We'd just met a month before, but she was so smart and funny and gorgeous, and clearly into me, which I hadn't expected but certainly wasn't complaining about. She'd beaten me in countless games of chess in cafes. We'd laughed over dinner and made out in alleyways. We'd teased each other at a party with mutual friends who'd rolled their eyes and said, "Jesus, just get a room already."
So I shouldn't have been surprised that night when she pulled me off the path in the middle of the park, dragged me behind one of the buildings, and started kissing me. Her hands trailed down my chest, over my belly, circled to my crotch. She unbuttoned my pants, started to unzip them, dipped her fingers under the waistband of my drawers-
I grabbed her hand. "Hey, um, so this might not be what you're expecting," I hedged, trying not to panic, "can we talk about-"
"I've never been afraid of a cock before," she snorted, her voice low and confident. "I'm not going to start now."
"I don't know if you-" I started, but then her hand was in my drawers and her fingers found my cock and all words evaporated. She stroked my shaft, kissed my neck, pressed her cheek to mine, her lips next to my ear. I could feel her satisfied exhalation as I grew, slick and swollen and hard for her.
"I love jerking a guy off," she murmured, nipping my ear lightly with her teeth. I jumped a little, and she laughed. "Almost as much as I love sucking cock. I love knowing I'm going to make you lose control. You are so fucking hard."
I swallowed, stumbling and fumbling for speech. "Oh, I'm aware," I managed, breathing heavy. Her fingers sped up, circling and smoothing over me, bringing me closer. Her hand sent sparks shooting through me, concentrated bursts of sensation. The alarm bells were converting to jolts of arousal as she squeezed and stroked me, her breath warm on the side of my face, her body pressed against mine. She'd obviously done this before.