First Time Kneeling: An Evening with My New Dom
As I step out of the train station into the crisp autumn air, the leaves crunch under my feet and the warm colors orange and yellow surround me. The air is cool but not too cold. I pull my coat tighter around me and continue on my way, feeling excited about the upcoming play date. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the sky, and the streets are quiet except for the occasional sound of a passer by. I can't help but smile as I think about what the night might hold, grateful for the beauty of the season and the butterflies inside of me.
I have not known him for long. We meet two weeks ago at a munch. After seeing him around through the evening. Trying to muster the courage to strike up a conversation with him, I take a deep breath and walk up to the bar. My heart is racing, but I know I need to take the first step. As I order my drink, I steal a quick glance at him. I take another deep breath, turn to him, and say hello. He turns to me with a smile, and we start chatting about the weather and then about our motivation to be at the munch. As we talk, my nerves begin to fade, and before I know it the evening is over and we exchanged phone numbers. I'm glad I had the courage to start the conversation at the much. Now, as I walk to his apartment, I'm curios to see where this night might lead.
Contrary to the stories one reads on literotica, he isn't rich or powerful. He's a white-collar worker who lives in a small town in a modest three-bedroom flat. He's intelligent, a published (academic) author, has a fulfilling career, and speaks five languages. At 36, he's older than me and bears a striking resemblance to Milo Ventimiglia, with the piercing gaze of Chris Pine.
As I take a moment to ground myself before ringing the doorbell. I take a quick look at myself in the window's reflection. I notice that my navy-blue sweater is untucked from my forest green skirt and quickly fix it. After scanning the rest of my outfit, I'm relieved to see that my black tights are pristine, boots are neat, and my long curls loosely frame my face. With one deep breath, I finally ring the bell. As I hear his voice through the intercom, I feel a pang in my stomach - is it excitement, fear, or a mix of both? "Who is it?" he asks. "It's me, Sir." He buzzes me in, directing me to the 3rd floor at the end of the corridor.
As I reach his door, he is already there, waiting for me. The moment our eyes meet, we exchange smiles. I suddenly become shy. "Lovely to see you, come in," he says. "Thank you," I murmur as I step through the threshold. He closes the door behind me. I'm feeling nervous and excited at the same time. He invites me to take a seat on his couch. As I sit down, he walks over to his small kitchen and starts preparing tea.
As he moves around the kitchen, I can't help but feel like he's in control of the situation, and it arouses me. I try to hide my nervousness by making small talk, but my mind is racing with anticipation for what's to come. Finally, he pours the tea and brings it over to me, sitting down on the couch next to me. As we sip our tea and chat some more. I feel a sense of calm wash over me. It's clear that he's experienced in this world and knows how to subs at ease.
