Yeah, I know it’s been awhile . . . life is stupid when it gets in the way. Just a fun little “intro” story that I think you’ll all enjoy… Seeing as he can never be late, for anything, he arrived at the bar early. Well, early isn’t the right term – they had agreed “whenever the heck we get there,” but he was there first, and that’s what he wanted. The bar had his favorite Scotch on the top shelf. And, soon enough, the bottle had two fewer shots in it. He sipped a glass of zinfandel – red zinfandel, he couldn’t stand the pink stuff. And he worried that she’d be a fan of the pink stuff. He’d get over it, if that were the case. She texted him about traffic woes, and his heart sank just the slightest bit. Was that a ruse that she was going to pull out? It wouldn’t surprise him (was he even really sure what was going on?), but he obsessed about things like that. Then he thought that she could simply stiff him – not bother showing up, not bother explaining that she wasn’t coming, and he felt better. And then he saw her. She walked in, frantic, looking about the bar, making eye contact with everyone. She froze when their gazes met. A server taking a corner table their appetizer had to make a detour when she stepped into the path, but she didn’t notice. She walked, timidly, toward him, and he stood. He reached out to hug her, and her lips brushed his cheek. “So good to see you,” he said when the embrace, which lasted a good bit longer than most embraces might last, was broken. “I. Have. To. Pee,” she exclaimed, putting her purse down and running to the restroom. He went back to his wine. The bartender asked him what she was drinking and he felt truly guilty – he had no clue. He knew she drank wine, but no idea what. He knew she drank “sweet cocktails,” but he didn’t know if she was in that kind of mood. Sheepishly, he said that they’d have to wait. A minute or two later, she emerged from the ladies room, smoothing her little black dress as she saw him again. She sat at the bar next to him, and they both laughed, nervously. The bartender looked her way and she said, simply “watermelon martini.” They talked about the small stuff – the drive over, how they took their coffee, if they were capable of eating (they, each, were too nervous). At some point, mid laugh, his hand found itself on her knee, where it stayed. The air grew silent for several moments as they looked at each other. He was in fact, hungry. The bartender came by and asked them if they wanted another round – and they obliged. His hand stayed on her knee, she rested her elbow on the bar and her head on her hand and she looked at him. They drank their drinks. And, suddenly, it was his turn to visit the restroom. His hand traced from her knee, over the outside of her thigh, and over her arm. He didn’t notice her shudder. Returning, he traced his fingers over her shoulder, following the line of her bra strap, removing his hand just before the line of “perhaps this touch shouldn’t be done in public” was crossed. She downed the rest of her drink in a single gulp. The bartender asked again if they were having another, and just as he started to say “yes,” she said “no, I think we’re good.” “One check or two?” the bartender queried, and he chimed in with one. She offered to pick up the bill, but he refused, leaving cash on the bar. Offering her his hand, he lead her from her seat and they exited. “It was really, really great to get together,” he said outside, pushing a stray hair aside on her face, tracing his fingers along her jawline. Her eyes closed and his gaze was upon her face so he didn’t see her clench her fists as she held the front of her dress. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, whispering “until next time,” holding his face right there. She reached out, placing her hand directly between his legs, relishing that he was hard. “The answer,” she whispered back, “to that unasked question is ‘yes’”. He took both her hands and they walked to the hotel next door. A credit card was shown, some papers signed, and a plastic key was handed to him. Hand in hand they walked, silently. The door opened and he pressed her against the wall. His hands all over her. He made two lines down her shoulders, over her breasts, over her belly and hips and thighs. He found the hem of her dress and worked his way up, finding her panties, tracing his fingers inside, relishing at how wet she was. She sighed and bit his lip when he reached her sex. When he pulled back, just a bit, her eyes opened and she held him to her, grinding her crotch against his as well as two clothed beings can. They walked, together to the bed. Once horizontal, they locked lips again. Minutes passed as if they were middle-schoolers and their chaperones had given them just a minute of privacy. The kiss was beautiful in its shear uglyness, with tongues flying, hands exploring. There was need and hunger and lust. His right hand found its way under her dress, yet again. And he teased her panties down. But, for her, it wasn’t fast enough and her hands left his chest and guided them to the floor. When she went to kiss him again, he had moved. His knees were on the floor by the bed and he started licking up her thigh. She reached out to try to pull him up – she wasn’t done with the kiss, but he didn’t respond to her yank. And when his breath