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I arrive at your place with such a combination of emotions. I’m jittery certainly, to see what we both have in store for each other, but also could not be more excited. I have wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you from across the room. And I was fortunate enough to have you in some capacity, twice even. It has gone from being a nearly inconceivable notion to ever have you inside me to now having such opportunities. And so I have given into the hope of wanting you in a more involving way than ever before, than I could have ever dreamed of.

I feel out of place initially in my black dress, bright red lipstick, and purple high heels. There is a small smile though which lights up your face just enough once you open the door. It appears the very moment you lay eyes on me, during which you waste no time in taking me in, visually undressing me, I am sure. You’ll be happy to find out that with a backless dress, there is no chance for me to wear a bra, especially since you have communicated to me more than once that you have no use for such a thing. I smile as well, thinking as to how you really are being so very bad right now. And I could laugh to think as to how I feel calmer but also more on edge at the same time.

I do shake my head as I’m still standing on your doorstep, and you laugh, asking me what it is. I don’t tell you what is really on my mind, at least not exactly, but rather teasingly reply that you’re not behaving very much like a gentleman, having me stand on your doorstep for so long while you stare like that. You give a shrug which seems to show no shame, though you do finally beckon me inside, insisting that you take my things from me. As your back is towards me, I do smile to myself. No matter how hard you try to be anything else, I know you will always be a gentleman deep down inside.

My smile is no longer hidden to just myself but rather becomes much brighter as you turn towards me. Even just laying eyes on you could light up my face, but this time there is a specific reason. There seems to be a sense of joy in you, not for such nearly unspeakable acts which are bound to occur later on, but because you actually want to show me around your new place.

I do oblige you. And when you go into such depth about how much work you put into this place, to make it your own, I think of interrupting to tell you that I already know. I just let you continue as I take it all in though. Reasoning with myself that I do not need to always be constantly feeding your ego, I also keep to myself how impressed I truly am. I merely reply that it all looks very nice. The look on your face is not entirely readable, and may even show a hint of disappointment, but I provide a smile that assures you I will be making up for it later if need be.

And then we go upstairs.

I feel so beside myself as you show me the bathroom, even when it’s just another room for goodness sake. I am able to keep my composure, or at least believe that I do. My heart is pounding so very fast though. And if you could hear it, which I actually question as to if you can, you would know exactly why, I’m sure. I take in the shower in a way that is not entirely different from how you took me in. My concern is not just about water pressure, although we could certainly discuss, at length, how that alone may decide whether or not it will be a good hair day. My hair is a feature which I consider to be a blessing or a curse, and when it is the former, it is what I love most about myself. I think of how I long for you to touch it, and very nearly get ahead of myself. You ask me if I am all right, and I respond that I am just fine.

You nearly bring me undone when you yourself acknowledge the shower, especially since there is such a tone to your voice! And I’m sure you think you are so clever, trying to mask it. You ask me if I like it and before I can stop myself, I answer that I do, as it is very big. And at that, neither of us can contain our laughter anymore.

Since I do not need to use the bathroom at that moment, we exit to head to the bedroom. You don’t pause to merely turn off the light though, but rather push my hair away from my neck and ears to bestow a kiss, which no matter how small, still would surely elicit a moan from me if I didn’t concentrate on keeping silent. My breathing is still heard though, I am sure. And then, you whisper to me that you assure me my preoccupation with us being in the shower will pay off at some point during this trip. If I had any doubts that you would indulge my desires in there, they are completely gone now.

And then, you slip by me to open the door to your room, acting as if such an interaction never occurred. As I become clearer headed, I realize that this is the first time in which we have actually spoken of such plans since I arrived.

Your bedroom has the same bed with the same comforter. And I certainly do look forward to having you on it once again, and more, if I may be so fortunate for there to be such instances in addition as well.

You gently put my stuff down and sit on the side of your bed, it being clear that I am to join you. I finally remark that it was very gentlemanly of you to carry around a bright pink Betsey Johnson weekender bag, even if it was only through your own condo with just the two of us. You know it was, and as you lean in for a kiss, you playfully seek a reward for such behavior, even if you would have done it otherwise. This is just an excuse to be able to kiss me then, as if you needed one.

I think of how I could laugh at you, but I can’t stand to deny myself the pleasure of your lips on mine. I’m too selfish to be coy then. I simply desire you too much and too deeply. If allowing your tongue into my mouth isn’t enough to draw out a moan from me, the next move is. And it’s even of my own doing.

The both of us are breathing so very deeply when I take your hand and use it to reach through the side of my dress. You seem amazed to discover that there is no bra, and considering there is nothing to hinder what you ultimately seek, I’m sure you are relieved as well. When you begin to ask how, I stand up, with my back towards you, so that you may see the details of the dress. I could melt just from hearing you exclaim how very sexy I look.

I thank you while turning my head sideways to flash you a smile which I hope is just as nice. The way in which my hair is nestled on my neck, with just enough of a curl, I will admit adds confidence.

I turn around fully, though make no move to sit back down. I stand over you, actually, each hand of mine on each shoulder of yours. I love this position it puts us in, literally and figuratively. You had been right to sense that I enjoy being submissive. And you may even be in for a pleasant surprise if you did not already realize that I especially do when it comes to you. But I still proudly enjoy having this power over you, as I look down at you staring up at me so expectantly. Finally, I bring my lips to yours again.

This is only meant to be a small kiss though. And perhaps it is just a tease. Quickly, before you can intensify things or make any other move, I pull away. You ask me if I am all right. Again, I am just fine. And this time, it is all calculated.

