It is our 5th time out, together, alone. I don’t know if they are dates. I want them to be dates, but you are so amazing. So Amazing that you can do better than me. I am ok good looking. I would describe myself as athletic, but I don’t have a six pack or anything. I have a nice job; nice enough to afford my own place and luxury car that is only a few years old. But, I can’t afford to fly us both First Class to San Diego to watch the Phillies play the Padres in the playoffs. And you deserve that. But, you seem to like spending time together. We have done the movie thing, kayaking, dinners, drinks and dancing.
Tonight I am waiting outside your place for you to come out. We have reservations at an American restaurant downtown. Then we walk to a comedy club. That guy that you like is the headliner. I had to buy scalped tickets to get in, but you are worth it. I’ll downplay how difficult it was to get them, if you ask. I don’t want you to know how much I like you.
Five hours later, we are headed back to my car. We had a great time. Dinner was good; the food, service and conversation. You laughed at my corny jokes. You were empathetic when I opened up about how hard it has been being here alone; away from my family and friends. The comedian was funny, even if his humor was a little dark for me. I could see how much you liked it, though. That made me like him. We had a great time together. I had a great date.
The ride back to your place was fast. On the ride we relaughed at the best jokes of the night. You even touched my arm and thigh a few times as you laughed. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but it felt good.
I pulled up outside your building. We chatted for a few minutes. I didn’t want the night to end, but I wasn’t sure you felt the same. I thought about the old, “I need to pee” excuse to get invited in. I just couldn’t pull the trigger.
I turned in my seat to give you hug as we said our goodbyes. I lingered a bit in the hug, but hopefully stopped before it became awkward.
You spun in your seat, opened the door and got out. I ogled your ass as you pulled yourself out of the seat. Those expensive Jean’s you like to wear had fallen a little bit and I got a great view of your thong. Pink and lacy. I took a mental picture of it . It was going to be fodder for my beat off session when I got home.
You thanked me again for a great night as you closed the door. As a gentleman, I waited and watched as you made your way to the building door. But before you got there. You stopped. You paused. Then, you turned and walked back towards the car. I rolled down the window and looked around to see if you had forgotten anything. I didn’t see a purse or phone anywhere.
You stuck your head in the open window, “What are we doing? Why don’t you like me?”
I sat in stunned silence. I didn’t know how to respond. Before I could, “I thought that I was giving you all of the signals. I played with my hair, I touched your arm, looked at you longingly. I even undid one more button on my shirt so you could see the girls. I sat here outside my apartment and told you that my roommate was gone for the weekend. But you just gave me a hug. I wanted a kiss. I wanted a make out session. I wanted you to put your hand in my shirt, in my pants. I wanted to take you upstairs and see what was hiding in your pants.
“What is wrong me that you don’t want those things with me? Am I not pretty enough? Do you think that because I don’t have a fancy job, I am not good enough for you? Do you just not like me?
“What is it?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I opened the car door and walked around the front bumper to you. I put my left hand on your cheek. I brushed it with my thumb. I put my right hand on your hip and held you there. I looked deep into your eyes, slid my right hand around to the small of your back and pulled you in, closer to me.
I tilted my head slightly to the right. Instinctively, you did the same. My eyes closed as our lips met. Our kiss started softly. Our lips met, slightly pursed open. They met for a long few seconds and then I pulled away. My eyes opened in time to see yours open, too. We gazed at each other for a another, few, long seconds. Then passion took over. Our lips met again, but this time our mouths were open. Our tongues danced in each others mouths. They darted in and out. They danced with each other. They wrestled.
Our lips were pressed together. My mouth was moist from our kissing. I gently bit down on your lower lip and teasingly tugged on it.
I was acutely aware that your hands were rubbing up and down my back. Your nails were dragging across my shirt. They were generating electricity. I was getting more and more turned on.
My hands were grabbing your ass. Each cheek fitting perfectly in my palms. I kneaded them. Massaging them. Lifting you off the ground and onto your tippy toes. I pulled you close into me. I could feel your heart pounding in your chest cavity. Or was it my heart? It was both of our hearts.
Our heat, our passion, was starting to make me sweat.
I pressed you against my car as our tongues continued to battle each other. I wanted you to feel my weight. I wanted to make it more difficult for you to breath. I wanted you to feel how much I wanted you as my jeans rubbed against your jeans. Could you feel my excitement? My desire?
I lifted you off of your toes. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around me. I took two steps to the right and placed your ass on the hood of my car, freeing my hands to explore you.
I put each hand on your face, on your cheeks. I slid them behind your ears and into your blond hair. I took fistfuls of hair and moved your head to the right and left as I wanted to change our kissing.
I ran my right hand down your body and to your leg. They were still wrapped around me. You were holding on like I might breakaway from our kiss. You were holding on like your life depended on it.
My hand worked its way up from your knee to your hip. I rubbed and massaged your thigh. I teased running my thumb into the crease between your legs. But I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to prolong our passion. Instead, I worked my up your stomach, the back of my hand barely touching you. I knew you could feel it. It tingled. It teased. You wanted more. Our now rough kissing created a desire for more sensation all over your body. But I wanted you to feel the contrast of sensations. The hard, passionate kissing, tempered with the soft touch on your skin.
I continued moving my hand up your body. The light touches felt like small tickles on your skin. It was having and extremely erogenous effect on you. You were panting into my mouth. You were grinding your hips into my crotch like you were trying to get me to enter you thru all of our clothes. My hand continued is directed meandering up your body. I brushed lightly over your chest. My knuckles just grazing your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. I was surprised at how hard they were. I was just as surprised that you weren’t wearing a bra. How had I missed that all night?
My fingertips brushed of the top of your breast and I lowered the heel of my palm. I was now holding most of your breast in my hand. I didn’t move my hand. I was barely holding you, almost hovering over your breast.
Almost all of the contact between my hand and your breast was just the soft touch of my fingertips. My palm was barely in contact with your nipple, but I could still feel it poking into me. That meant that you could feel the heat of my hand on you. I knew that you wanted a squeeze. I wanted to squeeze you. I wanted to feel your tissue move under the pressure of my fingers. I wanted you to moan into my mouth as erotic waves passed from your breast to your crotch pressed so hard against me. I wanted you to gasp as I teased and pinched your nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I wanted the anticipation to last. I just held my hand there, poised to release the sexual energy. I held it there as long as I could.
I couldn’t hold out any longer. I had to feel you. I pressed my fingers into your skin and covered as much of your ample bosom as I could. My fingers held still, supporting the top of your breast. My thumb, sitting in the fold where breast met chest pressed in and up. Up the breast it worked. Pressing in and moving skin forcing it left, right, up and down under its pressure. Slowly but deliberately my thumb moved up. Up towards where we both knew it would end up. Eventually it arrived at the edge of the areola. But I didn’t stop there. I desired to hear you moan. That moan was so close. I didn’t have the courage to pause, to tease you, to make you wait. I wanted it as much as you did. Our kissing slowed as we both concentrated on the movement my right hand. We did not have to wait any longer. My thumb found the apex of your breast.
Your nipple was already hard. It, like your puffy areola, was engorged. I rubbed up your nipple and pressed it in the the webbing of my hand, pinching it slightly. The moan I had been anticipating/desiring escaped your lips. I didn’t let up. I released your breast and gripped it again. This time I squeezed it hard in my whole hand. All four of my fingers raced up the side of your boob meeting my thumb at the top. Through your shirt I pinched your nipple, twisting it, rolling it between my thumb and middle finger. I feared I was being to rough. But you never reacted more than another moan into my mouth and press your chest into my hand.