I sit close to you, watching you intently in everything you do. I listen to you breathe, I watch your eyes skim the web-page, all I can do is concentrate on all that is you.
After conversing online for over three years, I have finally come to see you and have not been disappointed. I've loved you for so long. If only you could know how my body aches for yours.
I ask you questions about what you are doing . . . lots of questions. I have learned that the more interested I am in what you do, the more interested you are in being around me and talking to me.
I lean in closer, completely absorbed in your movements. Everything you do is beautiful, magical. I ask another question, you turn to answer it and your face is a fraction of an inch from mine. The moment is a bit tense at first, but you answer the question and we laugh to lighten the mood.
I move from my seat beside you and stand behind you. I watch what you are doing as I put my hands on your shoulders then start rubbing your back. You stop typing quite as quickly and, fearing that I may distract you, I pick a book up off of the floor and carry it to the bed with me.
I start skimming the pages, but stop when you sit on the bed next to where I am laying. I stick my tongue out at you and start flipping through the book once again. I'm not paying much attention to what the headers of the pages say, because I am contemplating the current situation. As it is still technically our first meeting, even though I have spent the last week with you, things are still a little tense, but I am unsure of how to relieve the tension.
I lay my head on your lap as I skim through the book to see if I can find anything worthwhile. What I notice is that the growing bulge in your pants seems to be pretty worthwhile. I look up at you and your face is a mixture of embarrassment and smiles.
I ask if you are comfortable and you nod unsurely. I rise up on my hands and face you at eye level. I scoot my body closer and take your shirt off and then gently push you down onto the bed.
I ask you if this is more comfortable, and you answer by pulling me down and pressing your lips softly against mine. It is an innocent kiss, just a brush of the lips practically, but the situation escalates when you reach and pull my shirt above my head.
We kiss again, more passionately this time, and it is apparent that I am hungry for your lips and body. I move my kisses down your chest and belly, all the while my bra-covered breasts are brushing against your bare skin. I reach the top of your pants and, as I unbutton them, you reach behind me and unclasp my bra, then tossing it across the room and onto the floor, somewhere near my shirt presumably.
As I pull your pants down, my now naked breasts brush against the elastic of your underwear, and my nipples harden with pleasure as the brush the bare skin above it. You unbutton my pants and I wiggle out of them, trying to keep my body as closely against yours as possible. As I remove your underwear, my large breasts brush against your largely growing erection, causing both my nipples and your penis to become even harder. You grab my breasts and roll my nipples in your fingers. I rub my panty-clad pussy on your knee, stimulating my clit even through the material. The more I grind against you, the more you tease my nipples.
