I tried to joke, brush it off. "Not yet? Well that's good. Bit of a public place."
"Oh. My mistake. I thought you might be about to cum. You know, what with having been hard ever since we left Costa." She was so matter of fact. So straight to the point.
She shifted round on the bench, folding her left leg, her shin up against my right thigh, her right foot on the ground, and leaned in to me, putting her hand back on my belly. I took in her flat, washboard stomach, the curve of her thighs, her hips, her delicate, narrow waist. My cock strained, longing for her touch again, for the delicate tracery of her fingertips slipping over its swollen, engorged, desperate head.
"I suppose," she said, "In that case," she slipped her hand under my T shirt, and started playing with my belly button again, "If you're not about to cum," she crawled her hand down towards my belt buckle again, "Then I can safely put my hand back here."
And her whole hand was in my jeans again, her palm sliding down over the front of my manhood's head, the length of its hardened shaft, her fingertips teasing my balls.
"Oh, oh FUCK... Eden..."
She smirked, staring into my eyes. "Close?"
I struggled to control myself, teetering right on the edge, feeling my orgasm approaching. "Oh, oh, oh..."
Still grinning, still holding eye contact, she pulled her hand swiftly out. My hips bucked involuntarily as a wave of pleasure swept out from my cock head. I was so, so close.
She held my gaze and her expression changed in a moment, from smiling warmly to absolute sternness, brooking no argument.
"Do. Not. Cum."
"Oh, damn. Eden..." But I didn't. Again, I have no idea how, but I didn't cum.
I sat there gasping, entirely focused on control. I was so close, but really wanted not to cum.
For a start, we were sitting in the park and while there was no one anywhere near, it still wasn't the exactly best place for passion.
Secondly, I'd been imagining all kinds of scenarios with Eden for weeks now and this evening looked to have the potential for a very satisfactory outcome,
Thirdly, she'd had her hand on my cock twice in the last few minutes and both times it had felt unbelievably good. I really, really wanted more - lots more - of that.
We sat for some time, me gasping, her looking pleased with herself, while my arousal gradually ebbed, my erection even, finally softening slightly. She leaned back in the bench next to me, for all the world apparently simply enjoying the evening sunshine with a friend.
She seemed to be able to gauge my arousal subsiding, or maybe she could simply see the bulge in my jeans abating, because after a while she leaned over, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and asked, "Better? OK to walk on now?"
"Uh... Yeah," I said, my head still full of the warm caress of her hands on me, my cock still ready to harden again with even minimal provocation. "Scuse me a moment," I said, turning slightly away - why, I have no idea. I reached down into my jeans, pulled my foreskin back up, and adjust my manhood so it wouldn't rub so pleasurably as we walked back to her flat.
She giggled. "I could have helped with that."
We walked on to her place, which was up some stairs above a little cafe. I briefly considered a joke about eating out.
Eden's flat was modest but very pleasant. The internal door off the shared landing opened into a living room and kitchen combo, with door off it into a small hallway from which two further doors opened. I guessed one led to her bedroom and the other to the bathroom.
"Grab a seat. Cold drink? I've got orange juice, or a beer?" Eden offered.
"Oh, yeah, juice please," I said. I was really thirsty. While she got the drinks, I checked out the room. I was sitting on a leather sofa facing a TV. There was a matching armchair to my right and a small Indian looking table in ornate, dark wood on my left.
On the walls were three monochrome prints of exceptionally attractive women, two wearing very little, one nothing at all apart from a chainmail belt slung loose, angled across her hips. All three sported detailed tattoos, almost fine art in their style.
"Lovely place" I said, entirely honestly, as she brought the drinks over. But she didn't sit down, instead throwing her head back and gulping her juice in one go. I got a brief but very clear view up her little spaghetti crop top as it rode up. It was so brief that I struggled to decide whether to focus on her perfect abs, flexed by her movement, or the undersides of her breasts as they flashed, for an instant, fully into view.
I hadn't come to a satisfactory conclusion before the show was over and she put down her glass, turned and strode off through the door into the little hallway, calling out, "I'm taking a shower. You can have one when I'm done." With that, she opened one of the two doors from the hallway and disappeared through it, closing it behind her.
I watched her go. Oh, did I watch her go. Those slender, athletic legs, so beautifully displayed by her perfectly fitting leggings. That cute, firm, round little backside, emphasised by the low waistband of her leggings, rocking back and forth as she walked. The lithe, toned arch of her back, naked but for the cascade of blonde hair tumbling down it, almost all the way to that work-of-art arse, and those long, athletic arms. I sipped my OJ, slightly dazed. She was in control. She knew it. I knew it. And I liked it.
I heard the shower start up. From the sound it was the sort with a built in pump to deliver a high pressure. It occurred to me she must be stripping off, peeling down her leggings, pulling her tiny top over her head, her breasts jiggling as they emerged, and, completely, gloriously naked, stepping into the flow.
I imagined the spray hitting those perfect breasts and wondered again exactly what they looked like - and how they would feel, their soft warmth in my hands. I heard the tone of the pump shift as she adjusted the shower head to get the right spray pattern.
I drained my drink and waited for her to finish, wondering about her comment, "You can have one when I'm done". It was the end of a warm day, but I was sure I didn't smell bad enough for her to tell me to take a shower. Maybe she planned to join me in there. I was starting to harden again.
