Was it just a lunch date?

You thought it was just going to be lunch… but here we are, opening the front door to your house. the meal was good, but not great; however, the wine was delicious. You apprehensively open the door, and pause… thinking about asking me to wait outside as you retrieved the book you told me I could borrow, but felt that would be dramatic. What’s the worst that could happen?

This all started with a conversation about This American Life, which morphed into our adolescent opinions of the Confederacy of Dunces, and finally meandered to this years issue of The Best American Non-required Reading. You had 2012’s anthology, and I cleverly took advantage of that to insist that I have to borrow it. So here we are.
Two people, desperate to sit down, after walking all day in Boston.
A chance meeting at a cafe with only one free table…

our impromptu date was a coincidence, but you can not deny the attraction.

You invite me in and offer me water. You know the book is in one of three places, and insist that I stay put until you can locate it. I take advantage of not being chaperoned to pour what remained of a modestly-priced chardonnay that I found in your fridge into the two glasses i saw, drying inverted, next to the sink. We yell a battery of questions and answers at each other, which echo throughout the house, until I hear your footsteps approaching from down the hall. As you round the corner I thrust the wine glass into your hand, not giving you time to protest. I look you in the eyes and tell you, “I didn’t feel comfortable telling you this at the cafe, but I couldn’t stop looking at you… You really are an incredibly beautiful woman.”
You did feel a little dirty at the restaurant, with the way I was looking at you, but my genuine smile and the pleasant banter made you dismiss these thoughts. Here I was, a man you decided to keep at arms length on principle, in your kitchen with you, in a large, empty house, and I was closing the distance between us. You take a half step back, but my long strides quickly fill in the lost space. I look you in the eyes again, and I say, “I want to do something, and I want you to close your eyes and let me do it. If you do not like it, say anything, and I will leave, and you will never hear from me again…” I take the undrunk wine glass from your hand and quickly set it aside. With that you slowly close your eyes and I ask, “do you trust me?” You say nothing, but keep your eyes closed.

The first thing you feel is my left hand squeezing between your right arm and your body, gently resting mid-back. The next thing you feel is my right hand… brushing past your cheek, and resting nestled in your hair, behind your head. The last thing you feel is my lips, ever-so-softly pressing against yours. Not lustfully aggressive or forceful in any way, though you felt I was capable of that. It was passionate. It was delicate. It made you feel the longing that you knew I felt.
your fingertips touching the back of my arm, and the almost indecipherable way in which you leaned into me, was all I needed to know that you felt the same way, and even if you were angry at me, for taking advantage of your hospitality, I knew you wouldn’t be mad for long.

I push you, groping and feeling for walls, into the living room. The couch clips you behind the knees and you crumble, with me on top of you, on the sofa. you feel me starting to get hard in my jeans, and you are so turned on by the milieu of the moment. I ask if you are sure, and you answer with a face that is so animalistically full of lust, that I instantly resume my explorations of your body.

I drop to my knees and I look at you as I slide my fingers into your pant’s waist strap. The way that you lift your body off the couch to ease the removal of your pants and undergarments, assures me that I have not crossed a line. as I slide them over your knees, and over your feet, just to toss them aside as unwanted refuse, I slide my hands between your legs, and lower my mouth to your wet and waiting pussy…

I wish you would ask me for more.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/4kk7l4/was_it_just_a_lunch_date

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