I had read you carefully enough to know that you wouldn’t become angry or harsh with me, to make demands of me or to mock me. And you don’t. The curiosity is unmistakable though. But there is no way that I could have changed my mind about wanting to be with you. After tasting you, never mind breathing in your scent—made even more perfect in that it is completely natural—I want you even more desperately.

I know now that you are willing to buy me dinner and drinks before putting it in me, to put it so bluntly if I may. And I very much intend on taking you up on such an offer. A free meal and alcohol is not the only treat about you taking me out. For I get to be seen with not only one as handsome, as finely dressed, but also one as busy as you.

You check your watch and surmise that it is late enough where we can head into the district so that I may be fed. There is a bit of grumbling in your voice though, and so I stamp my foot and point out that it is absolutely late enough. You raise your eyebrows as you ask if I’m becoming feisty. Playfully, I point out that perhaps I am, though if we wait too long before I eat, then I will really be unpleasant. I can tell you may be wondering what you have gotten yourself into, but I also point out that in that case, you will be within your rights to do something about it. I laugh to see you raising your eyebrows again, this time for another reason entirely. You shake your head as you get up, reminding me of how bad I am, although I already know it. And with a smile and a wink I point out that I’m even going to make you wait before allowing you to truly have your way with me. I warn you about complaining though, as I assure you it will hardly be a boring evening before then.

While I am normally a fast walker, I demand that you keep to a slower pace with me, especially considering how I am in these heels. It’s a short walk to the car but I still risk taking your hand in mine. After our instances together, I do dare to hope that romantic indulgences will be allowed just as sexual ones are. You make no move to remove yourself from me though, and for that I am relieved.

You detach yourself only so that you may hold the door open for me. I answer with a “thank you, sir,” which I inform you I do indeed plan on saying each time. You may feel a sense of power being referred to as such, but I do truly adore and appreciate the gesture.

As we chart our course, I chide you for not going out here on more occasions. Yes, it may be in the abhorrent district, but there could surely be worse places where one can claim to know the owner. And while it may not be our way to use that to our advantage to obtain a free meal or alcohol, it may be worthwhile in order so that we may get a seat. You suppose that you can agree.

And you certainly can when I place my hand on top of your thigh. Last time part of the shock I caused myself with such a bold move came from my ability to go about the whole thing quite casually. I can’t help but acknowledge the action this time with a smile. Fortunately, we are at a red light and you smile back. I can see that your mind though is surely at work to create all sorts of scenarios for the rest of the evening.

I let you know when the light has turned green and we are off, lest anyone beep at us or worse, suspect what is going on. I know such notions may be foolish to even just entertain, but I cannot help worrying as if other drivers will know what we are up to.

While your left hand is on the wheel, your right hand keeps my hand in place. Your hold is firm but not painful. I remark that it is a good thing you are left handed, though you point out, with an air of smugness, that it could also be just that you’re that good of a driver. Dramatically rolling my eyes in the process, I suppose that I can concede.

Previously, when our car ride was to come to an end, it meant having to leave you. But now it means that the night has only just begun.

As the valet opens the door for me, I delight in having contact with you soon again.

We come to the unspoken agreement that it will do for me to slip my arm though yours. I do feel a sense of pride, for I am yours and you are mine, if only for these few hours. And then, I will gladly give myself to you to do as you please. What you decide to do later with me is for you to decide. For now, I must concentrate on enjoying the time with you I am fortunate enough to have been granted.

The view that this place provides is too splendid for us not to be on the rooftop. And you acknowledge that you can grant me that much, especially when I remind you that the last and only other time I graced this place with my presence I was younger and in an inebriated state. Once the laughter has subsided, you ask me if I would like us to have dinner inside afterward, where we may hope to have more privacy.

I answer that I would. As my hair lightly blows in the breeze, I try to search your face for any kind of sign. I do believe that you are completely serious that such an arrangement would be best for dinner. I don't even think that you have a motivation that is in any way wicked. I have no doubt though that we will have our hands and mouths on each other if such privacy is awarded, especially if alcohol is being consistently consumed throughout the evening.

You tell me that it’s fine if I want to take in the view while you get our drinks. When you ask what I want, I hold back a little. You don't understand but I explain that my two favorite drinks many men would not take too kindly to having to order and be caught holding. You remind me that you are not like other men and then you again, with a bit of sternness in your voice, actually, ask me again what I want. I don't know if you notice your tone. Actually, I am almost certain that you don't. It reminds me just how much you have a desire to be in control, something I hope to fulfill for you.

I start off by telling you my favorite drinks, Malibu Baybreeze and Sex on the Beach. Even before I have had a drop of alcohol in me, I am already finding things amusing. When I ask you if you can understand why guys may be hesitant than and balk at me, you simply answer that that doesn't matter. You want to get me what I want. I bite back my comment that I could just have you and I would be satisfied. I consider for a moment and while I am doing so you offer a suggestion, asking which one will get me more drunk. When I act as if I am offended, you laugh and explain such a suggestion is merely so we can get our, or well your, money's worth. I suppose that it would have to be a Sex on the Beach. That is what you will be getting me then.

You don't leave right away, but rather lean your body closely up against mine as I look out. I shut my eyes against the lust that is already beginning to form. You caress my neck with both your hand and your lips as you inform me that you can't wait to see what I myself have in mind for later. I sort of murmur out a response and then, you go.

