire even hotter. I was really, truly, making out with a man! It was the stuff of dreams, and I still had all my clothes on! But not for long.
I broke the kiss and leaned back a little. “Gotta get outta this sweater, Frank,” I said. Within a second the sweater was gone, and I was straddling him in skirt and bra. I leaned into him again, seeking to find what I had broken moments earlier. “Touch my breasts,” I whispered, in between kisses.
Touch he did, getting inside my bra cups and seeking out my nipples. This was not enough, I thought. I reached to my shoulders and pulled the straps down. The cups came away at the same time. “Suck my breasts, Frank. Suck my breasts.”
A man’s hands on my tits. The touch was electric, but I wasn’t prepared for the next part: his mouth, suddenly but gently sucking on my nipple. Oh fuck and oh fuck and I gotta come now!
I put my hands behind his head and pulled him in closer. I absolutely had to have those lips, that tongue, on my breasts!
Soon I found myself grinding into his legs as he sucked on me. I began rubbing his crotch with one hand while with the other at the back of his head, I kept his face to my boobies. The grinding grew more urgent, and I knew I was close to coming. But I wanted something first.
Almost reluctantly, I moved my chest away from him and fixed my bra. “How about you stand up, Frank.”
“Huh?” he answered. He sounded drunk. I imagine it was drunk with lust.
“Yeah. I wanna blow you.”
No verbal response, but he stood up pretty quickly.
“Drop your pants, lover,” I said.
No response still, but a quick movement of the hands to do as I’d asked. As his boxers came down, his cock sprang free. I looked at it, totally transfixed. I was almost afraid to touch it, even though my lifetime score so far was two nobbers. This was different, for some reason.
I reached out my trembling hands and took his meat. I was entranced. It was hot, hard, and dripping a little. Just clear, but I knew damn good and well what it was. My pussy screamed out for relief, for release, for orgasm, but I knew I had to have this first. I gently placed my lips to the head of his cock. This was about to be my first real blow job!
I thought of something, something that’d get me even hornier, if that was possible. “Gonna put my gloves back on, babe,” I said. Babe? Where the fuck’d that come from? Ah, who cares, I thought.
“Why?”
“‘Cuz it’s hornier that way,” I managed to say. To tell the truth, I’d dreamed about this moment, and I wasn’t about to let go of it!
I reveled in the stretch of the fingers and palms as I pulled them on. I had one thing in mind as I smoothed them over my wrists: “Sexy gloves, Meesha,” or something like that, written in my notebook, urging me on.
I reached out and took him in both hands and led him to my mouth.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” I heard him whisper.
“Fuckin’ a right,” I answered in similar voice. I wrapped my lips around his meat. He was rock-hard and pulsing. I knew this was gonna be a fantastic blowjob, and one to remember. I took him deeper. The feeling of him slipping back toward my throat, along my tongue, was absolute bliss. I took him deeper, to the point where I truly felt him bumping the back of my throat, but there was no gag reflex. Yeah!
Slowly and carefully I eased back. I wanted to keep him firmly in my mouth, but I wanted to pleasure him at the same time. I knew that just staying there sucking on that great piece of manhood was going to do it for him, and that we both had to be equal partners in our pleasure. I let him slip from my mouth and spoke.
“How’s this? What think you so far?” I kept a firm hold on him, one gloved hand at the bottom of his cock, and the other, gripping his balls.
“Keep going,” was all he said.
I swallowed him again. That was all the conversation there was going to be, I decided. Yeah, keep going. You could tell me a little more, I thought. What is it you want me to do? Instead, I let instinct take over, and do what I thought I might like, if I were a guy.
I took him about half way in, and started sucking mightily, as you might suck a milkshake through a straw.
That got him. He shuddered from head to toe, let out a deep groan, and put both hands behind my head in an effort to take himself deeper.
But I wasn’t having any of it, and I pushed back. Right at the back of my tongue was where I wanted him. Well, that and slipping up and down while I sucked.
I bobbed my head up and down on his man-meat, reveling in every sense. I saw it. I touched it. I could smell him. I could taste him. I heard his groans of ecstasy as I let him screw my mouth as I went up and down on him.
