Date Nite - Second Act

Dinner was going well. It usually does. No matter what sort of mood I'm in, once I sit down and we start talking over a few glasses of wine, I relax. My fears, insecurities, all those irrational thoughts melt away. I like it. Sometimes I wish I could live just like this. In our little bubble. Anyway, our conversation is good. I'm looking at her and thinking how gorgeous she looks. I look up and see the woman I clocked before a couple of tables over. Odd pick for a couple. She looks like she's not having a great time. Almost like she doesn't want to be there. He's gesticulating and talking too much. It looks to be about himself. I can see his legs outstretched under the table. Hers are firmly placed under her chair. Not a good sign. She looks up at me. Our eyes lock briefly. I can't place what it is about her, but we have some sort of connection. I don't know her do I? She gives me a slightly sad and longing smile.

We're at the table, my date and I. His name is Brad and so far I know a whole lot about him as he has not stopped talking about himself since he tapped me on the shoulder 20 minutes ago. I wish I had organised a friend as an excuse - you know the kind where you text them and then they call you with some fake emergency which gives you are decent reason to leave the date? All I can come up with as my reason so far is that he is quite obviously a douche bag. Perhaps I am too quick to judge. So far Brad has talked about his job - he's an investment banker; his car - he drives a Lexus and his house. He hasn't once stopped to ask me anything about myself but still I sit, waiting for our meal, drinking our shared bottle of wine at an alarming rate. I nod and smile, although I think it wouldn't even matter whether I was there or not. I suspect he could talk this way to a brick wall. My eyes meet with the guy I spotted at the bar earlier. I give him one of my "please help me" looks and a wan smile, as if that is going to save me from the situation. I still think I know him. I wish right now I did. I would rather be sitting at his table with his girlfriend that with Brad the lad.

The night has progressed somewhat. I've become a bit obsessed with the girl at the other table. Maybe I'm being judgemental but the guy just looks like a dick. She isn't enjoying herself any more than when I first saw her. If anything she looks ready to run from the restaurant. I'm giving a running commentary to my lady. She's intrigued too. We start chatting about this woman. Assessing her. I'm surprised by the path of the conversation. It's odd for her to let me discuss my (can't place it) attraction with this woman. For some reason it seems natural. She gets up to go to the bathroom to eavesdrop on their conversation. Unlike me she has to know the tone of the conversation. She walks past slowly, stopping the waitress while next to their table. I can tell she's listening. Sly... She continues on to the bathroom. The woman gets up a minute later and heads in the same direction.

I am still being bombarding with Everything Brad. While I'm all for a healthy self esteem, Brad takes the concept to a whole new level. In my periphery I notice the female part of the couple from the table nearby get up and start talking to a waitress nearby, before heading off to the toilet. With the amount of wine I have consumed I need to go too. I excuse myself and walk off. One stall is taken and the other I enter before sitting with my head in my hands. I mutter, "Oh god" out loud and hear a chuckle from the neighbouring cubicle. It must be the woman who is part of the couple. She says, "Having a rough night?" We both leave the cubicles at the same time and wash our hands as we chat. I tell her about my appalling blind date and plead with her to shoot me now and put me out of my misery. We laugh and our eyes meet. It's one of those rare moments you have where you lock eyes and experience a connection. It is only fleeting but it makes my heart beat a little faster. It's just nice to be able to vent to someone, and have them listen and laugh and share a moment. She walks out before me, and she has the most lush arse I have seen in a very long time. I let my eyes linger on it as she walks out and heads back to her table. It's back to reality for me, in the company of the tedious Brad. I sigh inwardly and order another bottle of wine.

