The way I remember it may diverge from reality but the memory is so strong that I cannot help but relate it here to you. A remembrance that needs to be shared. If it was not as written here, excuse the differences but know that the thoughts of it as shown are as real as the encounter.
The invitation to dine and enjoy one another's company was hardly unexpected. We had done as before and even enjoyed out time in one particular restaurant outing far more than the menu would have allowed. Still, the anticipation that crept over me as I approached your door tightened my stomach and caused excitement in my loins just as I rang the bell. Certainly that was what caused the next events – my sudden forwardness and what followed. Although, as a willing participant I suppose there was notable contribution on your part as well.
It was when you opened the door and stood, half hidden behind it to allow for this large-framed human to enter that the cautions started to blow out that same door on the wind from inside you chamber. Your dress, that wonderful covering that revealed not so much skin as to be instantly arousing revealed your shape. That's all I needed. The first full surge of blood into my loins rushed at once. Could you notice by my somewhat shuffling gait upon entrance? Perhaps not.
You turned and explained that you would just be a moment and turned to retrieve your other items for the evening. I caught your elbow – the first contact with your skin sending electricity through me as though the live wires of your nervous system were grounded to this moment. I simply turned you and pulled you closer, gently. Your look, I recall, was a mixture of delight and curiosity. Slipping my arm about your waist and drawing you near as you slid your arms up my chest and over my shoulders in warm embrace started our dance.
As I lowered my head to kiss you I wondered for just an instant how far you had to reach onto your toes to affect the action. As our mouths came together it was you're the taste of your lips that caused the sudden "jump" in my crotch that I wondered if you felt. Pulling you closer to me as we kissed – first casually, then more fully but not fully passion-ridden, I could feel the heat of you coming through that dress. As our lips parted to gaze and gauge our mutual reactions your hips seemed to move forward, or at least that was my desire, and rested so very comfortably against mine.
So there I stood, knees bent, head bowed in order to be close to the desirous mouth of yours and to look into your eyes. You kept your ballet posture – thankfully not being fully on-point – as you returned a longing glance. Speaking volumes with your eyes alone. It was your smile that made me move next to the actions that ensued. There I saw a wickedness and delight. Your lips curled just in a fashion that said to me that here was what I wanted and that the want would not be deferred. Was that anticipation I saw as well? My memories say yes.
I placed my hands then at your waist and encouraged you to lower your feet. Standing in your shoes as opposed to off of the heels. Once grounded again, it was those hands of mine again – moving of their own will that pursued the goals of the entrance. They rode up the sides of your dress – gauzy as it was still feeling like a full wall between them and the desired aspects of you. Trying to be coy, I admit now, I allowed my thumbs to run alongside your breasts – finding out what other materials were between them and you. Pushing them along the sides of them and then lightly touching just the outer aspects of where your nipples begin. What magic that touch brought.
As though a start button had been pressed I noted that you immediately slipped out of your shoes. Yes, now you were decidedly less proximal to my mouth but that just meant my leaning more and bending more to fully enclose your mouth with mine. It also meant that my hips had to move harder into you. The next sequence was almost teenage in action. One hand moving to your ass and not quite gripping it, but holding it, lifting your hips to me. The other hand now behaving as if we were in some high-school prom party moving fully onto one very clothed breast. Still I could feel that erect nipple forcing its way forward to be touched, I thought.
Not without skills are these fingers of mine, as you've come to know, and that hand at your ass ran immediately to assess the bindings of the first layer of resistance between you and me. The zipper came down almost as if gravity had increased – though we know it was my pulling that accomplished the task. Returning to the top of the garment, the hook there was loosed in an instant and then that same hand could feel the skin of your back directly as it parted the gown. To be sure it was my front hand that kept your dress in place as long as it did. Clutching your breast and the material over it. This while now kissing you so deeply and pressing my hardening member through gabardine and tricot toward you.
You are the sly one and the one with sufficient resistance to the action to recognize the obvious. You pushed just slightly away from my clutches and then stood before me. A simple shrug of the shoulders and your dress was gravity's slave and on the floor. I took the opportunity, you'll recall, to discard my sport coat and began unbuttoning my shirt as I stared at you in your slip and stockings. However, it was your hands at work that loosed the remaining buttons and your hands that slipped my shirt away. It was also your hands that drew back over my chest and down my belly to work at the belt while I hop-footed out of my loafers.
We moved from the piling laundry in the foyer and you, pulling at the top of my underwear to lead, were the guide. I could not help it, in explanation now, I wanted to feel you closer. That's why we paused before entering the bedroom and why I removed your slip just outside the door. I was surprised only mildly that there was not a brassiere in place beneath. There was some planning on your part for ease of access I assumed. I just wanted your flesh pressed against mine. That's why I wrapped you in my arms and pulled you closer.
What I didn't realize at the time, my hands occupied with feeling the skin beneath my fingertips, my mouth engaged with yours, that your hands were busy as well. It was only when I felt your hand brush against my now bare ass that I knew you had pulled the underwear down. There was no way no to notice those hands of yours grabbing and stroking my near-fully erect member. Your glance at it, not to mention that small chuckle escaping your lips, told me to be in your control for just a moment longer. That's why I waited to proceed until we were next to the bed.
You sat and simultaneously slipped off your hose and panties. They were not going to be necessary from this point forward. I, again doing my best imitation of a circus acrobat/clown, hopped on alternating feet to get my own socks off not wishing to be cliché in the scene that followed. You were the starting point next.
Yes, I realized that you wished to do otherwise at that point but my hunger was too great. That is why I loomed over you as you sat there and encouraged you to lie back – you feet still on the floor. I wanted other tastes and my desires became a bit selfish. The heat building all too rapidly now I tasted each of your breasts as I leaned over you. You, propped on your elbows watching as I nipped at the ends of each of them. Kissed them and then leading with my lips, kissed down your body to the top of your mound.
Perhaps it was a bit too subservient in posture but you didn't seem to mind, when I knelt in front of you. More correctly in front of your shins since they were still vertical while the rest of you relatively horizontal. Regardless of subservience, it was my desire to spread your knees. It was my desire to run both my hands up your inner thighs simultaneously. It was a natural act to allow those hands to diverge when they reached the creases at the top where your hips are met. One continuing further up you as you watched from your propped position. The other going laterally and to your visibly wet pussy.