It is odd being off alone to myself for these few moments. I have been alone before, which oftentimes resulted in striking up a conversation with some man. I recall the night that we met. This is despite my efforts to push the unpleasant memories of the actions that occurred later in the evening to the back of my mind. I had left, alone, regarding you as a passing thought of a pleasant evening with hopes so strongly desired, they surely couldn't be obtainable. I willed myself not too think too much of you though, lest I get my expectations up too high. You and I may have our reasons for not liking the district, though for many different as well as similar ones.

I used to be a braver young woman. Although perhaps the better word is stupider. And naïve. I was certainly naïve. Lord knows I may still be. I'm so lost in these thoughts that I don't notice you coming up beside me.

You tell me that you have my drink, which you admit was quite the amusing ordeal to order, not only because you are not of the sex which usually orders it, but even just for the name. I don't laugh. In fact, I am even anxious. You can sense this and ask if I am all right. You tell me that if I have changed my mind, it really is fine.

I have not. Oh my dear, dear, sir, I certainly have not.

I wish to be able to shrug it off but I must make it undeniably clear that I have not changed my mind. I tell you this and accept my drink, doing so with a playful smile on my face.

We look out at the view as it becomes darker out. Neither of us says anything for a few moments as we sip our drinks and take it all in. And then, then, you reach for my hand.

You ask me if I want to talk about anything. I pull myself away from the spectacular view to look at your face. As I really look at it, I can see that you are genuinely concerned for me. It is because you are a good man.

I tell you that it has to do with what I wrote to you. You clarify that I mean what I wrote in the card I had sent to you. I feel foolish and vulnerable for a moment but you wave away there being anything to be upset about, as you found it to be a lovely touch. You just don't know if you really did that much. I answer that perhaps you did not in deed, but you did in character. And although I do not reveal to you all that I could say, of the secrets I am holding onto, I do tell you that I have been hurt and that I am afraid, because of other men.

You surprise me, and I think even yourself, as you bring me closer to you to hold. There is nothing sexual about this touch, only a sense of comfort. And yet it makes me realize just how much I do desire you. I desire you just as much for who you are on the inside as on the outside.

You tell me that you are not one of those men. I know you are not. I know because I would trust you with my life. You tell me that you will not hurt me like those men did because I deserve better. I believe you and I pray that you are right. You did teach me what I am truly deserving of, after all.

You kiss my hair, which is blowing more so in the breeze now. I turn to look at you and smile to see you looking at me in the way that you are. Oh, how I love your face. What is below us is certainly a view, but it also represents pain for me. The only pain in the view I have of you is when I have to leave you.

I am already almost done with my drink. You ask if I am ready to head inside soon. I am, and not just because I am starting to feel chilled. I had half worried that such thoughts or this topic of discussion would put one or both of us into a mood. It has not. Rather, it makes me want to do for you that much more, and it seems like you would still have me. You are a good man, but you are a man. And you have desires which I long to fulfill for you. In being able to trust you, in knowing that I am respected by you, and that my body is worshipped by you in a way few men have been able to achieve, I want you.

I whisper that I will be ready soon as I finish my drink, trying to get past the strongest part without any issue. It is not easy being a lightweight. Perhaps it gives me some liquid courage though. You lightly tug on my hand to bring me inside but I say your name to get you to wait. And then, I kiss you. I kiss you so completely and fully and passionately it is as if we are the only ones up here. I do eventually stop, wearing a smile I am sure may be somewhat wicked if your own facial reaction is any indication. You shake your head as you laugh that you had better get me inside.

I whisper to you wondering about a wait but you mention to me that we won't have to worry about that. My smile is appreciative while yours is knowing. You are using your connections to our advantage after all.

And you continue to do so. Our table is so perfect I could cry. It is surely the most private one there. I tell myself that I will not think of you taking me right here. Yet of course by doing so I have still conjured up such thoughts. And they so stubbornly refuse to leave, to the point even of when you ask what is on my mind, I actually tell you! Sometimes I truly amaze myself. Though this time I suppose there is the alcohol to credit.

Speaking of which, you ask me if I want another drink. I do. I am already feeling a buzz and can just imagine what another will do. The thought is so very thrilling especially as you assure me that you promise to not let me get too drunk tonight. Thoughts of the men who did flash before my eyes, but this time I obey myself in refusing to linger on them. And I mentally repeat that mantra that you are not one of those men.

I thank God aloud that we will be eating soon once I have ordered a hamburger, an item I will get almost wherever I am. You chuckle but also mention that you wouldn't have let me have more than one such strong drink without making sure I would be eating soon. You call me by my name as you assure me you're here to make sure I'm okay.

I take your hand in mine to hold under the table. This setting really is so wonderful. Not only are we secluded but we are nestled right next to each other. And with such privacy, I could do almost anything I wanted with your hand. I bring it to my chest, so that you may feel how fast my heart is beating. You remark how shocking, amazing it is really, and I say that I know.

And then, you slip your hand past my beating heart, to lightly brush past a nipple. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, as you murmur that you had forgotten there was no bra there. I open my eyes to smirk at you. I know there's no way you could have forgotten such a thing. Your smile shows that I am correct.

You've removed your hand from inside my dress, but I still keep it firmly clutched in mine underneath the table. Before anything more is to be said or done, we are interrupted by a woman. I assume she is your friend, the owner.

You and she are friendlier than I had expected for some reason, as you exchange warm hellos. I, being shy all of a sudden for some reason, offer her my hand. She laughs that aside though and goes to kiss my cheek before introducing herself.

I tell her my name, and how once you told me you knew the owner of such a fine place, I insisted we go here. She laughs along with me there, and makes a comment as to what a pleasant surprise it is to see you out. We have to all laugh at such a tease on your expense, especially as us girls commiserate how busy you always are. She tells me that I am very lucky to have gotten you out and I could not agree more.

