First time sub domination by my date
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A First Date free porn video
A First Date
By Jeanne Darc
(Note: this story is a sequel to The Wedding Party. Please read that
story first.)
I was waiting in the lobby of my apartment the next day when Natasha
arrived to pick me up for our date. I appreciated that she was on time;
tardiness is a pet peeve of mine. She was driving a red Alpha Romeo. The
engine growled like a lion preparing to spring. Was I the prey? She
looked at me but didn't say anything. Just offered me the tiniest of
smiles while she opened the door for me to get in.
"You didn't wear the clothes I sent you," she said once I'd locked the
seat belt across my abdomen. I could feel the car's engine rumbling deep
in my hips as she pulled out into traffic.
"I hope you're not disappointed. I..I was uncomfortable with it. I'm not
sure I could be seen like that in public. I tried to pick out a jacket
and tie that were upscale. You're not angry, are you?"
"Never," she said. "I only want you to be happy."
"They were very nice clothes. I appreciate the thought."
She turned on the radio. It was a Brahms violin concerto - I couldn't
remember which one. We lapsed into the space that the music carved out
for us. Finally, I ventured to speak up. "Tell me about this museum tour.
How were you able to arrange it?"
"I'm a member of the board. It was my recommendation that brought Paul
Riggs in. You'll appreciate his knowledge. The two of us have been
quietly building a wonderful collection of modern art. The museum is
already causing a stir in the art world."
We threaded through the Sunday morning traffic like a seamstress on
speed. "I kept the earrings in," I said.
"I noticed."
I felt like I was floundering. "The roses were a surprise. All thirty-
six."
"Glad you liked them."
We arrived at the museum parking lot and Natasha pulled into a reserved
space. I waited until she opened my door and then took her hand. "I feel
bad about --"
She put both hands on my shoulders. "Sean, stop fretting. It's okay. I'm
happy to be with you however you're dressed." She straightened my tie,
then pulled me in close and gave me a kiss that sent sparks shooting down
to my toes. "If you need more persuading, I'll have sex with you right
here on the hood of the car. I'd like to. We'd probably get arrested,
though."
I laughed. "Indecent exposure?"
"Nope. The prohibition against kindling a blaze in a public space," she
replied.
That brought a smile to my face. She'd put me completely at ease.
"Uh, you realize you didn't take off your nail polish, right?" she said
as we walked towards the museum entrance.
I stared at my hands, horrified. She was right. All the angst over what
to wear had blinded me. Had I scrubbed off all the make up? Yes, I
remembered doing that. I thrust my hands deep into my pants pockets.
"That'll work," she said as we climbed the granite steps. "Headline -
'Man on Date with Most Beautiful Woman in World Keeps Hands Busy in
Pockets.' Nothing suggestive or suspicious in that."
I blushed as she guided me thought a large brass door.
A tall, heavy-set man with a thick red beard and a smile like a boomerang
was waiting in the lobby. He and Natasha shook hands. "And who's this?"
he said, thrusting a paw in my direction.
"This is Sean," Natasha said, introducing me. "He's my date. He wants to
learn about modern art. Sean, this is Paul Riggs. It's a name that means
something big in the art world."
Sheepishly I took his hand. How could he not see the bright red nail
polish? "Glad to meet you, Mr. Riggs," I said.
"Call me Paul. You must be someone special. This is the first time
Natasha has brought a friend to the museum. If you'll follow me?"
We headed towards the west wing. I'd been to the museum many times, but
rarely to the gallery where they displayed their abstract paintings. "In
here," Paul said, indicating a brightly lit space There was a small
plaque on the wall next to the entrance that said 'THE NATASHA EVANS
ROOM.'
I put my arm around Natasha and whispered "You have your own room."
"I guess they like me," she said.
"I've got my own room, too."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Don't believe me? Ask my mom. She'll give you a tour. 'This is little
Seany's room.'"