My lady comes back to the table after taking a bit of time. Apparently she's met the woman from the other table. It's a bad blind date. I laugh. Never really have those myself, although I'm not the blind dating kind. It's too awkward for me. The woman seems to be at her wit's end. I chat a bit more with my lady but keep drifting back to look at her. My girl looks slightly wistful. I ask if she actually likes her. She tells me she just seems genuine, like there is something just so familiar and natural about her. Surprised, I say the same. We look at each other. My heart beats a bit faster. I'm nervous for some reason. We laugh. I ask if we should save her from her date. She agrees but she doesn't want to go over there. Oh well, I'm happy being the fall guy. I get up and walk over having no idea what I'm going to say.

As if it can't get any worse with Brad, it just does. He is now in full flight talking about his ex-girlfriend who apparently is the most beautiful and sexy woman in the world. She's a sports model. I ask if that is like a sports car and Brad just looks confused. He then goes on to explain that she models in bikinis at various sporting events. I am already well into the second bottle of wine. I may as well write myself off. I look desperately at the table where the couple sits. They seem to get the idea, to understand how awful my date is. I see the male part of the couple get up and start walking towards my table.

As I get to the table I just start talking. "Do I know you? You are just so familiar". She looks up at me, pauses for a bit and looks me in the eye. She looks over to my lady and then relief visibly floods over her. I know she knows we're together so I'm taking it as gratefulness. "Yes" she replies, "We met at a conference last year." "Really, which one was it?" I say. "The one with all those idiot salesmen," she quips back. "Oh my god!" I reply, "I remember now," lying easily. We banter a bit about how conference people tend to be idiots. I like her. She's quick and smart. She doesn't once look at her date or try to introduce me. I can feel his gaze boring into me but I don't look. If anything it makes me cockier. "Looks like my dessert's here," I say, without even looking at the table. "How would you like to come join us for coffee or a drink?" I hear a slight splutter from the guy but still don't look at him. She looks at me hard. I can't quite read her. She gets up, grabs her jacket, the bottle of wine on the table and her purse and says, "That would be nice." We turn around and walk back to my table. I can't resist looking at the guy. He's looking at her in shock. He is slack-jawed. I smile and walk on by. I can tell his ego won't like this but I know he'll leave without trouble.

This well-dressed man now stands at my table and starts a conversation. Apparently we know each other from a conference, but I know we don't. I just go along with it. I sense he is throwing me a lifeline and there is no way I am going to muck this up. We chat naturally, paying absolutely no attention to my date. He tells me his dessert has arrived. I have no idea how he knows this as he hasn't once broken my gaze. He asks if I would like to join them for dessert or a drink. I grab my jacket, bag and purse as well as the remaining wine, and head across without hesitation. The look on Brad's face is priceless.

Date Nite - First Act

We have it once a month. It's a way of staying close, staying in touch. Talking. Really talking, about nothing and everything. Date night. And I like it. Sometimes I get shitty or work is too much but when I get outside that I let myself go and relax. Just dinner tonight. But that's OK. We take our time and sometime even go out for a drink afterwards. But it's her turn so her choice. So I’m picked up after work. I always feel comfortable going out after work in my suits. My vanity gene kicks in. I love walking around in a custom made suit. It gives me confidence. Even more so with my lady. And she's good for my ego too. It had been some time finding her and even though I feel like I'm getting older she makes me feel young. Hell, she looks a lot younger than me too. Anyway, she picks me up after work. A busy day and I'm tired and half of me doesn't really want to go out but the other part is grateful I am. She looks good as usual. I love the way she dresses. Her full figure in those tight fitting dresses. None of it tacky of course. Or too revealing. Just so I can see the outline of her body and know that I get to see it later in the evening. We're walking into town. The benefits of working close to the CBD.

I’ve had a huge working week with a lot on my plate. I have finally got myself organized to go out for dinner. Actually, a friend has got me organized. I think she thinks I am hopeless. All work and no play apparently makes me dull. I feel anything but dull, but then compared to her, perhaps I appear that way. I’ve reluctantly agreed to a blind date, set up by her. I’m asking myself why I agreed to this already. Do I need this right now, after a massive week of meetings and proposals? I think no, but it’s too late to back out now. My friend assures me he is a great guy, but what I really think already is that he is a corporate twat with his head so far up his ass he can’t breathe. Not a great start to the evening is it? I haven’t even met the guy yet. I leave straight from work, after a quick spray of deodorant and perfume and a touch of lip gloss. It’s about as glamourous as I can muster, although my corporate suit transitions easily into a relaxed look, once my jacket comes off. I quickly remind myself of where I need to be: Botticelli.

