The Opening — Part Three

For the beginning of the story click here

The next few days were torture. Each minute that brought the evening of the dinner closer seemed to take three times as long as it should to tick by. The morning of the anticipated day I got up early so I would have plenty of time to shower, shave, dress for work and pack what I was wearing that evening in my car. There wouldn’t be time to come home before the reservation so I planned to freshen up and change at work after everyone left and then meet him at the restaurant.

Five o’clock drew near and he stepped into my cubicle.

“Are you about done for the day?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered and glanced around to make sure no one was around to overhear before saying, “I brought my dress. It’s in the car.”

“Good,” he said with a slow smile, “You can change at my place. I’m leaving in ten minutes. You can follow me.”

I blinked, nodded and began shutting my work down for the day. When I stood to leave ten minutes later I realized I was trembling from head to toe. Thankfully I had brought a change of underwear because the black lacy panties I had worn all day were soaked. We timed our departure so that he walked out just ahead of me and was in his car waiting as I slid into my seat. I cranked the engine and Nora Jones’ voice filled the space. Minutes later we were in his driveway. I retrieved my things from the trunk and followed him inside.

His house was in one of the nice older, established neighborhoods and tucked under large live oak trees. He took my bag and purse and laid them on the couch we passed on the way to the kitchen. I don’t remember what we talked about, but there was a constant stream of conversation and even with me being wound as tight as a piano wire, I was comfortable.

He reached into the cabinet, pulled out two highball glasses and added ice, vodka, Sprite and lime to one and vodka and a splash of water to the other. He handed me the one with the Sprite. He took a sip and watched me down a long swallow. I set my drink on the counter behind me and stood with my back against it, palms resting on its cool surface.

He set his drink down as well, took a purposeful step toward me and stopped, leaving three inches of space between our bodies. His aftershave smelled of fresh pine and sandalwood. That one long moment before he dipped his head and put his lips to mine was the proverbial calm before the storm. Lightning.

I had been kissed before. But not like that, not expertly. He wrapped his arms around me, lifted me off the floor and in six long strides had me tossed across his bed. I sat up and held my arms in the air for him to strip off my striped knit top. In one smooth motion he rid me of my shirt and bra. I leaned back against the pillows and he straddled my waist, devouring my mouth and breasts in turn. My back arched toward him wanting more. He took his time and it wasn’t until my hips started slowly circling in a rhythm as old as time that the reached for the button on my black trousers.

Now, at this time in my life, my boundaries were pretty simple: anything but intercourse. This meant the pants stayed on.

“Wait,” I gasped, “I’m sorry. You can’t. I’m not. I have to be careful. Not. On. Pill.”

I could hardly string together a coherent thought and my crotch was throbbing. I wasn’t a virgin, but it had been six years since I had allowed penetration and it wasn’t happening that evening.

“I’m still going to take your pants off,” he said grinning.

“But why?”

I didn’t understand his plan. When he realized that his grin got even larger.

“You’ll see,” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

“But you won’t put it in?”

“No, I won’t,” he said, “Even if you ask me to.”

I let him unbutton my pants and pull them off. He removed his own shirt and stood above me, looking down at my body. He touched the soaked patch on my panties, as if testing it. Then he put a hand on each of side of my hips and slid the lacey undies down my legs, over my feet and tossed them on the floor.

My knees were bent. He crawled back on the bed, pushed them apart and slipped a finger inside.

“God, your wet.”

My legs fell open.

Then he dipped his head and proceeded with my opening.

“What are you… Oh! My! God!”

Years of practice had made him an expert and I was reaping the benefits. He feasted between my legs with a hungry mouth and knowing fingers until I felt this rush of uncontrollable pleasure pouring through my body. It consumed me. I tried to buck away but he only grabbed my hips and pulled me tighter against his working mouth, tongue and hand. The licking, flicking, sucking and thrusting—it didn’t stop. It just kept getting deeper, harder, better.

And then it happened. My body opened and my first true orgasm came rushing out with a force so powerful I felt like I was levitating off the bed.

I screamed.

I saw black spots.

I couldn’t move except to take deep panting breaths.

He lifted his head and looked at me.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered, “Oh my God, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

He eased up the bed and wrapped his arms around me, rocking my shocked being against his bare chest. I clung to him as he seemed to be the only solid object in a spinning world.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” I said again.

He shook his head and said, “Boys these days,” before kissing my lips.

___________________________________________________________________

When I finish writing this story I had no idea THIS would happen. 

26 thoughts on “The Opening — Part Three

  1. Pingback: The Opening — Part Two | Creative Noodling

  2. “I didn’t know,” I whispered, “Oh my God, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

    i assumed he was going to get up with blood on his face because she “didn’t know” she was getting her period. i’m glad i was wrong.

  3. Indeed ” boys these days”. So much I want to write but your readers might think I’m a complete freak LOL…but if this man lessons…I enjoyed reading it :)

  4. “it wasn’t until my hips started slowly circling in a rhythm as old as time that the reached for the button on my black trousers”

    Love the description almost as much as the action itself… the subconscious cue that you give and that he waits for.

  5. Pingback: A Decade Is Nothing (And Everything) — Part One | Creative Noodling

  6. If only all men were willing to give women ALL forms of pleasure. right?
    Personally, I love the idea of treating a woman to more than just the “same old, same old”!

  7. Haha, black spots. I’m afraid I hear those too, so I would have no idea if I screamed unless informed of it later.

    I have three things to say here. First, the three part build-up was awesome. I was horribly excited by the time he said you could change at his place. Also a little scared, but that’s part of the excitement of it, which I feel a tad guilty admitting. Nora. Jones. :) At the end, “he seemed to be the only solid object in a spinning world” is just a great description!

    Second, I hope my boss isn’t reading stuff like this, cuz, um yeah, the only word I could possibly have for that is awkward. There would be a complaint filed like right now.

    Third, remember back after part one, where I said this is so never going to happen to me? There are some of us who attract a um… different kind of man. I’m just going to unabashedly share what I mean. Enjoy. :)

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