Paul waited patiently for us to finish. He began with a question. "What
do you want to learn about abstract art?"
I shrugged, looking around at all the canvases. "I'd like to know what it
means. It's nothing but a bunch of lines and shapes and colors. How do
you decode it?"
"The secret to abstract art is to understand that it's not trying to show
you reality. If you want that, go into the European gallery next door.
There what you see is what you get. Here what you get are ideas. The
painter wants to strip away reality and talk in the language of color,
shapes, and symbols. If he wants to express fear, he's not going to show
you a man holding onto the edge of a cliff, his eyes filled with terror.
He's going to try to express the concept of fear by abstraction."
Paul continued to expand upon this idea, then led me to a painting. By a
process of questions and answers, we explored what the painting meant.
Natasha wandered away, contemplating the artwork on her own. Sometimes I
could she was transfixed, standing in front of a painting, a beatific
smile on her lips. She was truly beautiful, dressed in her stylish boy-
girl suit. When I stared too long, I'd start to have the kind of thoughts
that didn't make for maintaining a good focus on my art lesson.
The hour passed quickly. I won't say I got it, but I began to see some
glimmer of the meaning behind the confusion of shapes and colors. Paul
made a gracious goodbye and left us in Natasha's room. A visitor wandered
in and began a circuit of the walls. The museum must be open to the
public now.
"Did you see anything you liked?" she asked.
"The Basquiat. I could really see the anger and the pride. It was very
autobiographical. Not as abstract, though."
"I like that one, too. More importantly, did you learn something?"
I thought for a moment. "Yes, though maybe not what you'd expect. I
learned that coding software is a lot like painting abstract art. Both
deal in pure ideas through the manipulation of abstraction and symbolic
language." I groaned inwardly. It sounded so nerdy.
She stared at me, her mouth hanging open, then grabbed my hand. "Come
with me, missy."
She led me to the side hall where the bathrooms were. "Men's or women's?"
"What do you mean?" I said.
"Oh, to be that innocent." She pulled me in tight and began kissing me
the way a starving wolf attacks a haunch of beef. I was panting when she
released me. "Men's room," she said. "Less men come to museums."
She guided me into the interior. It was from the turn of the century when
they used marble in such places. Still kissing me, she pushed me against
the wall and began unbuckling my pants.
"We're going to have sex?"
"What do you expect, talking dirty to me like that."
"I..I...dirty?
"Software and abstract art. You can't believe how sexy 'smart' is. I'm on
a date with a man that has a brain, who can express original thoughts. I
want to ride you until you can't think straight."
My pants dropped to the floor and she froze. "You're wearing the panties
I sent you."
I could feel the heat in my cheeks. "I didn't want you to think that I
didn't care for your gift. I can't help it if I'm not as bold as you are.
I'm trying. You're worth it."
She bit her lip, then began taking off her pants. "I could practically
orgasm just standing here. You're making love to me with words."
I slid my panties down and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my
waist and let me enter her. She gave a little gasp and began to lever
herself up and down on my shaft. I began to thrust with my hips. She was
right: she was primed, already many steps down the path to pleasure. This
time she was the one who lasted just a minute before digging her nails
into my back and letting out a strangled cry. She arched her back and
rocked several times, forcefully pulling me deeper into her. Then she
wilted, the air escaping out of her lungs in a long exhalation.
"Fucking hell," she said hoarsely. "You're dangerous."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Do you think I make a habit of having sex in public restrooms?
This is all your fault, and don't pretend it's otherwise."
At that point we heard a voice talking to somebody outside the bathroom
door. We looked at each other and scrambled into our clothes. We exited
as if nothing unusual had happened. A woman and a small boy were standing
next to the water fountain. She looked at us both with a wry smile on her
face, noticed my nail polish, and rolled her eyes.
When we got into the parking lot, we both burst out laughing. "She wasn't
judging us. She was jealous," Natasha said. It was a quick five-minute
ride to the restaurant. Natasha held onto my hand the entire way.