“Oh fuck, Meesha,” he moaned. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna come in your mouth.”
I had him out of my mouth, my tongue swirling around the head, one hand gripping his balls, when it happened. I was almost too late, but I got back onto him in time. I had barely got him to the back of my throat when he let go with a deep grunt.
It happened in a second, and it was over in ten. In those precious ten seconds, he flooded my mouth with his semen. I couldn’t believe how horny I was. I felt each thrust, each throb, each pulse as he came in my mouth. I reached one hand down and none-too-gently squeezed his nut sack. “Give it to me, Frank. Give it all to me.” I almost couldn’t speak for the extra juice in my mouth. I squeezed hard and heard him moan. I couldn’t believe how much there was. I sat up and took my hands away from him. I placed one hand at my lips, and the other at my throat. I swallowed.
My first completed blowjob! And oh fuck, was I horny! I had to do something to relieve the sexual stress I felt. I knew exactly what it was I wanted.
“We have to do something else,” I said.
He groaned in his post-orgasmic bliss. “I’ll do whatever you want, darling.”
Something pulled me back to the here-and-now; it was the quiet notes of a saxophone and the swish of brushes on a drum. I wish I could remember the name of the piece and the composer, but I can’t. Every once in a while I’ve heard it, and it nearly always gets me hot. Yeah, that choice of music was a good idea. But I’ve dwelt enough on that. Back to the date night.
“I’ve gotta have you eat my puss,” I said. “Give me a good orgasm, at least as good as I gave you.” I thought about what I’d just said. “Well, I mean, if it really was good,” I said.
“Good? Fuck, Meesha!” he looked down at me, a look of appreciation (awe, adoration, worship?) in his eyes. “I’d like to give you at least as good!”
“Let’s do it!” I said, standing up. “How about you lick and suck my puss?” Not waiting for an answer, I laid down on what I thought was his bed (not his roomie’s that is). I pulled my skirt up and my undies down and off. I felt obscenely exposed, but was so, so glad I’d taken Andrea’s taunt to heart: I was wearing a pair with “This is Friday” on the white waist band, black down below, with the words “Eat here!” and an arrow. Certainly not something my parents would approve of!
“Skirt on or off?” he asked.
“Off, if you please,” I answered. I raised my hips up to help him, at the same time drawing down the zipper in back. I wriggled out of it, and with his help, it soon landed on the floor with my sweater and bra. Damn, this was going to be so, so hot!
Frank was on the bed in a second, and had his mouth on my pussy in the next. He pressed two fingers against me, opening my outer lips. With his other hand, in concert with his mouth, he began tongue lashing my clit. I was so wet! He began gently sucking on my clit and attacking it with his tongue, while working his fingers in and out of me. This was so, so much better than Mr. Cox! My heat was nearly unbearable, but I knew I’d have to wait. After a considerable effort to focus my attention on the here and now, I let go and let Frank go at my pussy as he wanted. I was beside myself with lust, and soon began shaking and rolling my head back and forth. My orgasm wasn’t far off!
“Three fingers, baby. Then I’ll make you come,” he said.
I didn’t say anything but I didn’t care. I felt an increased pressure in my vagina. Three fingers, is that what he said? I didn’t really care, so long as he kept up his oral action on my clit and the other point of our joining, with his fingers pumping in and out.
All the pressure and tension and stress of the evening, and maybe before, came together at once.
In a sudden rush of heat I went over the edge. “Ohmigod, Frank! I’m… I’m… I’m coming! Do me, Frank, do me hard!” That was the extent of my speech. I think I may have squealed in delight, I don’t know, in fact, I don’t care. I do remember that his oral attention on my clit and his fingers in my puss pushed me right over the edge into orgasmic bliss and stayed there until well after I was done, although he slowed his ministrations as I came down.
