Too Good to Be True (mf)

I knew she was too pretty to be real. I knew that waiting for her to join me for lunch was an exercise in boundless optimism. I knew that she would end up flaking or that I would get one of those scammer texts asking for money for a babysitter or a car repair. Or she would turn out to look a lot different from her pictures. Meeting someone online was filled with such perils. And she was a lot younger than me. And did I mention really pretty? And she seemed really nice too.

So I was there, hoping but realistically prepared for whatever might happen.

Then she walked into the restaurant. Young and blonde with an hourglass figure. I recognized her at once -- she was even prettier in person. And the way she smiled when she saw me made her even prettier. She walked down the narrow passage to the booth I was now standing next to and her walk made me think about all the things we could do together. Even now, years later, I still smile thinking of seeing her that first time.

We hugged briefly and I think even kissed each other on the cheek before sitting down in the booth. And then we had one of those first dates you dream about -- where conversation flows and the food is delicious and the wine is amazing and you can feel the spark between the two of you. Even the server felt her electricity and flirted with her on her frequent trips to the table. I'm sure that she wondered what on earth such a beautiful girl was doing having lunch with an older man.

The wine did it's magic and we got flirtier as the meal was ending. There was discussion of what she liked -- nothing too extreme -- and then she led me around to talk about what I liked. I kept a soft focus on this discussion because of where we were and the fact that we had just met -- but I did mention in there how I liked to be in control in sexual situations and also how I enjoyed dirty talk.

Then she asked me for an example.

What could I do? I made sure that she really wanted to hear it and then leaned across the table towards her and said in a low voice how I was going to run my hands all over her body until she thought she would go crazy from needed to be touched where she ached the most -- and that I would make her ask me to touch her there. That I would show her how to be a good girl for me and how to please me and that when she was close to finishing she would have to beg me to be allowed.

Naturally, as with all talk of this kind, I watched her for her reactions and emphasized the things that seemed to be what spoke to her. And whatever it was really did speak to her. Because she reached and took my hand and told me that she needed me now. I asked if she wanted to go back to my car and she nodded.

We walked through the busy parking lot over to my car, her hand on my arm, and decided to get into the back seat together rather than the front. I had a smaller car with tinted windows so once inside we had a little privacy.

That was when she grabbed me and started kissing me. Frantically. Hungrily. Like she had been barely in control and was now letting herself get what she wanted. Her hands were all over me and her tongue and mouth demanded my own passion. And I had plenty of desire of my own for this insanely hot young woman. My hands moved on their own to start touching her and each new place seemed to pull a moan of approval from her.

I soon found that she liked -- loved -- this out of control feeling. She wanted to feel my desire like that. She wanted me to grab her -- nothing gentle. When I palmed and gently squeezed one of her breasts she put her own hand over mine and squeezed harder. I got the message. My hand wandered while we kissed and pulled her blouse and bra out of the way to touch her skin underneath. Her nipple was hard when I rubbed my palm on it and her moan told me her approval.

I briefly wondered if someone walking through the parking lot could hear her. Then I banished that thought as I bent over to lick and suck her nipple. My hand meanwhile moved between her legs to cup her there so she could grind on it.

She was wearing tight jeans and I don't remember if she started the process of pulling them off or if I did. We were in one of those fugue states that you can get into during sex where it felt like you were in whitewater rapids and that they were taking you both along without any real decisions.

I did make her ask me to finger her, and I did make her say it several times, each time a little dirtier. First she asked me simply to touch her. Then to touch her wet pussy. Then to finger her wet pussy. Then to finger her slutty little wet pussy. I relented then and started using my fingers. She was soaked. So wet. So fucking wet.

The first time she came was from me stroking her clit. I did make her beg me to orgasm before telling her to come for me. After that the rapids took us again because once my fingers were inside her she was completely wild. We kissed while I moved my fingers inside her and she came over and over again. And just when I thought she had enough she would look at me with this wild look in her eye and start fucking my fingers again. I lost count of how many times she came. Twenty maybe? It was intense and made more so by her hands wanting to scratch me and her teeth at times biting my shoulder though my shirt.

It was so primal that I forgot thinking about my own pleasure. I wanted to see how much she would ask for from me -- wondered how many times she could barrel over that cliff of pleasure. Finally she seemed done. We kissed a little more and she talked about how intense it was for her. How she squirted all over my car seat. I thought she had but the angle made it tough to be sure. She tried then to start touching me and wanted to give me head, but I was happy enough just enjoying the glow of her pleasure.

We noticed then that we had somehow fogged up the inside of my car windows. That made us laugh and gave us a transition to let her start putting her clothing back together. Once out of the car we hugged and promised to see each other again. That is another tale.