This was going to be the best night of my life. He was coming to dinner. The man of my dreams was coming to dinner and I was atwitter with excitement and behaving like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
I had taken the afternoon off work to prepare. I had called in to the markets on the way home to collect the fresh ingredients for his favourite dishes, the bottle shop to select wines that would complement the meal courses, table decorations, new sheets for the bed, CD's of his favourite music to play in the background during the evening.
Everything was going to plan, the bed was made and I had made sure that the dimmer switch was working so that the light was at the desired ambience for the action that was to come. My dress, the one that had cost me the best part of a week's wages was ready to put on at the last minute, my makeup was ready to apply after my shower and the right scents were standing ready to apply. Everything had to be perfect.
I was so busy that I didn't have time to question why I was going to all this effort, I knew why, tonight I was going to give myself to him entirely, I would be his forever. My mind did go back to that magic moment when we first met.
* * *
I was moving through the crowd milling around the gallery for this important exhibition of contemporary art works. It had taken me time to mount, reviewing the work of dozens of artists, selecting which artists would be asked to display, choosing the actual works to feature and arranging the hanging so that no ego would be deflated, then arranging for transport and insurance, for publicity and it was all now falling into place. It was at times like this that I was happiest. I had studied Art History at university and travelled throughout Europe visiting all the best galleries to learn and gain a feel for the job. I even worked at Christies in London for six months learning that side of the business and making contacts that would help me when I managed to find work in a gallery, and it was through these contacts that I was able to mount this exhibition, an important one for both the gallery and for my standing in this world.
It was then that I saw him. He stood looking at the most important of the works, a look of puzzlement on his face. I walked over to him. "What do you think?"
"I have to confess that I can't work it out. I saw a write-up of this in the paper and I don't see what the reviewer was getting at."
"I can understand that, it is an interpretive piece that has several meanings depending on how you look at it. It means different things to different people. I see different things in it every time I look at it."
That encounter, brief as it was, led to further encounters including a dinner invitation followed by our first sexual experience, together that is. He was a kind and considerate lover, taking the process at a slow pace that built to a crescendo of mutual orgasms.
He had driven me to my house and of course I had invited him in. He took my key from me and opened the door, his arm slipped around my waist as he ushered me inside and it seemed natural that I should turn and allow him to kiss me once we were inside and the door was closed.
God he could kiss, and it wasn't the small amount of wine that I had consumed that caused the light-headedness that I felt at that moment. His hands had dropped to my arse as he pulled me close in a truly passionate embrace. My arms were around his neck and my mouth opened a little in an invitation for his tongue to enter.
After several minutes of tongue involved kissing he withdrew his mouth from mine and I felt his lips on my throat, then his teeth lightly biting me. My head went back allowing him free access to me. "You smell wonderful tonight, Obsession is perfect for you."
"That's not the only place I have it." I hoped that I didn't sound too much like a slut.
"Oh yes, and where else have you put it?" He chuckled into my throat.
"You'll have to find out for yourself." I must have had the right amount of tease in my voice because he found out for himself, after much slow and glorious exploration that is. My god it was slow. My god it was glorious. It took forever for his fingers to slide the zipper down to the base of my spine. It took forever for those same fingers to ease themselves under my panties and fondle my arse and all the while I could feel his hard cock pressing into me.
I had taken his jacket from him and my fingers worked their way slowly from button to button until I was able to run them through the hair on his chest, and all of this time his lips never left mine, his tongue never stopped caressing mine. I was glad that his hands were on my arse because I knew that if he let go I would collapse in a heap on the floor, my knees were that week.
I withdrew my lips, "You, me, sofa, sit." We moved to the sofa and the next slow and glorious stage. On the way from the door to the sofa my dress somehow managed to fall to the floor, the fact that the zipper was undone and he had slipped the shoulder straps off might have had something to do with it. Also on the pile of clothing was his shirt and trousers, he had to slip off his shoes to get them off. He wore Lycra trunks that seemed to accentuate the size of his cock but looks can be deceiving, it really was as big as it looked, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
With no bra to slow progress his lips found my nipples and his hands caressed my breasts, I tell you this man knew his way around the female body and he knew just what turned me on. Any hesitation that I might have felt at this point had totally disappeared. A hand found my wet and waiting pussy and a finger slipped inside. I didn't tell my hips to push against his hand, they did it all on their own.
My hand meanwhile had slipped under the waistband of his trunks and found that he was as ready for this as I was. I moved the tip of my finger back and forth across the head of his cock, feeling the opening at its tip at around the same time as his tongue pushed its way into my pussy.
I eased his trunks down until I could take his cock into my mouth. As I slid down the length of his shaft I realised that this was the first time that I had ever done this and it felt so gooood, almost as good as my pussy felt.
From his reaction I knew that he was feeling just as good as I was and it wasn't long before he took his cock from my mouth and placed it into my pussy. The man was an artist on the couch, he was an artist on the bed and we had sex pretty much all night, and many times since then.
He lived in Melbourne while I lived in Sydney and he called me often to arrange to meet when next he was in town. I looked forward to these meetings and would arrange my schedule around his.
Our meetings were nearly always inside jobs, the inside of hire cars, the inside of restaurants, the inside of my house, and him coming inside me. I know what you're thinking, that I'm a slut allowing him to come inside me but it was safe, he was clean and I was on the pill, and if me enjoying the feeling of his come flooding my pussy makes me a slut, then I guess I am.
Words can't describe the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of my pussy, or the sensation when I reach my climax, especially when this all happens at once. Thank god for sound proofing because when this happens I can get very vocal, I didn't want the neighbours to know what a slut I've become.