Eventually she tells us to enjoy ourselves and to ask if we need anything, though otherwise we will be given our privacy. I can't help looking at you with raised eyebrows. You just shrug your shoulders with a grin on your face. I sigh, once more thinking of the idea of you taking me right back here. I may require quite a few more drinks for that to become more of a possibility though. Or maybe for you to just buy me dinner and alcohol more than once.

While we're waiting for our food our drinks are mostly finished by now and you take complete control. Though I had been holding your hand, it is you who is taking mine, in a grip that is once more just firm enough, and guide it up and down your thigh. You try to make eye contact with me, but the combined bold moves, along with the alcohol, force me to close my eyes to take it all in.

I know what you want me to do. And I want to oblige you. I also think of how firm your grip is, of how I want you to be firm with me like that in other ways, perhaps even more so. I don't allow myself to become too distracted however, lest I risk leaving you unsatisfied.

I take my hand and slowly bring it up to where you want it. You're already becoming hard. As a tease though, I just as quickly take my hand away. You make a move to put it right back, but when I resist you, you stop. I put it right back myself, still slowly, but with my grasp on you even more firm and felt.

When our food arrives I stop. You seem disappointed but also understanding. I give you a smile that tells you that you need not worry one bit. I hesitate only briefly before ordering another drink.

The playfulness has been nice but I'm thankful for the opportunity of real conversation. Yes, it was your good looks which first attracted me, but also your intellect. You fascinate me so very much yet still take an interest in me and my life. I tell you of how I have hope to do something meaningful with my life, and that going to law school will provide that. You say that you think it will, though I already have done meaningful things. I do believe you mean what you say. And then you lean in for a kiss. We are slightly interrupted by our waitress returning with my drink but she pays us no mind other than providing me with a wink. And it's small and kind enough for me to take as an encouraging move on her part.

You ask if I’ve eaten enough and I scoff and laugh that of course I have. But then I remind myself that you are being so dutifully concerned and cannot know everything there is about me, including my bizarre appetite. I touch your cheek and thank you for looking after me.

Such is a loving move, but you have other plans, especially now that I have given you an opportunity here. Since I am done eating then, you take my hand and place it where it was before, although this time there is to be no teasing about it.

With you pushing my body closer to yours, your hand through my hair, and your lips so intensely on mine, I let out a noise that is a mix between a whimper and a moan. I’m not in pain; I’m merely shocked. Although nothing about me should shock you. You were cautious with me for quite a while, and then, as I kept pushing, you pushed back, and harder than I could have ever imagined. With the sly texts which were sometimes subtle and sometimes not, and the constant request for pictures which pushed limits, I learned a little more about you. And, of course, I was reminded that it tends to be the unsuspecting ones who are so very bad.

I almost think of climbing on top of you to straddle you with my body, to stimulate you with more than just my hand. I certainly want to. But, I am sober enough to remember that we are still technically in public no matter how private the setting may be. And, they still have to clear the table and give us our check.

You seem to have the same concerns as well and enough sense to show restraint. At least, that is what I think it is. I learn very quickly that it is not that at all, but rather you just being more subtle with your approach.

The roles are reversed, but only in a sense, as you are very much still in control. The difference now is that your hand is carefully touching me down there. You ask if I am all right with this and I breathe out that I am. This is merely confirmation, as you know how badly I want this. While I have enjoyed this evening of being out with you, in many ways I also just want to leave. I am actually not so all right after all, because such a move on your part isn't enough.

As your hand continues up my thigh, there comes that sound from me again. Your fingers brush up against my underwear as you murmur in amazement about my already being wet. Of course I am. How could I not be?

I am expecting what is to come next, especially considering I told you once that this is the very thing I wanted. I’m breathing so deeply though to the point where I’m panting, as I audibly moan before you even make your move. And then, without much more warning, your finger is inside of me. What is not an expected move, however, is your thumb being on my clitoris. The combined stimulation, especially in this kind of state of inebriation and arousal, is too much. No matter that we are in public. I know you won’t dare move your hand until you are ready to do so, and so I wrap my arms around your neck and cling to you, releasing the noises I can’t hold back from making into your shoulder.

You stop. Although it may have felt like an eternity to me, in reality you stop rather quickly. You whisper to me that while it seemed I did like that now, there are certainly opportunities for more of that later. I nod in agreement. The waitress is finally coming over with our check. The amount of sobriety still left in me has too much shame to wonder as to if she was aware of what we were doing, of where your fingers were, of the sounds I was making. Regardless, she still smiles and thanks us in a professional but still kind manner.

For a time, I refuse to let go of your hand. I want to feel myself, my wetness as a testament to my arousal on you. You laugh to open the book and see the check. When I ask what is so funny, you respond that our meal was entirely free. I tell you that you shouldn't be that surprised, as you do know the owner, but you turn to me and smile as you mention that at the very least in part, it had to do with her liking me so much. You assure that you are of course still going to tip, quite well in fact, and slip your card into the book.

The next few moments come and go without much consequence. Although as aroused as I may be, sitting here, your arm around me as we both try to sober up from the alcohol, could not be a more relaxing and comforting feeling.

Fortunately the waitress returns quickly with your card and thanks us as she tells us to have a wonderful evening. I thank her in turn. She seems to have been knowing, but a kind soul all the same.

But my thoughts do not stray on our waitress for long. Not at all. Once more you have a say in where my hand goes. You are so relentless! But then, I can feel that you have grown even harder, and you smile at my initial mock annoyance turning into such a realization.

