[MF] She Was (Part 1 – The Beginning)

*First time posting… This story is entirely true, with the exception of her name.* *This post is long as it sets the stage for all that was to happen.* *It took place within the past 5 years and is just the first of many stories associated with this woman.*

Stephanie was the saleswoman who assisted me while shopping for a particular item. She seemed nice enough, around my age, and was certainly easy on the eyes – shoulder-length blonde hair, cute, great legs, well-spoken, no wedding ring. But, as this was likely to take just a few minutes, my mindset was to get in and out and continue on with my day. However, just about everything that could go wrong with a simple purchase did go wrong (item out of stock, computer glitches, nosey manager, etc.) and we wound up interacting for at least an hour.

During that hour, she started giving me compliments, asking probing questions, flirting… The conversation flowed freely with lots of laughter. I learned that she was single, we’re close in age, live fairly close to each other and have some common interests. Taking all of this in, the wheels in my head started turning. I’m a fairly reserved guy, so, knowing that I have to return in a week or so to finalize the purchase, I decide to bide my time and depart with the standard niceties: “Nice meeting you… Thanks for your help… See you next week…”

As the days passed, I kept replaying the conversation and the visuals. I decided I was going to go for it when I went back. I returned to the store exactly one week later to pick up the item and ask her out, but she was not working that day. Stupid me for not scanning the store before going in to make sure she was there. But I needed the item ASAP so…

I left dejected but determined to figure out how to cross paths with this woman again without going back into the store. It’s a store that sells very specific items that you might buy every few years, if at all. It’s not like you would go in there weekly or even monthly. Besides, who wants to be confronted at work by a somewhat stranger with a romantic proposition? Not cool.

Suffice it to say that life has a way of taking you where it needs you to be – as a result, essentially nothing happened for another 7 months. It wasn’t for lack of interest, there were just more important things going on in my life. But, after the death of two close friends in consecutive months, it was plainer to me than ever that there are certain things you can’t wait for to happen, you’ve got to make them happen. After the funeral of the 2nd friend, I didn’t even go home, I drove straight to the store praying she would be there. Suit, tie, the whole funeral deal. As I approached the store, I glanced in to see if she was there. *She was.*

Yep – there she was – conveniently standing near the entrance, arranging merch, not assisting anyone. It was now or never. I walked up to her and asked her if she had a few minutes to talk, and, apologized for interrupting her at work. I reintroduced myself and refreshed her memory of 7 months earlier. I took a second to gauge if she was receptive to what I was telling her. *She was.*

I told her, among other things, that she had really stood out to me that day. That I’d been thinking about her since then. That I’d hoped to run into her out in the wild, but, since that didn’t happen, I had no other choice but to come into the store. When I was done, she told me that those were some of the nicest things anyone had said to her in a long time.

To me, the encounter felt like it lasted much longer than it did. Here I was, spilling my guts in a surprise visit to someone I, for all practical purposes, did not know. Not the kind of thing I do every day. In reality, it probably lasted just a few minutes. When she noticed that my spiel was coming to an end she said **“Here, you’re going to need this.”** as she scribbled her number on a small piece of paper and handed it to me. I told her I’m a man of my word and that she’d hear from me within a day or two.

When I got home, I texted her my full name so she could google me and check my social media to get a feel for me and see that I was legit. And, so that she would have my number. I called her the next day and we decided to meet for coffee the following weekend.

That day came and I’d arrived first so I settled in to wait for her. A few minutes later I spotted her coming towards me, and, well, my heart sank a little. She had on a frumpy black top, and her hair was weird – the vibe was in jeopardy. We got our drinks and decided to go for a walk so that we could talk and get to know each other better. It was a really odd conversation. When we got back to the coffee shop, she asked if we could sit and talk some more before heading our separate ways. When it came time to say goodbye, she threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug. She smelled great.

How to proceed? I had seen glimpses of hope but I also saw some red flags. I didn’t have anything better to do, and, I’d been thinking about her for 7 months, so, I decided what the hell, give it a go and see what happens. A couple days later I texted her and told her I wanted to see her again and asked her if she was still interested. *She was.*

Over the course of the next several months we did a variety of things together. Hit some dive bars, grabbed some meals, caught some movies, went hiking, toured a few places. It was fun. I could tell early on though that she was not as ready as me to move forward physically.