We hold hands as we walk through the streets. Just comfortable in each other. Chatting about our day and randomly spotting things of interest to each other. It's fun feeling like we're dating again. Although I do have trouble trying to forget seeing her naked later. I still adore that body of hers. Maybe I will never grow tired of the thrill of being next to it. Sure, I look at other women and many I find attractive. Many I desire. But I know it's just in my mind. She knows I look and she knows I'm hers no matter what. We arrive at the restaurant. I've never been there before. Actually never heard of it. Botticelli. Must be Mediterranean. She's booked (of course) and there are a few people at the bar so we decide to have a drink first. She orders for me. It's nice sometimes not having to choose when you know someone so well. I don't have to think. Looking around the bar there are quite a few people already seated. Not many mains out but a few with starters. Most still drinking and looking at the menus. I see a woman in her suit and look at her. For some reason she catches my eye. I can't place it. I shrug it off and go back to my baby who's just finished ordering the drinks.

I arrive at the restaurant with time to spare and quickly neck two shots of tequila. If I’m going to make it through the evening I need a little propping up. I feel the warm buzz spread through me and immediately think this might not be so bad after all. I catch the eye of a guy nearby at the bar. He seems familiar although I can’t seem to pinpoint where I have actually seem him. Sharp dresser, beautifully tailored suit, and quite obviously with his girlfriend or maybe even his wife. She is ordering drinks, and just as I contemplate another, I feel a tap on the shoulder. My date has arrived.

Orbit

He sits on the same couch as her. They’ve been doing this for a while now, sitting close but not touching. She is pretending to listen when he speaks, but finds herself mesmerized by his words, drawn into the tone of his voice and the movement of his lips. When she speaks he is distracted, his eyes drawn to the swell of her breasts and the way her trousers press tightly against her crotch as she sits with one leg tucked under her. They laugh and chat and conversation jumps from topic to topic. He imagines his hand pressed against her crotch. He imagines the sensation as the warmth radiates through the fabric and onto his skin. He feels a stirring in his pants. She senses the change and knows they are close, that it is almost time, and that they have just launched themselves into this inevitable orbit around each other. Now there is no turning back. Now they can say as little or as much as they like, because there will only be one outcome. It will end in a tangle of arms and legs. Sweat and saliva and hurried, heated breath. Fingers and hands and muscles straining, chests heaving and words, passionate words. Swearing and angry looks and her hands on his hard body and his hands on her softness. Words whispered in her ear that will melt her and take her further until she feels her wetness running down between her legs. Until he finishes inside her, or in her mouth. Until they have one last kiss and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Until the next night, on the couch, where it starts all over again. Where they start their inevitable orbit once more.

You are all I need

I know you sit and think and write and want to just do everything. To be everything. To completely lose yourself in another person, even for the moment. But then on evaluation you think you should have more. Think that those films you watch are real and all sex should last for hours fucking intensely. Every orgasm the perfect one screaming. Isn't that what everyone tells you you should want. I am the best lover you have ever had. You are a god and you have to fuck all night.

Most of the time its Ok that you just want a quick fuck. We perfected it. And it is perfect. Tired after a day of work. The stress of everyday life. To forgo sex is unforgivable. But it doesn't always have to be the olympic trial. Foreplay is nice but just being naked and kissing is enough. Slow fucking on our side. Always being erect just at the feel of your body. My cock just sliding in and out as you get wetter. You rub your clit, slowly at first. We barely move. Just lie there looking at each other, kissing occasionally.