I think he slowed down, to allow me some time to recover, and then stood up. I was hot, but no longer bothered. Just hot. An enormous sense of tremendous relaxation enveloped me, and I was nearly tempted to strip my clothes and crawl into bed with him. But I knew I couldn’t do it. Not yet. It depended on where this relationship was going to go! I knew where I wanted it go, but now was not the time to choose. Instead, I lay there on his bed, immersed in a great sense of peace and relaxation. I could so easily go to sleep, right there! But it wasn’t time for that. Not yet. And who knew if Frank was the right guy for me. I knew I’d find out sooner or later, but honestly, right then I couldn’t be bothered to think of it. Frank brought me out of my reverie.
“I take it you liked that?”
It took me a moment to process his words. “You could say that, yes.” I rolled over to one side, my stocking-clad legs and crotch still obscenely exposed. I looked at him. First-time confessions did not seem to be in order, but I had to say something.
“Frank, that was fantastic! But let me ask you a question: do you practice that?”
“Not often. Maybe three, four times before?”
Three or four? He was nearly a novice at this as I was!
“Something bothering you, Meesha?”
I decided that maybe first-time confessions would be all right. “No, not at all. However, I should tell you that you’re the first to have eaten me out.” Besides Andrea, that is, but it seemed neither the time nor the place to bring that up. Maybe not ever. Anyway…
“Really? Well, I’m honored to have the privilege! And about that blowjob? That was fan-fucking-tastic! So may ask you? Do you practice that?”
It was an embarrassing question, in a way. I sat up and swung my feet off the bed, and grabbed my skirt, sweater, bra and undies. “You were the third,” I said, as I stood up to get it all on and return to some sense of dignity.
“No shit?”
“None! I did it with a guy last semester, and then another one a month or so ago. Didn’t swallow, though. He gave me a nice set of pearls. So, you’re the first I’ve taken to completion!”
Neither of us seemed to know what to say or do. After a couple moments of staring into each other’s eyes, he took my hands, still in my gloves. He kissed both hands.
“Sit,” he directed.
I wondered why, but I sat back down on the bed. Ah ha… that was it. His hands went from my gloves to my boots. He unzipped it and placed a kiss right on the inside of my calf. “I love a woman in boots, Meesha. And your gloves really add to it!” With that he zipped it back up and helped me to my feet.
“Think we’ll fuck soon?” I asked without thinking. I was immediately embarrassed and ashamed and the “cat was out of the bag.” No going back now.
He stared at me, a surprised look on his face. “Dang, Meesh,” he finally said. “That’s pretty bold and to the point, isn’t it?”
I had to answer before he could get another word in. With that short conversation, I knew I had to keep it going. “Well yeah. I mean, I just thought, er… what I mean is… I mean I spoke before thinking -”
“Thought you did,” he said with a grin. “I’d have to say yes, I think we will. I mean, if that’s all right with you?”
It seemed strange, standing there talking about something so private, so intimate, so intense, but so casually, as if it weren’t anything special. Which I knew it was going to be. Very special, that is. I took his hands and drew him in. “Then I think the question’s settled,” I said. “Kiss.”
We came together like two long-time lovers and kissed deeply.
* * *
Frank drove me back home, and we shared another deep kiss in the driveway.
“See you soon?” he asked.
“Certainly by Monday morning,” I said. “And you’ll sit next to me?”
“You know I will.”
“Looking forward to it, lover.” I pecked him on the cheek and got out of the car. I watched his tail lights disappear in the falling snow, the evening now but a memory.
The Summary for My Friends
I managed to get my keys out and our front door unlocked without taking off my gloves. As I walked into our apartment, I found Andrea and Shiela sitting on the sofa in the living room, apparently all ready for bed.
I looked at the clock; it was about 11:30. “What the hell are you two doing? Did my parents put you up to this or something?” I was a little irritated for some reason. I wanted to be alone with the afterglow of my evening together with Frank, not so much hanging out with my two, clearly drunk, friends.
They looked at each other and broke into laughter.
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“We’re not!” Andrea answered.
“Just tipsy!” Shiela added.
The two empty bottles of Chardonnay on the coffee table put the lie to them. “Yeah right. But anyway, I gave Frank my first real blow job then had him eat me out!” Irritation aside, I knew when I said it that I simply had to share the news!
That sobered them up. Shiela’s mouth dropped open. Andrea stopped her giggling and stared. “For real?”