One of those times, I invited her to my place for dinner. I took the day off from work and spent it in the kitchen preparing a great meal for us to enjoy that evening. She arrived right on time and with a bottle of wine. She looked smoking hot in a dress that hugged her entire body. I gave her a tour, we had a few cocktails – which she made – hot! Why “hot”? Here’s why –> I’m a giver and I’d become so accustomed to taking care of everyone else that just the simplest little thing of being asked what I wanted to drink, and then making it for me, meant a lot to me.

After dinner and getting some of the mess cleaned up, I looked her straight in the eyes and said: **“Well, it’s time for the big question…”** Her face went blank and her eyes opened wide. She hesitated and said “OK, what’s your question?” To which I replied “Would you like some rice pudding – I made it myself.” Haha. She knew I was playing with her and gave me a smirk as if to say “you dick”.

Each time we were together, I could sense her walls crumbling a little more. Her clothes were getting sexier. Necklines were getting lower. Hemlines were getting shorter. Heels were getting higher. Everything was getting tighter. Embraces were getting longer. Truth be told, I’m easy to please – throw your hair in a pony tail, put on a pair of faded ripped jeans and a t-shirt and I’m good to go. (If you really want to get my attention, put on a baseball cap and pull your ponytail through the back loop. It’s the little things…) Stephanie was sexy, no doubt about it. I watched her do the dishes one night in complete amazement. She wore those goofy-looking long waterproof gloves to protect her skin. Even with those on – she was HOT – the way she looked, the way she moved, the way her hair swayed. That ass.

The next few dates foretold that things were about to change dramatically. In short:

D-Day minus 2 –> When she got out of my car at the end of a date, she held me for an unusually long time and as she walked away, she stopped, turned back around, paused, and gave me a look that I had yet to see on her face – a look that could only be interpreted as “I want you.” No words, just a pause and a look. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget that moment – I hope not.

D-Day minus 1 –> We hit a dive bar where she recognized some people from long ago. This knocked her for a loop and she started tossing back shots like they were lemonade. She lost it. To comfort her I reminded her of all the great things I saw in her, why I had asked her out, why I think she’s great. She responded by taking my hand and holding it tightly and started rubbing my knee furiously with her other hand. She became very emotional to the point where it was now a total shit show and we had to jet. She continued to implode further as the next couple hours passed. That night ranks high on my list of crazy evenings.

She texted me the next day to say that because she’d gotten home so late and cried so much, she had to call in sick. Her eyes were swollen, she couldn’t find her car keys, her head was killing her, she was a wreck. I offered to leave work to take care of her, or at least just keep her company, but she said no. So, I sent flowers. Hopefully she was a fan of flowers. As I soon would come to learn, *she was.*

I finally had a weekend to myself. No plans with Stephanie, wasn’t on call, the weather was perfect, I was caught up with house chores. I was free to go anywhere and do anything I wanted. So, I decided to spend the day doing things I’d been missing. That started with turning the alarm clock off so that I could sleep in Saturday morning.

Got up, made some breakfast, and headed out to go fishing. Hadn’t been fishing in forever and couldn’t wait to get to my favorite spot. I spent several hours there, fishing, playing with the dogs, having time to think, enjoying the beautiful weather and the fresh air.

Hunger set in so I set off to a great country deli that I hadn’t been to in a long time. Got there, ordered a hoagie, grabbed a bottle of water and hopped in my SUV to head home. It was one of those precious moments where you are happy, free, nobody waiting for you or expecting anything from you. Riding along the country roads, windows down, music blaring, chomping on a hoagie, smelling crappy from the combination of not having showered, fish, manure, mud and bait. I was letting go of the world for a bit. Grateful and appreciative for this life and for this day.

Got home and thought, dude, you’re having a mighty manly day, what manly thing can you do next to keep the vibe going? Target shooting – yeah, that’s the ticket. Put away my fishing stuff, grab my shooting stuff, hop back in the SUV and head back out. (No, I am not a redneck, not that there’s anything wrong with rednecks – I love rednecks. I think I’m a closet redneck. I am not even a hunter. And certainly not some deranged gun-crazed wacko. I am just a guy raised blue-collar who somehow wound up living a white-collar life. A guy who enjoys the challenge of trying to hit that tiny bullseye with that tiny bullet.) I arrive and drive down thru the woods to the range, set up, and start letting it rip. Safely, and legally. The bugs are buzzing, still beautiful weather, nobody else around, my shots are pretty much on target. Life is good.