As you use your hand to rub at yourself, you also are whispering in my ear and I have to concentrate on not only breathing, but listening as well. My heart stops as you speak to me these romantic notions of making love to me. I’m sighing so very deeply. I want that. I have wanted that for so long, and it is finally going to happen again in the way I had intended it to, all after just a short ride back. But you’re not finished yet. You have only paused to move some of my hair away. You’re informing me that you can do so taking me hard, if that is how I want it. Your hands and lips are moving once more to my neck and if possible, it feels even more amazing than it did before. I can just barely breathe out that this is indeed what I want.

On that note, you decide it is time to go. You ask me if I am ready, and I think I am, though it is perhaps best if I use the bathroom first. You sigh, but it is only a pretend display of impatience, and I assure you that I can certainly be quick enough.

The bathroom, just as it was so many years ago, still has that purple lighting. I laugh to think of how I am going in a purple room with purple heels.

As I wash my hands and reapply my lipstick, I revel in the few moments I have of being alone. I had looked at my underwear, and it most certainly was wet in a way that reflected my arousal.

I am thinking of this as I head to meet you. And while you are indeed the perfect gentleman to have waited for me like that, I can see that you truly are impatient. In my drunken state I dare to hope it is because of a desire for me in addition to what it is you will be doing to me. Speaking of such a state, the alcohol certainly has affected me, and the heels don’t make it any easier. But I know you have got me, as our hold on each other with my arm slipped through yours is slightly tighter than it was before. I don’t have to worry about a thing then.

As the valet brings the car around, you ask me if I am all right. I respond that I am, though admit that I am a little drunk. You laugh that you can tell, but remark that I am a fun and amusing drunk. Well, at least we can both see and appreciate that. And there’s certainly going to be more for you to appreciate soon enough...

You assure me that you’re just fine yourself. And I know. I smile as I mention that I trust you completely. My hand doesn't merely stay clasped in yours for long though. I exclaim, pretending to be indignant, that perhaps I should have never felt you up under the table all those months ago. You drop my hand, asking if I really meant such a thing. I laugh that I of course did not and tell you to put my hand right back then. You do so, shaking your head. I point out that you shouldn't be shaking your head when it’s exactly as you want.

I can tell your tone is serious as you ask to make sure I’m okay with this. I am. Absolutely. If there was ever any hesitation on my part, it disappeared in January. You have me wait for a moment as you adjust in your seat and tighten your grip on the wheel. You tell me to go for it then. At first I’m confused as to what you actually want me to do here, but your answer is a relief to me. I can do whatever it is that I want to do.

Shrugging then, figuring there is no harm when there are no pressures or expectations, I don’t just press my hand right up against you, but really rub at you this time. And it’s much easier to do so now that you had unzipped your pants for me, since in here you can. Other than the heavy breathing coming from the both of us, the ride back to your place is silent. I am not disappointed in myself, as I don’t think either of us wanted you to finish in your car. And you still are so very hard.

You curse yourself with nervous laughter as you try to get your keys out fast enough so that we may get inside. I don’t think either of us can bear to wait very long. I am sure that my hand on your shoulder and my lips all over your neck is indication enough to show my impatience.

As you’re fumbling with your keys in one hand, you pick my head up from your neck and bring your lips fiercely to mine. It’s like something out of a movie as we almost fall over once you've pushed the door open.

You immediately cut my laughter at such an occurrence short though as you have my back up against the wall, your lips once again hungrily on mine. Even as I’m kissing you back, I’m sure my moaning is still audible. How am I supposed to keep silent as you slip one hand through the side of my dress and the other up it? My underwear is completely pushed aside this time as you insert not just one, but two fingers inside of me from the start. And quickly enough your thumb finds its way to my clitoris, just like before, though there is nothing requiring you to show even a basic amount of restraint this time. When you move your lips up against my ear and down my neck and collar bone, there’s not even your mouth to muffle my moaning, which has, at this point, become quite loud. There’s no reason for me to hold back. You've earned getting to see—well, hear—me in this state. You bring your lips back to my ear, to whisper how hot it is that I’m making so much noise. Since I feel I came sufficiently enough down here, I tell you that we should go upstairs now. I want you to bring me there yourself though.

When you ask me what I mean I ask if you’re ready. With hesitation, but also immense curiosity, you say that you are. And then I jump up and wrap my arms and legs around you. I do so with me a bit of a yell, as it’s not the easiest thing to do in heels.

I worry that I may have caught you off guard but you seem to be fine. I want to make absolutely sure though and you laugh at me that you are, especially since it still feels as if I weigh “like, 90 pounds.” I thank you, though point out that you’re off by at least ten. You tell me to just shut up about that. I don’t really have much of a choice, especially considering your lips are on mine again. I’m certainly not arguing though.

Once we get to your room I've finally conceded that it’s time for me to go back to my normal height and unzip my heels. I notice you looking me up and down, as if you’re seeing me for the first time today. I laugh as you explain you just can’t believe how hot I look, and that I especially did when you were fingering me downstairs. I bite my lower lip as I stand up a little taller and reach my arms up a little higher now before pointing out that it was because of the good job you did.

As you are taking off your tie, though you know to leave the rest to me, I remark how much I like your shirt. And I do. I’m not just saying that, though I may say that about all that you wear. I delight in getting to hear you explain what makes this particular shirt so special. And you don’t disappoint, especially since I’m tipsy enough to be so amused.

Once I've heard all about this shirt I take the privilege of removing it very seriously. Though as I’m unbuttoning it, I decide to leave it on you. The pants, however, must go soon for what I have in mind.

