So, the second date. You said wear a dress again so I did. But I’ve done something naughty this time. Our meeting is at a park again, middle of the day. The duck pond. I made the long drive but got off one exit early and pulled over. Put the vehicle in park and hiked my dress up. Looked at my white thighs a moment in the bright sunlight. Blinked a few moments. Am I doing this? Then, I lifted my ass and slid my panties off. Now where to put them, a dirty set of panties? Settled on my purse. I must remember to put these back on after.
You’re there before me this time as I anxiously scan for that strange car. I run a tongue over my teeth, is there any lipstick there? Did I put on enough deodorant? What do you sound like again? I’ve forgotten.
Now I’m getting into your car. It’s much more forgiving space wise in the front than my vehicle. This is our second test run so to speak. And here you are, the man I chose. “Hi,” I say, happy nauseous thrilled petrified elated. “Hey,” you say, and I read galaxies from that word and your face. Ok, I’m here. Ok, I still want to do this. Ok, guess what’s under my dress.
The talk is ours, just lengthy enough. You made amazing strides already to bond with me online and I feel closer to you. I am here in this place because I want to be. Please kiss me.
And you do, again. And I fall forwards and backwards and sideways at the same time. My deferentials inside slipping out of place. I try not to giggle, it’s so fun. But I am always aware. A car drives by and I instinctively flinch. Then return to drinking nectar from your lovely cup.
I am naughty. I am silly. I need this. Without asking I climb onto your lap, my legs straddling you. My dress keeps me from making contact with your cargo shorts but I am aware now; only thin pieces of cheap fabric keep those parts of us from touching.
Without missing a beat you lower your seat and I begin to absolutely feast on you. My kisses hesitant, hungry, teenagers trying to find a footing but loving the journey. And your hands move again. Then they are on my ass. Then on my ass, under my dress. Bare skin you’ve discovered. My tasty Chris Columbus. What if someone walks by? I want to tell you to cover me, not let others see. But I don’t.
And one of your hands is now in between my legs. I involuntarily groan into your mouth as you touch me in just the spot in described to you. Such a small little spot. Is that your thumb? Or a fingertip? A curious thing happens. It’s like one of those muscle spasms you get, the ones that don’t hurt but you can see the way your nerve or whatever jumps under the skin? It’s like that. A pulse, some kind of tiny spasm beating inside me. This feeling is new. And then the uncomfortableness starts. It’s an ache, like a bone deep inside on a rainy day. A swelling. I always visualize my vaginal walls releasing their fluids, because I can feel it so acutely. I clench, just for a second uncontrollably. My stomach muscles flex then release. It’s an agony of sorts.
My voice has been hitching in your ear and now I grit my teeth as I feel one of your fingers enter me. Oh no, now his hands will get all my gunk on him. Is this gross? Is he okay? I kiss you again tentatively and your respond with enthusiasm. I think it’s okay. I really want this to be okay.
Your finger is going slowly in and out of me, at times stopping to swathe my outer areas in my rich clear velvet. I hope I’m not too wet. Am I too wet? What if I smell weird? Is he still okay? And you put another finger inside me- two now and I forget the sun exists for a second. I’m frozen in place. You are watching my face. I want to look down; I know my cheeks are red.
Then you do this thing where you are moving your fingers and it’s like I’m your puppet. You controlling me with that hand. You tighten those fingers up, like closing your fist hard and I yelp and sit up straight. That hurt, but just enough. You relax them again and do something- what are you doing down there- with maybe a third finger and I suddenly want to close my thighs and bear down, pushing back against you.
I take my glasses off, they are smudged anyhow. I look at you and you’re still watching me. I smile, and you smile. This is okay. I lean back, arching my spine. Your other hand slips into my bra and pinches those hard nipples. I ride your hand.
I’m ready for a bed please a bed I’m ready for a hotel yes please I want more of you inside me please help me but don’t tell oh God will you think less of me now is this okay and oh God don’t stop whatever you’re doing right there and ow that hurts and oh God I’m going to lose it and what will I do if I lose it and do I look okay do I sound okay and Oh God right there and Oh God right fucking there.
After a while you take your hand away from there and keep me in a tight squeeze. My crotch is bucking directly against the fabric of those cargo shorts and I can feel the hardness of you below. You’re going to have to change these shorts. I hope this isn’t gross. I can’t help it. I am mortified and in a drunk state of arousal.
You never take that part of you out, even though I ask for it. I saw one picture of it and I try to remember what it looks like. “You don’t need to?” I ask. And you say no, you’re fine. I’m unsettled and humbled by your answer. An encounter, just for me?
I lay against your chest in the warm sun, still straddling you but my dress back down to hide my modesty. That you own now. My hand is under your shirt, absent mindedly feeling your chest hair. One of your arms is around me. The other strokes my hair, like a child. I close my eyes. The ducks swim lazily in the pond. God is here today.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p8rii4/one_small_step_for_man_one_giant_leap_for_my