I watched him shaving his face in the mirror. Watching a man shave always captivated me. Shaving was quintessentially male, which made it arousing in itself. It was almost pity I felt for them; men having to shave every day, because their raging testosterone caused them this characteristic; this...affliction, of facial hair. Looking at him shave was like watching a poor thing just riddled with rampant manliness. In effect it made me feel just so much more feminine in contrast. I felt my femininity come to the forefront of my mind, when I watched a man shave.
His name was Ian. We had met on the internet, through a dating site. We had the usual first date coffee meet-up, and we easily fell into conversation. I could tell moments after he walked in that I would fuck this man. He was a police officer, of all things, and worked swing shift. He was far too young for me, but he seemed perfectly willing to meet me. I knew perfectly well there wasn't going to be a relationship; he was 31 and I was, well, older than 30. The fact that he worked swing shift was the reason I found myself at his house in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, as I had that day off from work. It was the second time we laid eyes on each other since the coffee date.
He let me in his house while he was finishing up shaving. "I wanted to have a nice, smooth face for you," he said while looking me right in the eyes. He had on jeans but no shirt, and I could see for the first time that he had a tattoo around his bicep. It was a vine with tiny leaves sprouting off from it. I wasn't a fan of tattoos but I suddenly couldn't imagine him without it.
"How do you stay so fit?" I asked him, watching him tip his chin up and drag the razor up his neck, around his Adams' appleβanother very male thing I loved to notice on a man.
"A lot of push-ups," he said. That would explain the biceps and shoulders, I thought. "We have sort of a push-up competition going on at the station right now."
"Let me see you do some," I said. He splashed his face clean with water, toweled off, grabbed my hand and took me to his bedroom. "Here's a kind of push-up we don't do at the station, but it's really, really good for you."
He put his arm around my waist and rolled me onto his king sized bed. I envied his big bed immediately, as I only had a lonesome twin bed. My ex took the big bed when he moved across the country to take a great new job and decided to never come back. I flung my arms above my head, enjoying the very large expanse of bed I could fully stretch out on.
I found myself on my back, laying under him, and he was holding himself up above me in push-up formation. "How many push-ups do you think I can do?" he asked with a lift of one eyebrow.
"I'm going to say about three," I teased. "This bed is awfully soft for push-ups."
"Oh, no. I can do lots, LOTS more than that," he said, and slowly lowered himself to within two inches of my body. Our noses were nearly touching, and I stared into his blue eyes. His lips were curvy and my tongue darted out to touch them, but I was thwarted.
"One!" he said, as he pushed his body back off from mine. I glanced over and saw his bicep flex as he effortlessly held himself above me. Then he slowly lowered his body back down to within an inch of mine again, except this time he kissed me. I tipped my chin up to meet his lips eagerly. The kiss inflamed me, but it was short-lived.
"Two!" he said, as he pushed up again. I laughed. I reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him towards me. "Hey, not fair!" he said, and his arms gave way and he lowered himself onto me. "This is an interesting second date," I said, with him on top of me now.
The kisses started up frantic right away. The push-up game was decidedly over and now our lips met as if we were suddenly broken free from some kind of tether. Right away the kisses were deep ones. His arms slid under my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. His curvy lips were just as I had imagined when I first stared at them on our coffee date: strong and insistent. My tongue went out and briefly touched his top, curvy lip. I wanted to feel along it, feel its outline. He let me do that for just a moment, then kissed me deeply again.
My legs weakened and fell apart, and I could feel the weight of his lower body pressing onto mine now. It was a wonderful feeling, letting him between my legs. I could feel his long cock pressing on my mound, and I felt a thrill knowing what was in there; what was in store for me; what he would soon show me.