The ma?tre-de greeted us warmly. "Welcome back, Miss Natasha. We're
always glad to see you again." He led us to a table in the back of the
restaurant, screened off from the hustle and bustle. The place was
packed. I'd never eaten here, but it was on all the local best restaurant
lists. A waiter brought a bottle of wine, showed Natasha the label, and
poured a little for her. She swirled it around the inside of the glass,
inhaled the bouquet, then took a small sip. She nodded and the waiter
filled first my glass, then hers.
"I've only ever seen people do that on TV," I said. I sipped the wine.
"This is good."
"I hope you don't mind that I picked out a bottle for us," she said.
"I'm sure your experience with this sort of thing exceeds mine."
"I ordered the meal as well. I wanted you to try something special and it
takes a few hours to prepare, so I had to order it when I was making
reservations."
"They'll do that? Cook a meal to order?" I said.
"The chef owes me a few favors." She hid a small smile behind a sip from
her glass.
"I'm happy to follow your lead. Any hints as to what we'll be eating?'
She teased me with misdirection until I was convinced we were having
hamburgers on croissants. "It's the croissants that take so long," she
said.
I began to play footsy with her under the table. She sighed contentedly.
"I don't know about you, but this is turning out to be a near perfect
date. First sex, then good food, then sex again."
"I'll keep my mouth shut," I promised. "I don't want to provoke any more
outbursts like the last one."
"Heart breaker," she pouted.
The meal turned out to be rustic leg of lamb. It was delicious. I'd not
eaten much lamb; we were a pot roast and potatoes family when I grew up.
Dessert was cr?me Brule. It might have been the best meal I'd ever eaten
in my life. The company matched the meal. I'd catch myself staring at
Natasha, not thinking, not wanting to think. Just enjoying. She must have
noticed, but didn't say anything.
After she drove me back to my apartment, she turned off the engine and
put a hand on my knee. "Can I come in?" she said.
"I was hoping you would," I told her.
I waited while she got the passenger door for me and I led her inside and
up the stairs to my second-floor apartment.
"Don't be expecting much. It's just one bedroom, a small kitchen, a
family room, and an alcove for my office."
"No bathroom?" she said.
"I don't want to confirm that. You have a penchant for doing strange
things in bathrooms."
"Only with strangers," she said, giggling.
She looked around curiously. "This is very neat. You keep things clean.
By the way, I noticed that you straightened up around my place before you
left yesterday. That was very sweet of you. I take it you don't have a
problem with that sort of thing?" She approached one of makeshift vases
that was holding some of the roses she'd sent me and began to rearrange
them.
I answered while I went into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of
iced tea. "I was raised to do my share of the chores. And I live alone,
so I do it all, now. It's a habit I guess."
"What's with the dish of lollipops?" She indicated the plate on my
battered coffee table, a piece of furniture from my college days that was
more a memory than an item of d?cor.
"I'm sort of addicted," I said. "It's a software developer thing. You put
some candy on your desk and other developers will stop by to take one and
to chat. We're not known as a very people-oriented occupation. Sometimes
it's the only way you can get accurate status or a head's up on changes
they're making to their functionality. I'm guilty of feeding at my own
trough." I picked one up, peeled the cellophane off it, and placed it in
my mouth.
She sipped her tea. I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Ummm, do you
want me to put on the things you bought for me?"
"I'd love that," she said. "But it has to be your choice. If you don't
want to, that's fine with me. You always have the right to say no, and
I'll respect that."
I went in the bedroom and returned a few minutes later wearing the
sundress, sandals, straw hat, and sunglasses.
We both laughed at the absurdity of a hat and sunglasses indoors. "The
bra didn't have room for me to put any forms in the cups," I said. I
could feel the cool satin hugging my chest.