I wait till you start rubbing faster. I start fucking more (but still barely moving). I see you are coming. I let myself go. We come together more often than not. And it's fantastic and quick and perfect. Riding each other's orgasms.

Sometimes that's all we need.

Collared

I am not sure where I go when I am with him. I have some sort of temporary amnesia. I forget myself and lose myself and I am hungry and I am his his his. I don’t recall when the collar came out. I don’t recall the sensation of it being placed around my neck. I do recall a slight fumbling at the buckle and the click of the lead as it was attached to the collar (the mere thought of that click sends a zing of half pleasure to my clit). I do recall the faint scent of new leather, and the sound of the chain as it jangled loosely. I have three shifting memories. Three memories that attempt to escape me despite my best attempts at corralling them. Me on my stomach and he behind, his cock inside my wetness (oh so very wet) while he tugged at the lead which in turn tugged at the collar, causing me to raise myself up to relieve the pressure against my throat. Me ordering him between my legs and receiving that look in return, which told me that I should behave myself and ask nicely for what I wanted. And lastly, the chain taught between the swell of my breasts, pulled tight so it reached my clit (while he watched). I recall the chain and its coolness against my clit, me frantically rubbing, chasing a fast and furious orgasm. I know there was more. I know my mouth was on him and I know I wrapped my legs around him as he rode me. I know all I was wearing was a cream pair of knee high angora socks. I know we kissed and loved and became some sort of single entity. I know, I just know, that in losing myself, in giving myself to him, I have found myself so completely.

Post script: Mid sentence I just remembered his head between my legs, his mouth on my smoothness, and mouthed “Oh god” three times (as if for effect – even in real life I repeat things for effect). Yes. I remember that part now. Oh.

More than one use for a vibrator...

Away on business again. I like it and I don’t. I get to go away and see interesting places and get tied up in conference food and conversation that could have been done back at the office.  The endless lectures and presentations. Sales people and falseness abound.  I guess at least the pretend they care. Although why is it they all dress the same. The sales in the suits and the ‘business’ people in their chinos and boat shoes. Americans….

I like being in the nice big room with the big bed all to myself. Ill watch the hotel porn occasionally – of note recently Avatar the adult edition. Nothing like watching blue people fucking. I love the feel of the hotel sheets. I love the feeling of lying naked in them. The clean starched feel on my body. Arousing it.

But I was bored. I’d love to have a wank but I really missed my girlfriend. I was sick of whacking off. I mean it’s good and all but it can get less that satisfying. I wanted something different. I wanted her. The feel of her body, her tongue on mine. Even just her hand to grab my cock. The little things.

So I turn on the computer. Maybe I could just surf a bit of porn. Check email and I have my morning message from my lovely woman. An attachment. I open and just stare. I’m confused at first, not really sure what I’m seeing. Well I know what I’m seeing but she’s not the type. I check the message. A present for me. Yes it is. There are 2 pictures. I open the other one. What I see in both of them are her. Her gorgeous body. And she bought new underwear. Nice underwear, sexy underwear. And she looks stunning. A model. I love her body, naked. I’m obsessed with it. All of it. But seeing it on my pc in a random hotel room, adorned and hidden in the best possible way is like a shot to my cock. Instant feeling.  I could have come with little stimulation right then. She still turns me on so much.

But I wanted to savour this. Wanted something different. To do these pictures justice. I can’t be there and spend ages just looking and touching her. I just have to look. But in the absence of anything else I just start stroking my cock. Gentlly with my forefinger only. Up and down the underside of the shaft. Feeling its silky smoothness. Up and down. Lingering on the underside of the head. It’s intensity there making me feel fantastic. All the while staring at these amazing pictures.

I grab my cock more firmly. I’ll come too fast. I want to tease myself so I go back to stroking up and down the shaft. Slowing as I get near the underside of the tip.  A thought pops into my head. At her request I’d brought a new vibrator. Just plain run of the mill.  Maybe I could use it on my cock. I pull it out. No batteries. I check the tv remote. Thank god. Quickly inserting them I turn it on.