I apologize in advance for not giving you the opportunity to do this yourself, and then with an undone zipper as well as a couple of buttons, I've pulled my dress over my head as well as step out of my underwear. I then lay them down on your floor so that I may have something for my knees. It’s a shame you had to have all your carpet ripped out, but well this will do then. And it’s a small price to pay for satisfying you in the manner that I want to now.

I know that you want to be inside of me in any and every way that you can. When it comes to my mouth, I’m going to take a little control I've decided. Besides, I’m sure you don’t mind the scene in front of you, of me on my knees, having just undone your belt and now going for your pants and boxers all at once. You help me to pull them down and then kick yourself out of them. I’m almost shocked that there’s not a more orderly way to this when it comes to such nice clothes that you have, but well, you do want to be in my mouth again, and have wanted it for some time, as you yourself are mentioning to me.

You cut yourself off with a gasp in reaction to my mouth around you. This time is much different from the last. There’s just the right amount of alcohol in my system to make me bold and courageous. You’re as thick as you were the last time, but I knew to expect that and this angle is much better for me.

I say that because it’s much easier for me to take all of you in, so that I can feel you hitting the back of my throat even, as I flick my tongue all up and down your shaft, spending an extra amount of time and careful attention to your perfectly cut tip. And of course, I haven’t forgotten how you like it for me to move my head up and down, which I do as my tongue does.

So while you may not be in control here, to touch and finger me as you please, I know you have nothing to complain about. I think you know this as well. And while you may not be able to feel me where you desire me most right now, it does mean that you can run your fingers through my hair. I think of how nice your touch is as I hear you breathing and sighing encouragingly above me. All of this goes on while I myself moan and grip your thighs.

At some point you tell me to stop. I immediately oblige and look up at you, wiping my mouth as my inquisitive eyes wonder what is next. You help me to my feet and then playfully but still gently lift me and toss me onto the bed. You at least still listen to me though, as I insist that you remove that shirt and the one underneath it.

As you hover on top of me, I tell you that I don’t want to waste any time and thus lose the opportunity of you being hard still. I want you inside of me then, right now. And I know you know how I mean. I expect you to enter from this position and so arch my body to offer my lips and other parts to you, but you stop, having another idea in mind when it comes to the position you’d like to take me.

You tell me that you remember my mentioning how I wanted to be on top. It’s nice to know that I’m still allowed some control in all of this. Your smile is not entirely readable, though it is still handsome, and thus is nothing to complain about. And so you have me move over so that you can lean against the pillows as you beckon for me to climb onto you. I’m already doing so though.

In a way your arms may be desperate to greet me, but I want to give you what you want, especially when it is what I not only want, but crave so deeply. I sit up to straddle your lap and grind up against you to ensure you’re still hard. Luckily, you are. You laugh for me not to worry, though I cannot help but tease you about your track record every chance I can get.

There is indeed a bit of adjusting, but I have faith in this instance, and our efforts pay off. You’re inside of me in no time, remarking how tight but also wet I am at the same time. I lean over you and whisper that I know as I begin to grind more earnestly on top of you.

Up until now, your fingers have been on my back, leaving faint marks I’m sure. You've moved them to my breasts though and I shudder while managing to keep my pace. Your touch is perfect. It’s not too hard and rough as others have been, but it still demands to be felt. This is especially the case as you pinch each nipple between your thumb and index finger, softly at first, but doing so a little more firmly once you've gauged how much I’m enjoying it.

I had been concentrating on my movements up until this point. I don’t know why I’m still nervous in some ways about being with you, especially when anything new comes up. I suppose it’s because your sense of perfection, at least to me, while still being human just make me feel so… vulnerable. But I feel as if I can finally let go and offer my mouth to you. You eagerly accept. Even better is that your hands still continue to massage my breasts, all the while occasionally tweaking my nipples.

And while I was moaning softly and consistently before, this sense of discarding any awkwardness or uncertainty awakens something within me. I don’t have to hold back. I shouldn't. The combined stimulation enables me to achieve another orgasm, one almost just as intense as the one from downstairs.

I know that you will always enjoy hearing my moans, especially when I call out your name while doing so. But I know that there is something else you want to hear from me as well. And when I say your name again, it’s in a way that demands an answer from you. When you respond that you are listening, I tell you how deep and hard you feel inside me when I’m so wet and tight like this, just as I crave to be for you. You murmur that you've craved it as well, but certainly don’t stop me from continuing.

When you ask me what's next, I tell you to move, to lie all the way down. I even push you there myself a bit. I want to give you the view that I had promised as I continue to move on top of you. I enjoy taking your hand in mine as you watch me do so. I know that I cannot deny you (or myself) though the perfect opportunity at not only a view but to feel and touch me. And you certainly do... You have one hand on one breast and another firmly on my ass. Once I tightly lock my thighs, both of us are moaning into our kiss.

And then you bring both of your hands to my breasts to sweep your fingers back and forth across my nipples. You're still kissing me and then, I feel something from within me. It's just as I'm achieving another orgasm so I don't dare have you stop. There's a flow of fluid though and it's not from you. It's from me. It takes me a moment to realize what it is in this hazed, sexual daze, with an orgasm that won't seem to be calming down any time soon. You stop on your own asking me if I'm okay. I am, though my most pressing issue is to ask if you feel that. You do, though you're quick to point out it's not from you. I point out that I know. I felt it. In fact, I'm still feeling it in some ways.

You pull out and inform me that there is a small puddle of fluid there. I can't help but feel so very embarrassed. This should be something exciting, astounding even with the rarity of which it occurs. But regardless of that, I've gone and made a mess on your sheets.