“For real!” I answered. “I don’t suppose you left any wine,” I said, but I couldn’t help it and broke into a big grin. Fuck the wine! Who needs it after this evening’s events? I’d just made it to third base with my partner, and I was pretty sure I wanted him to fuck me! My pussy still felt all warm and a little tingly and I could still feel the hot pressure of his lips on mine as we kissed at the end of our date. I thought over all the preceding events of the evening.
“Oh fuck yeah, for real. I let him come in my mouth, as deep as I could take him, and I swallowed it all. Then I had him do me!”
There was silence for a moment while my two inebriated friends contemplated this. “Fuck that’s horny,” Shiela whispered, looking at me in what I supposed was wonder.
“Damn straight it is,” Andrea said.
“He apparently has this thing for boots and gloves too,” I added.
“Huh. Sounds like you found a pretty good lover, girl. Guy with a thing for boots and gloves too?” She leaned back into the sofa cushions and put her head back. “Fuck, I’m drunk,” she said to no one in particular. Then, “Wonder what he’d think of some more leather, Meesh.” She was still staring at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts.
I looked at her, wondering what she was thinking about. I hoped that whatever it was, she’d be able to remember it in the morning. I had the impression that her train of thought was going down certain pathways promising plenty of hot slipperiness.
I realized I was still fully dressed for the weather and began taking off my gloves and overcoat.
“So did you wear your gloves while you blew him?” Shiela asked.
“Damn straight, I did! In fact, I scarcely had ’em off the whole time I was there!”
“Wow. You got a kink streak no one knows about?”
The question sort of shocked me, but only for a moment. I finished taking off my overcoat then put my gloves back on. I looked Shiela straight in the eyes as I put one booted leg up on the coffee table and laid a hand on it. “Maybe,” I said suggestively, moving my gloved hands up and down my boot.
“Fuck that’s hot,” she said as she watched me. “Maybe you should wear your boots and gloves if you decide to fuck him.”
“Mmm?” Andrea murmured, still with her head back. “Fuck who?”
“Go back to sleep,” Shiela said.
That interrupted my trip down Fantasy Lane enough that I didn’t want to continue my impromptu “fashion show.” I looked at the clock again: 11:45, and we were all still up. Well, mostly up. I looked at Andrea, still with her head back and apparently asleep. It was going to take me and Shiela both to get her to bed.
In the end, we got her there and looking comfortable. I pitied her come the morning coming, though.
“Hate to be a party pooper,” I said to Shiela. “But I’m going to bed.”
Shiela stifled a yawn and a hiccup. She was another for whom the morning sun was going to be too early. “Nope. That’s all right. Not a party pooper. Gotta quit sometime, and it has been a late night. Besides, there’s all that wine…” She wandered into her bedroom and shut the door. She opened her door again. “And congratulations, girl! Bet I know what you’re doing in a little while!”
I was alone now, still wearing my boots and gloves, and beginning to feel horny again.
I walked quietly into my room, softly closed the door, and got out Mr Cox. “Got a kink streak no one knows about?” she’d asked. Yep, I think so! Instead of getting undressed, except my Friday Eat Here undies that I quickly shed, I hitched up my skirt and lay back on the bed, legs spread. Nope, no foreplay. Just like that first time with this fake cock. Well, maybe a little bit… I spent some time caressing my legs, covered in the stockings, with my gloved hands. The horny factor was climbing rapidly. I picked up Mr Cox, turned him on, and gave him a good licking, anticipating the up-coming rush of pleasure. Finally I could no longer stand it.
I sucked my breath in, arched my back, and buried it to the base in one smooth motion. I was coming almost immediately. I couldn’t bear to pull it out yet, and just laid there, kinda moving it in and out of me in sharp, short little thrusts, as the tidal waves of orgasm thundered over and through me.
I longed for the touch of a lover.
Apparently I went to sleep just like that, fully clothed, legs obscenely spread, and dildo in hand, because next I looked at the clock, I saw 3:30 am. I got up, yawned, undressed, put Mr Cox away, visited the bathroom, and crawled into bed.
It had been a good night.
“Got a kink streak no one knows about?” I heard again as I drifted off. Yes, I think I do, I answered.