The vibrator is moving up my cock now. Not quite the same as my finger but I love the feeling. It needs lube. I close my eyes. Focusing on how good my cock feels. I leave the vibrator on tip of my cock. Nice. I move it back down slightly and just let it rest. Holy shit. That feels good. I push it more firmly. Not moving it. Just feeling the vibration. It’s nearly too much. Getting so aroused without actually moving anything. My cock spasms slightly. I can’t believe how good this feels. I groan slightly. Fuck. I want to come. I feel like I should but I can’t and still it keeps building up. I want to come so badly. My whole body is nothing but my cock. My balls start tingling, They’re aching.

It starts right down at the base of my cock. Down past my balls. Rising slowly up.  Its indescribable.  I groan more loudly. My cock spasms more and more. I can feel myself about to come. The tension is too much. The amazing sensation combined with nothing moving but he constant vibration on the top of my cock.  And then I’m coming. I near yell at the release. Feeling my come spill onto my stomach. Satiated as completely as any fucking I could imagine.

I love you baby. Thanks. X

We

We’re watching the end of a DVD. We’re both still in our pyjamas, he in a white singlet and striped boxers that I chose in one of those ‘shopping for boyfriend’ moments, I in a black slip with lace trim that does nothing to hide my cleavage. The kind of cleavage you could happily sleep between. The kind that had been the centre of his attention a few hours before. (He remarked how responsive my nipples were: I, close to cumming through the bites and flicks of tongue alone on budded nipples, thinking this isn’t how Good Girl’s bodies respond). I have my head on his chest, and his long arm is wrapped around me, a network of veins and pale freckled skin. I place my hand casually on his cock, or at least in the vicinity of it, knowing that that action alone will pinpoint its exact location it is within seconds. He makes a small chuckle of something, perhaps appreciation. My touch is gentle, not at all urgent. My fingers trace the outline of his cock as I marvel at how easily it transforms under my touch.

(I think of the night before, of my eyes filled with delight as the stripper dances naked for me, and he, the proud swell of his cock barely contained within his pants, his lustful eyes on me as my lustful eyes are trained on another woman, a slight blush colouring my cheek).

It makes sense to undo that little button on the front of the boxers. It makes sense to slide my fingers in and touch the smooth skin of his shaft. It makes sense to wet my fingers and return them to their treasure, letting them rub gently at whatever surface they can find. And so, I tug his cock out of its cozy home and through the hole in the front of his boxers. I tug it out as he lets out another chuckle (of approval). I slide my head down to his lap and take the head of his cock gently into my mouth. This is my thing. This is what I do best and if there is just one thing in the world I want, it’s to give the perfect blowjob. To know that at that one moment that man is completely under my control and has never ever felt anything so good. I have been told that I am exceptional. I do not doubt this, because giving head is my thing. It’s one big continuous improvement programme. I have skill with mouth and tongue and lips (and teeth) combined with hands. It’s my pièce de résistance. I go through moves in my head, what my lips will do, where my tongue will go, building neural pathways like some elite athlete training for their big moment.

And so, my mouth is on him. There is nothing rushed about this, about us. He is starting to vocalize a little, perhaps in anticipation of what is to come. I find that valley that runs just under the head of his cock and run my tongue back and forth along its groove. I flick at the head of his cock with my tongue, eliciting twitches from him and rapid intakes of breath. I slowly lower my head down over him until I can feel him butting against the back of my soft palate. I relax my throat and push down, allowing the head to slip past my epiglottis and into my throat. I hear him gasp sharply and I smile internally. I smile at what I have just done. I slowly retreat from his cock only to ride down it again, into my throat, surprised at the lack of gag reflex and thrilled at the prospect that I now have his cock all the way in, with my lips at the base of his shaft. His beautiful cock is now entirely within my mouth and I am delighted.