Are You Thinking What I’m Thinking? Part 2 [MF, slow, no sex?]

Part 1 here

My eyes caress you as I open the door- maybe you were thinking what I was thinking. Your sundress is snug in all the right places, loose

and flowing in the rest. I hold the door, blocking the way in, while my gaze wanders and lingers at will over your body until your blush

lets me know…
“Thanks for meeting me here- it’s a shame to meet all the way uptown just to be within walking distance of my place. Let me grab my

laptop and we’ll be on our way.” I walk to my study, grabbing my backpack and pause a moment- taking a breath. Today is the culmination

of glances, gazes, flirtations, hints, chats, planning and daydreaming. Trying to find common ground finally led to a coffee and trial

collaboration on a project, writing from two points of view to deliver the whole. I return seeing you gazing at the couch, my wolfish

grin causing a smile on your face.
I consider just for a moment- pulling you into my arms, tight against me and kissing your temple, your ear, your jaw. My hands running

over your bare shoulders, onto your back and resting on your hips, holding you close. Your arms around my neck prompt me to kiss your

lips and slide my hands around to the small of your back, down; pulling you up against me. I move you to the wall, my kiss now devouring

your tongue, searching your mouth, my hands roaming up to caress your sides, sliding down, pulling up your dress as your hips press

against mine, our kiss urgent, our breathing heavy, my hands slide up your bare leg, down inside your waistband-
Too soon! My breath hitches and I take a shaky breath. Your concerned eyes probe for a second. “Are you feeling OK? Do you need to stay

in?”
“Killing me” I groan softly, then louder “Just had the feeling I was forgetting something. This is going to be a blast, let’s go!” The

walk to the coffee shop is a blur. It turns out we are both people-watchers, loving to be the fly on the wall, imagining the stories

behind everyone we see.
I don’t remember anything specific beyond the color of your sun-kissed skin and the light breeze catching and swishing your skirt. We

arrive at the coffee shop, chat about nothing while in line and take our cliché drink and pastry to a cozy table. We are instantly lost

to the world in our discussion, setting to work, chatting back and forth, falling into an easy and comfortable rhythm.
“I’m kind of surprised this is going so well- I thought for sure you were just playing a game.” You say nonchalantly, looking at me out

of the corner of your eye. I’m caught off guard. Of course it is a game- to look at it differently would be heart-rending. To see love,

longing, desire, anticipation- as real life- that’s just depressing. To pin your sanity, your self-respect on the callous thoughts of

another- how can that be real? Heart-ache and heart-break are bad enough without real-life consequences. “Maybe I’m playing a higher

level of game” I respond after a pause.
You look disappointed for an instant, and then reply “I expected you to drag me into your apartment and ravish me”, leaning forward

conspiratorially and showing your un-restrained breasts to my down-turned gaze. My thoughts return in a flash to my apartment, your

hands ripping open my shirt, my hands pushing your panties down, my lips moving to your neck and biting softly, your hands hurry at my

belt and zipper. I grab your hands and move them gently to my shoulders, your face disappointed until I move down your body, lifting

your skirt and kissing your thigh, your belly, working slowly closer to your fiery liquid center. My tongue flicks out-
“Where’d you go?” I hear as real-life snaps back in focus. “Killing me” I mutter. “Just thinking of something left undone” I reply. I see your expression is quizzical for a moment, then serene as you pull your feet up on the seat and lean comfortably against me. “Tell

me” you say softly.
“I refuse on the grounds my answer may get me slapped” I see you swallow hard, my heart sinking and stomach in knots. A perfect outing

spoiled irrecoverably.
“Don’t make me be the brave one. Don’t make me say how much I want you”, so quietly I can barely make it out. My ears are ringing; air

is rushing through my head. I’m stunned.
Romance is supposed to be hard, ungainly, awkward. My heart re-starts and thuds hard against my chest. I lean down and slowly kiss your

forehead, then move to your rising lips. “Tell me” you repeat.
“It involves your dress in disarray, my tongue, and your ‘fiery center’” I breathe softly into your ear. I can’t breathe. My heart is

stopped and thudding loudly at the same time. You pause a moment and sit up straight. I’m hit with a hammer and my vision goes dark as

you look at me quizzically.
“Why aren’t we back at your place yet?” you say with a grin. Light surrounds us and we are unstoppable.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2r5axs/are_you_thinking_what_im_thinking_part_2_mf_slow