My First Weekend with Delilah, part 1 [MF]

Hey, all. I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted, but I’m back!

For the next… well, while, I want to tell you about Delilah. We actually went to high school together, but never ran in the same circles. Even then I could tell that she was a really cool person, but over the years I would be blown away by just how incredible she is.

Like I said, we went to school together, and while we didn’t hang out, we had mutual friends. Every couple of years, someone would bring her up in passing. “Delilah has been in Korea for a few years now.” “Did you see that picture of Delilah on the Great Wall?” “I heard she was joining the peace corps.”

Suffice it to say, as an avid adventurer, I was heartily disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to know her years before. So imagine my shock when, having recently become single and trying to figure out this whole online dating thing, I ran across her profile. I actually didn’t know that it was her at first, since the pictures are the last thing that I look at. Her profile was bold, charming, and full of indicators that she was just as adventurous as I am, so I frantically messaged her. It was only afterward that I remembered to look at her pictures and realized who she was.

Naturally, with a shared background and apparently way more in common than we had ever thought in our past lives, messages flew back and forth. Turns out she was attending a top tier school, and studying exactly what I’m going to school for, as if things couldn’t line up any more perfectly. In short order, we decided that the conversation needed to continue in person, over drinks.

Truth be told, neither of us knew what this was going in. There had obviously been the context of us catching up on a dating site, but then the conversation turned so intensely to our (many, many) common interests. It was so easy for us to just gush about all of it, that it started to feel like maybe we were just friends getting together to gab. If only we knew what was in store for us…

I arrived at the bar a bit early. I think the waitresses knew that I was nervous. They kept trying to talk me down as I fussed with a menu I hadn’t even read. Then Delilah walked in. She had clearly come into her own in the near decade since I’d last seen her. Just a little shorter than me, she walked with a confidence I hadn’t seen before. Her hair was purple now, and I couldn’t help but note her excited, kind smile.

Drinks were ordered, and I immediately tested her adventurous nature with a side dish that she’d never heard of. I lit up when she was all for it. Over the course of three drinks and two hours, conversation flowed more naturally with this person who I had never really talked to two days prior than I’d ever experienced with my closest friends. We peppered each other back and forth about our lives since high school, our travels, our experiences, our plans, our thoughts, our studies, everything.

At some point, we decided to go to a late night arcade to keep the party going. Conversation turned to competition, with either one of us playing a game and then trying to beat the other’s score, or tag teaming side scrolling hoodlums with all of the cheesy retro dialogue a 90’s arcade game demanded. It was at this point, playing a terrible game, shooting accented insults back and forth at each other and to the Die Hard terrorists alike, frantically slapping keys at random, and cheering both our victories and defeats, that I knew this was absolutely a date. Hell, it was one of the best dates I’d ever been on.

After finally defeating Not-Hans-Gruber, we bought a victory round and had a seat in the back of the arcade. This naturally led to people watching. We spied a couple who were making out fast and furious a few couches away, and a couple who were both on their phone, facing opposite directions at the next table. We wove jokes at their expense with conversations about our own views on relationship, some of our histories in them, and what we were looking for.

“So,” I said, finally working up some nerve (certainly aided by five or six drinks in the last few hours), “the dating site…”

I let the implied question hang in the air. I could see her blush in the dim neon light.

“Yeeeah,” she forced a chuckle. “I just kind of wanted to see where it would go. I’m not looking for anything super serious right now, and it just seemed like … I don’t know, what did I have to lose?”

“Same,” I said, explaining that I’d just gotten out of a really tough break up. “I’d never used one before. I didn’t even expect to meet anyone. But here we are.” I smiled nervously.

It was around this time that we realized that the last train back to mine had departed a few hours ago, and that I was stuck in the city.

“Come back to my place,” Delilah offered.

Despite my half hearted protests that I didn’t want to put her out, she insisted, so away we went.

In the cab, we talked about city, I peered at the towers sliding past each other, and I laced my fingers with hers. I didn’t even think about it. It just felt right. There was a connection, thin and new as it was, and it felt good to give it a physical form.