You ask me if I have just done what you think I've done and I answer that I have. You laugh that I've gone and squirted on your bed now.

I bring my hands to my face, apologizing. But you immediately remove them, wondering what on earth I have to be sorry for. When I answer it was for making a mess, as you just implied yourself, you laugh again that you said that because you were so impressed. You whisper in my ear then how incredibly hot it was to be able to do that, and, how it makes you want to do things to me that much more intensely.

I suppose that I cannot argue with this, especially when my own desire is creeping back up to push aside any feelings of embarrassment.

When I ask how you want me then and you respond that you think I know, I start to get up to put myself in the position for you to do me from behind, where we'll eventually move on to something else…

You adjust yourself so that I can get there. I can hear you breathing behind me just in anticipation. And I can imagine the look of lust which must be on your face as well then.

I don't have to try at anything here and you still find it so hot. All I do is get on my hands and knees, with my back arched in such a way that my ass is out just the right amount. My breasts are also the perfect size to be seen hanging from me, with my nipples poking out from them noticeably with how erect and hard they are. It truly doesn't require much work or effort from me. And it causes me to think then that maybe you find me just as hot as the position you're so eagerly awaiting.

I feel you approach me soon enough. Once I feel your tip inside me, I settle myself back to thrust onto you. You sigh. Just like before with this position, there isn't so much an issue of you entering me. But this time there is no awkwardness on my part. I know that you like this now, and I'm all too happy and willing to do the work here if it pleases you. Besides, I will have time to relax in just a few moments I know. Or at least I had better relax. It working out depends on me being able to do so.

The smooth and ease of it all gives me that added confidence to make me think I can do what is to come next. Each time I push myself back onto you, I can feel your tight grip on my hips, and hear your continued sighs of pleasure. Once your hands go for my breasts, I can feel myself achieving yet another orgasm from this evening. My body is shuttering and I almost don't make it back to thrusting onto you, though you certainly have a response to that. Your hands return to my hips as you yourself are thrusting, taking over for me. This is what it feels like when you're in control then. I can hear that your breathing is quickening as is your pace and I think as to how it's best if you don't finish just yet. This is for your own sake. When I laughingly point this out, you sense that I am indeed mocking you somewhat and slap my ass in response. I'm not in pain, but a little surprised as well as turned on. I sigh that I don't want you to be when you say that you're sorry.

My body tenses up initially once I feel you place a finger into my other hole. You stop and tell me you can wait until I'm ready, but I tell you to keep going. I'm expecting it now. Your thrusts are becoming more irregular now as you occasionally pull out so as to apply my own wetness to your fingertips. Admittedly, this does help. I have been, and still am, incredibly turned on at the thought of you wanting my body, even and especially when it comes to this.

You murmur how tight I am, clarifying that you are referring to both places. I know. It causes you to be in great anticipation and excitement while it is a cause of apprehension and worry for me. But I trust you. I keep reminding myself of that because it's true. I really do. I know that I feel such deep things for you and that at the least you respect me and my body.

You confirm that I am ready to try this, which I am since I figure we may as well not put this off any longer. I give you permission to get the KY for my Betsey bag, which is in the inside zippered pocket. Luckily you have no trouble finding it and return to the bed quickly.

I sense you're applying it to yourself and then you ask if you should put some on me as well. You're so considerate like that and I do appreciate it. Once all preparations of sorts have been made, you leave no surprises as you tell me to just try and relax, as you're going to ease yourself into me now. You know to go as slow as is needed and you're going to try your very best not to hurt me. I tell you to go for it, trying to play it off rather casually even if you already know how uneasy I am.

I feel your tip and certainly there is pressure. I can definitely feel it when you’re pushing all the way in and I grit my teeth as you do so. And then, you're in. You're not exactly pleasuring me but you’re not hurting me either. I had been hoping since when I first agreed to this that it wouldn't have to turn into the negative experience I knew was possible. And now I'm beginning to think such a hope may come true.

As you're slowly and deliberately thrusting inside of me, you remark how good it feels with how so very tight I am. But then you ask how I'm doing. I decide to tell the truth and respond that I'm okay. You ask me more about it being "just okay." I don't know how to answer you. I want to do whatever I can for you but this requires me doing something for myself here I don't know if I can do. You tell me that you'd like to do something about that.

Before I can even ask what, I feel your fingers brushing up on my clitoris, just as deliberately and calculatedly. As I let you know with a breathy tone that it's definitely more than okay now, you comment how glad you are then. You want this to be for both of us, as much as possible. I feel you pick up the pace inside of me and soon after I've reached an orgasm, you have as well.

I remind you that you can finish inside of me this way. You thank me for the reminder and I feel you stop as you lean into me a little bit more, the both of us breathing quite heavily.

You get up once you're done, putting on your plaid pajama pants and Ugg slippers and letting me know you're going to the bathroom. I smile at you, letting you know that that's all just fine. Just as you're out the door you thank me. I'm relieved you likely can't see how sad it actually is in a way, my smile. I had you. That was enough.

During the few minutes you're gone, I lay back against the pillows, marveling over what has just happened between the two of us. I will not allow myself to feel any bit sad about it just because it's done. Though truth be told I do wonder every time as to if it will be the last. I notice that the KY bottle is on your night table, partially open. I immediately close it all the way and get up to put it back in the Betsey bag.

As I am doing so, you come back in. You have your glasses on now, so I know that you can see my naked body, especially as you continue to gaze longingly at it. I now and again still almost don't know what someone like you sees in me, but it is not the time for such discussions.