reached her pussy lips, she let him do what he may. The fingers of his right hand traced her lips as he worked in the dark under her dress. Slowly, he licked, pressing his tongue into her with all of his might. He licked with long, slow licks that made her writhe and gasp. And then two fingers were in her, and his tongue toyed with her clitoris as he pressed in and up, trying to find just that spot…and with a “come hither” movement, he found it. She sat upright, pushing down on the bed with both of her hands, her eyes wide open. Her movement was so quick that his tongue and lips lost contact with her lips, if only for a moment. He fingered and she spoke in tongues as his tongue went back to teasing. And then, her breathing truly haggard, he took tat little button between his lips and toyed it into and out of his mouth. She collapsed on the bed, her body shuddering as he pressed his fingers deep into her, and gave tiny little, tickling flitterings with his tongue. Minutes passed, and her body giving off countless little aftershocks. With one last lick, he emerged from under her skirt and they resumed the kiss. Only, this time, he fumbled with her clothing. Somehow, they were both nude, though neither could tell you the events that transpired to make that so. His clothes were in a heap on the pillow, hers, in a pile on the floor. She reached with her lips to kiss him yet again, and then stood frozen. He, simply, looked at her. They had teased each other, mercilessly, with pictures before the lead-up, but there is no replacement for “seeing for the first time.” Self-consciously, she covered her breasts with her left arm, and he whispered “no.” “You’re beautiful – please, let my eyes feast,” and she dropped her arm, giving her shoulders a little wiggle, allowing her tits to jiggle. She smiled and let her eyes wander down to his cock. As he stood off the bed, she maneuvered so that she was on her stomach, his cock in her mouth. She devoured him as if his seed would be her first meal in a week. If you asked her, before this day, how she approached giving head, she’d have said that she prided herself in teasing, in making cocksucking into a game. But, today, there was no subtlety. Mustering the strength of Solomon, he grasped her by the shoulders and forced her into her back. She moved to get up, but he jumped on her. For a second they lie, his body weight pressing against her, and then his cock found her sex and they moved as one. His arms cradled her as her fingernails found his back, and they pumped into each other like a couple who had years of experience in pleasing one-another. She arched her back and his hands moved from behind her shoulders to her breasts. They moved together, panting, moaning. She squealed and they locked eyes . . . and then she saw the look in his eyes. “I want to taste it,” she said, breathlessly, and he withdrew. Masturbating his cock for only a second, he got to his knees and she then took over, on her stomach. It only took a few seconds until he exploded. She swallowed every drop. He collapsed onto the bed, next to her, and her head nestled into his shoulder. They cuddled, his fingertips writing sweet little nothings down her spine. She sighed. For a few moments, she thought he might fall asleep, but he noticed the little wiggle in her hips every time his fingertips neared her ass. His fingers lost contact with her skin for a moment, and she actually gasped, then really gasped when his fingers came down on her bottom. Instead of a move to protect herself, she pushed her head deeper into his and ground her hips against the bed, allowing her legs to part just slightly. The next spank was harder. And the next one even harder. Soon, they came into a rhythm, matching her breathing and the dry-humping she was doing to the bed. Ten, twenty, two hundred? She had no clue. When his blows landed, he was touching her, and that made her that much more alive. When her ass started to grow numb, the spankings stopped, and she looked up just as he crawled on top of her. Spreading her legs with his own, he thrust his cock into her wet pussy from behind, and slowly worked his way into & out of her as he kissed the back of her neck, his hands tracing their way down her side. He pushed himself deeply into her, and still kissing the back of her neck, grabbed her hair. He yanked her up and onto her knees. With both hands, he grabbed her hips and forced her into him as he pressed against her. If the spankings from before weren’t going to bruise her bottom, the thrusting of his hips into her ass certainly would. She’d remember this fuck for a solid week afterward. Powerful thrust after powerful thrust came until he let go of her hips and, again, grabbed her hair. And with one last thrust, he called out her name. She felt his seed fill her, and could feel it starting to drip out. They both collapsed to the bed in a sweaty heap. “I have to get going, I fear I’m already late,” she said. “I know,” he replied, trying to get off the bed, and failing. She rose, poured two glasses of water from the tap and handed one to him as he sat upright. “We need to be introduced to each other again, and soon,” she smirked, struggling to get her panties back on (really, is there any way to do this gracefully when you’re being watched?). “We will . . . oh, we will” he replied.