We spilled out of the cab the way that you do at 2 am with half a dozen drinks in you, giddy and freezing. She led me into her apartment building, and as we waited for an elevator I stole a kiss. She smiled, half embarrassed and completely genuine.

“You can sleep in my bed,” she said in the elevator, “if you want.”

I didn’t know what to expect. Neither did she. But I took her up on her offer.

I searched for her hand under the blankets, letting my fingers slowly draw patterns on her palm. She shivered. After a minute, my fingers continued up her wrist and forearm, sending her into delicate tremors. I shifted closer, letting my nails trace circles at the base of her spine, each pass making her visibly quake and forcing a gasp.

She turned around to face me and kissed me, gently at first, but as my hands continued to work patterns into her skin, her kiss became more urgent. She gasped and groaned into my lips almost continuously while I just grinned into hers.

I broke into a full smile when I grabbed her breast and she moaned deeply into our kiss. She tilted her head back, and I took the opportunity to attack her neck, kissing from her shoulder, across her collar bone, up her neck, and behind her ear before taking her skin between my teeth and biting my way back down. In the meantime, I’d found her nipple, poking out hard into my palm, and began to play with it.

“Hold on, wait,” she whispered between enthusiastic moans. “I don’t usually do this.”

She was panting.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

There wasn’t a second’s thought.

“No.”

“It’s okay if you do,” I said, already rolling on top of her.

She grabbed a handful of my hair. “I don’t.”

With that, I crushed my lips against hers. Our bodies rolled against one another, hands running over each other, everywhere. I learned the flair of her hips, the strength of her arms, the angle of her chin, how her tangled hair was just course enough to seem a bit ‘wild’. I learned the feel of her tongue fighting my own, and the feel of her nails digging into my chest.

My hand cupped her breast. She let out a deep moan into our kiss. Her nails raked over my scalp when I circled my thumb over her nipple. I’d planned on taking it slow, but every one of her reactions was so powerful that I got swept up, pushing my fingers past her waistband and into her panties.

Her head shot back. She cried out as my fingertips brushed past her pierced clit. She was absolutely drenched, and I couldn’t hold back my own moan into the crook of her neck as I slid my over her slick lips. I traced little circles around her clit, just barely applying any pressure. Every tap against her piercing would sent a shiver through her. Her hands gripped at my shirt desperately, as if she might fall away if she let go. She whimpered and cooed, eyes alternately squeezed shut and wide open.

She surprised me by grabbing me through my jeans, and then quickly undoing my belt. Before I could even protest, she’d bent down and shoved my cock straight down her throat.

My turn to cry out.

Delilah set about a quest so singular and with such determination as I have never before witnessed in my entire life: to devour my fucking rod.

Her tangle of purple hair bobbed up and down with a furious vengeance. I could feel her lips sucking the life out of me and her tongue coaxing me while she drove herself further and further. All I could do was hold on for dear life, gripping her sheets so hard that I would later (once I could think again) check to see if I’d torn them and staring wide eyed at the ceiling. Then, as if she needed to prove something, she shoved herself so far down my length that her face was flat against my abs.

I saw stars.

At this point, I lost all control. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her up to crush her lips on mine. They were still slick from her fantastic head and I fucking loved it.

In a desperate blur, our cloths were off, both of us yanking each other’s and clawing at our own. I sucked a nipple into my mouth and chuckled when her body literally arched off of the bed. Her hands alternately gripped my hair, holding me to her, or grabbed desperately at the headboard, pillows, blankets, or anything else in reach to tether her to reality.

Nothing was said.

Nothing needed to be said.

I lined myself up with her, slipping the head of my cock up and down her lips to watch her squirm. I was still slick from her throat and she was positively dripping.

With one last kiss, I drove myself into her.

Her body arched completely off the bed, dragging the sheets and mattress liner with her.

“Fuck!”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5wm26g/my_first_weekend_with_delilah_part_1_mf