I grab a shirt and my toothbrush and let you know that I myself am going to the bathroom. I kiss you goodnight. Although I don't say this to you, I have every intention of spending the night of your couch, this way you may actually get some sleep tonight. I won't have you sacrificing your rest on my account when this is your own home. It's silly really and there is no need for arguments which I do have a feeling would follow should I actually tell you.

As I go to the bathroom I refuse to think. But once I've washed my hands and am adding on the toothpaste to brush my teeth, I am forced to look at myself in the mirror. What a sight I must be. My hair is slightly disheveled and much of my make-up has worn off, though it hasn't entirely done so.

This is so silly considering the experience we just had and yet I cannot help but cry. As I watch my silent tears fall from my eyes which have a smudge of makeup left and are now getting red, I wonder what the reasoning could be. I do not even know if it is out of disappointment or happiness or what. Perhaps it is everything in between.

I silently lay my toothbrush out for the morning and turn off the light, tip toeing out of the bathroom, praying I am not heard on my way downstairs. The door to your room is open and I can see the glow of the television. I force myself not to laugh at you men and your big TV sets.

The couch is not only in good taste but is comfortable. I should be fine here. I realize suddenly how tired I am, especially from the alcohol. Sighing in brief recollection over the evening's events, I drift off to sleep.

I wake up sometime later as I can feel a presence. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed with my phone charging up in your room. That presence is you. You whisper out my name but I pretend that I am still asleep. I am curious to see what you will do.

I then sense you coming over to me on the couch. Again, I make no move to show I am awake. You get down on such a level where you can move aside some hair and kiss my forehead. Such a feeling is pleasant enough where I may be actually able to return to such a blissful sleep now while still here on your couch. You whisper my name again and after I remain so stubborn still, you murmur to yourself what a heavy sleeper I am. I almost laugh to tell you that you have no idea, but force myself not to.

You are muttering to yourself what to do and I figure you may be returning upstairs now that you know where I am. But then you pick me up as if it were nothing and proceed to take me upstairs.

At that point I decide it is time to open my eyes perhaps. I smile at you but you just shake your head. Fortunately a smile soon appears on your face too, as you point out you can't believe I tried to get away with such a thing. When I giggle to ask if it's going to cost me, you respond that maybe in the morning. For now though, you are taking me to sleep in a bed, which is where it is only right for me to be. I smile warmly, thinking as to how that bed is your bed and as to how truly right it does feel to be there.

You toss me onto the bed, though you are again gentle while still being playful. Although you are half asleep and your tousled hair and groggy sounding voice show that, you reach for my shirt telling me that I won't be needing it anymore. I laugh at what seems to be a perpetual state of horniness for you, or at least preoccupation with my naked body, but make no move to stop you. You, in turn, concede that perhaps I do have a point.

You lay awake for a little while as you lazily brush your hands across my breasts, occasionally pausing to kiss my nipples gently but with just enough pressure. I feel bad which I suppose becomes immediately apparent, with you asking me what is wrong. I respond that I wanted you to get some sleep and now it seems as if you have not.

Your touches cease and you seem more serious. You admit that you had been waiting for me to come out of the bathroom and fell asleep watching TV. In the middle of the night you woke up, which is typical for you even when you are alone, usually once or twice. It is for me as well, though I don't interrupt you to point this out. You wondered how you could be sleeping so normally when someone else was in bed with you and then discovered I wasn't there when you reached out for me.

I apologize for causing you to get up and look for me and explain my reasoning. You give me a smirk and inform me that while I was being considerate, it was a bit much, to the point of being foolish. You may have been a little too much on a guilt trip by mentioning that you wouldn't be able to sleep, but already made it clear that I would be staying with you and sleeping in your bed. You look down as you feel my breast on your own chest and repeat that it is only right.

I think maybe now you will go back to sleep but you insist that you want to know how it was. I remark that it was very good, laughingly pointing out that there was an earlier incident that requires you to wash your sheets earlier than you may have intended. You acknowledge that that is true as well as mention you're glad I can stop seeing it in such a negative light. You repeat your comment from before how hot it was for you that you were able to get me there. Upon telling you that it's only happened twice before, with the same guy, you reveal that I'm the first girl you've done this for. I am amazed at this accomplishment.

Your tone changes, though only slightly, when you ask how the anal specifically was. I want to know how it was for you, but you challenge me that that does not answer your question. I don't know how to respond, other than that it wasn't bad and could have certainly been worse. You respond that that wasn't so hard for me to admit and will grant me an answer to my question then, in that it was just as amazing as you hoped it would be. You pull me closer to you to kiss me and thank me again for fulfilling your fantasy by letting you try. I am only happy to do so, especially after seeing how much you liked it.

I sense that we will be going back to bed now. I ask if you want me to move over, if giving you some room will help you to sleep better. You admit it won't and say we might as well continue to be all over each other then. I smile that I'd like that.

Some minutes have passed now. You have taken off your glasses and your voice reflects that you are barely awake. You do murmur in a barely audible tone though that it just means you'll have to try to be better for next time.

I'm that much more awake now. You've just mentioned a next time. There may be hope then that what happened hours ago was not the last time. I have to ask if you're serious and you say that you are, not knowing why you wouldn't be. I don't make it a big deal then and let you drift off into sleep, finally.

There may still be some things I cannot communicate to you, including my worry and concern over how long this will go on before you tire of me for some reason or another. And I certainly can't tell you my true feelings for you, maybe not ever. But I still feel them for you and I will be grateful for whatever time I do have with you. I try to focus on appreciating the wonderful experiences I have with you, for they are some truly wonderful ones indeed, as I myself fall asleep.