While there, my sister texted me asking if I could help her with a few things early evening and, of course, I said “yes” – she’s my sister. Eventually I head home, get cleaned up, grab a beer, catch a game on TV and relax a bit before going to help her. My manly day of freedom has maintained its’ vibe.

I hung out with my sister until all my brotherly tasks were complete. I no sooner get home, probably around 10p, when my phone dings – a text from Stephanie. She said she wanted to see me. I asked her if she was interested in coming to my place. *She was.*

Not sure what I was in for, I took a quick shower, did some tidying and made sure there were some cold ones in the fridge. I threw some great CDs in the stereo, and, waited. I heard the door open and there she was – beautiful. She had a great outfit on. Her hair was down, she was smiling, happy, and had a bottle of champagne with her.

We held each other as we chatted about this and that. I realized that although I had thought of her as somewhat short, she really wasn’t – I had quite a few inches on her but she wasn’t actually as short as she was in my mind. The same for her build – in my mind she was petite, but she wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, she had a smoking hot body that any man alive would kill to take a crack at, just not a “petite” one. The things that run through your mind…

We headed for the sofa to enjoy the music and our drinks when she brought up the flowers. I’d forgotten about them. She hadn’t. How beautiful they were. How thoughtful it was to send them. That her favorite flower was in the arrangement. Then she said, **“I want to properly thank you for sending them to me.”** And, with that, she leaned over to kiss me. But, instead of a quick kiss, or even a moderate kiss, she was going for it. It came out of nowhere, catching me off guard.

She went from 0 to 60 faster than a Porsche. Seeing she was not letting up, I decided it was time to test the boundaries… I made a move – and she just went with it – no hesitation whatsoever. Made an even more daring move – again, zero resistance. Boundaries – what boundaries? There are no boundaries. The boundaries are gone. Somewhere along the way she had made a decision. I don’t know when, where, why or how. Perhaps it was the evening she stopped, turned around, paused, and gave me “the look”? Regardless, the wait was over. This was D-Day and man was I ready to storm her beaches.

I stood up, bringing her with me. Now upright, our arms around each other, swaying to the music, kissing, my hands gently exploring her. Gently caressing her face. Moving her long hair behind her ears. Her, pawing at my manhood. Nibbling on her ears, her neck, her shoulders. Whispering sweet nothings to each other. Stopping occasionally to sing along. Lost in each other. Tasting each other. Smelling each other. Touching each other, kissing, grinding, groping. Again my mind wandered momentarily, listening to the music that was playing, music that had accompanied me throughout my life, now attaching new memories to it. Freddie, Todd, Paul, Tom – it’s time to write another chapter my friends – thanks for being my wingmen – you never let me down. I asked her if she was ready to move to the bedroom. *She was.*

I was never so thankful for my California King bed as I was in that moment. And I intended to use every inch of it. We laid down and continued to make out for a while, shedding clothes as we went. She smelled great. She felt great. A gorgeous, radiant smile. Her voice was that of an angel. The sound of her laugh was just so damn cute. Her breasts were beautiful, heaving. Although I’d imagined them many times, they outdid my imagination – which is not easy thing to do. Her bras had not lied as bras tend to do. Rather, her bras were keeping luscious secrets. Her breasts were even fuller than they appeared – full, soft, natural. And now, mine. But not just her breasts, all of her. She was giving all of her self to me.

At this point all I had on was a pair of boxer-briefs, she in her soaked panties. We got up to grab another drink, another of many that would play a role in how the night would continue to unfold. As we did, she reached in and pulled out my rock-hard dick. She’d been pawing at it for a while, but now it was in her hands. She looked at it, caressed it. Panting, she looked at me and said: **“There isn’t a girl in this country who wouldn’t want to sit on this.”** (Yes, those were her exact words. And, as I came to later learn, she knew that of which she spoke.) With that, she dropped to her knees and started going to town on it with her hands and mouth. As it turned out, this chick loved to suck dick.

The old adage is correct after-all – good things come to those who wait.

More to come if this generates any interest….

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/lwzank/mf_she_was_part_1_the_beginning