"I wanted it to be right. Wear only things that fit - that's the first
rule of high fashion. It looks great on you. And that lollipop hanging
out of your mouth personalizes it. It's quite the accessory."
I flared out the sundress. "This is nice. I don't usually wear yellow. I
noticed the pattern incorporates roses." I paused for a beat. "Thirty-six
roses. I counted. Seems to me that that number is familiar."
"Probably a coincidence."
"I'm beginning to think that you and coincidence are not acquainted. One
thing that's been bugging me. Did you arrange to be the only one to catch
the garter at Jaqueline's wedding?"
"Of course," she said.
"I don't know if that's romantic."
"I do. Do you think I'm going to leave my fate in the hands of a bunch of
deities playing dice? Getting the thing you want - that's the most
romantic thing in the world. I wanted you."
I went to where she was seated on the couch and straddled her. I began
kissing her, gently, at the top of her forehead. Slowly I moved lower,
removing items of clothing as they interfered. She let me have my way,
enjoying how I caressed her skin, nibbled at her breasts. When I had her
nude, I got on the floor between her legs and spread them apart.
"What about you?" she said. "I vaguely remember some unfinished business
from a public restroom."
"Somebody once told me that the gentleman never cums before the lady.
It's advice I'm taking to heart. There'll be time enough for me."
"My mother warned me about boys like you," she said.
"What'd she say?"
She placed her hands on the side of my face and guided me between her
thighs. "She said if you find one, never let him go."
An hour later we lay in each other's arms in a heap of blankets and
pillows. I rested my head on her shoulder while she traced the muscles of
my body with a fingernail. I could tell from the way she kept sighing
that she'd have to leave soon.
"You know I don't want you to go," I said, preempting her. "I like to be
with you. I know it's not a mansion but you could stay the night."
"Can't, babe," she said, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. "I'm leaving
early in the morning for a business trip. There are a bunch of things I
have to prep."
"When will you be back?" It sounded needy, so I swallowed the rest of
things I was going to say.
"Friday. There's a party that evening. Would you like to come with me?
The bar is free and there'll be dancing. You'll meet some interesting
people."
I snuggled closer to her. "I'd love to," I said.
"I'll call you with the details."
I cupped one of here perfect breasts. "Call me every night. If you don't,
I'll call you."
She disentangled herself from my legs and began dressing. I lay on my
stomach watching her.
She reached down and smacked my bottom. "You're an odd sort of dirty old
man, watching a girl getting dressed." She tossed the slinky bra I'd been
wearing onto the floor next to me. "Walk me to the car?"
I tensed. I suppose I could put on the lingerie and slip into jeans and a
sweatshirt. I'd just hooked the bra closed and climbed into the matching
panties when she handed me the sundress. I must have looked like a deer
in headlights because she took it back from me.
"Sorry, I'm pushing," she said. "We're just starting to know each other.
We haven't even gotten to the pet name stage."
A million thoughts cascaded across the synapses in my brain. I was
terrified. She'd appreciate it, but damn it, it was scary. What if one of
my neighbors saw me? Where exactly was all this leading? God, she was
beautiful. I could feel something cosmic pulling me into her orbit. Love
gravity? That sounded stupid. I stepped into the sundress and pulled the
straps onto my shoulders. I put on the rest of the things. I caught her
staring at me. "Who's the dirty old man now?" I said. "Watching a guy
getting dressed."
She took me by the hand and led me to her car. We kissed, the kind with a
capital K and a hundred S's at the end. The whole world could have been
watching and I wouldn't have noticed.
"I know what you're thinking," I said, holding both her hands. "For god's
sake, don't send roses to my workplace. Or to my apartment. I don't have
any place left to put them."
She got into the car and rolled down her window. "You have my word. No
roses." She brandished the kind of smile that led to Samson's haircut. I
knew that look. She was going to do something and I couldn't stop her
from doing it and it would surprise me.
But you know, I could get used to her kind of surprises.
Mila
- 09.11.2022
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