Vanilla Cream

When Cinda and I started emailing a year or so ago, I never thought we'd actually meet. I mean, there she was, this hot, sexy redhead with a body crying out to be fondled, and the most deliciously dirty mind I've ever encountered, and here I am an average (though imaginative, I admit) guy with only my lusty thoughts to propel me through life. If not for my erotic mind, I'd be just another average guy lumbering through life with looks that have never made a single head turn. So, who'd have thought that this ravishing redhead with the shaved pussy and a penchant for leaving her undies at home would ever even consider letting me anywhere close to that hairless treasure?

Well, I must have a truly generous guardian angel or I stepped in exactly the right guano at some point in my life, because here I am on my way to meeting the hottest babe this side of Sex and the City. I've had a hardon for the last seven hours just thinking about all the things we've talked about in our emails. If she's even one tenth as hot as she says she is, I'm literally a dead man. But it'll be a death most gladly welcomed.

Thank God we waited for summer, because even though I'm sure any kind of sex with Cinda would be intense no matter what the season, for fantasy's sake summer just works out much better. I wouldn't want that naked little hairless coochie to get all cold and uncomfortable until I could get there to warm it up.

So, here I find myself walking toward her favorite little coffee shop, The Coffee Nook (even the name sounds like "nookie"), sweating and trying to flatten out the bulge in my shorts. I'm nervous as hell, but my hormones are keeping me hard as titanium in spite of the fear.

I turn the corner, and two buildings down on the right is the Nook, it's cute little patio area all bright with intimate tables and shading umbrellas. People are sitting around, sipping their favorite flavors of java and chatting away pleasantly. It's cute...pleasing. And then my heart stops, and my cock throbs. There she is. Seated way back in the corner, her red hair flowing down her shoulders, is the woman I've come to know as Sexy Cinda - The Shaved Goddess....or....I chuckle wickedly to myself....The Pantiless Princess.

She sits there nonchalantly sipping her coffee, her bare feet comfortably up on the chair opposite her, her high heeled "fuck me" slides nestled together under her chair. Her tight skirt shows a ton of thigh, and her low-cut blouse does the same for her ample cleavage. But what makes me stumble and propel myself awkwardly forward on rubbery legs is knowing what's under that tight skirt, and how I've already been given permission to introduce myself to it up close and personal. The two phrases are clanging around in my head like a pair of ringing Oriental gongs. "I don't wear panties," one says, swelling my confined manhood even more. And "I always keep my pussy shaved," screams the other, making that trapped cock howl in pain....and frustration.

Whereas Cinda has sent me a picture of herself, she's never seen one of me. She says looks aren't important when a guy is as sexy as me. Wow...I'm flattered. Hope I can live up to that billing. Anyway, I recognize her from her picture - and try not to slip in my own drool - but she doesn't recognize me....at first. But when she sees me looking at her as I approach, she looks at her watch. Right on time, her smile seems to say...and she knows it's me.

I'm just about hyperventilating when I walk up to the table. I know I must be blushing because my face feels warmer than the rest of my body.....well, except for one other place. I'm trying to find the words to say, and Cinda is patient. Then, my fevered brain remembers the fantasy.

"Hi," I say, "is this seat taken?" I point at the chair on which her feet are resting.

"Actually, yes," she replies, "as you can see my feet are on it."

"Well, I just thought a beautiful woman like yourself might like some stimulating...conversation."

"Tell you what," she says with a sly smile, "if you want to stimulate me, it'll take more than conversation to do it...though the conversation might get me started. There is one way I'll let you sit and talk with me, though."

"And what way is that?" I ask, my heart beating fast at what I know the response will be.

"You see those pretty feet on that chair? The ones with the gorgeous, painted toes?"

"Yes, I certainly do see them. Very nice, indeed."

"Well, you can sit there if you lift them up, put them on your lap, and rub them real nice for me while you sit there and give me some of that.....stimulating....conversation. Deal?"

I almost swallow my tongue whole as I say, "Deal."

"Good," she quips, "because if you want to sit with me you have no choice. It's rub or snub...your choice."

"I choose rub," I reply, and her smile makes me warm in all the right places.

"Well, then, sit.....and stimulate me."

I bend down and gently lift up her feet by the back of her calves just above her heels, slipping myself around the wicker arm of the chair and sitting down, my heart pounding and my brow beginning to sweat just a bit. As soon as I've seated myself, I lower her legs so that her feet nestle comfortably into my lap. I look into her lovely face and can't help but smile. I'm breathless to say the least.

My eyes begin to explore her red locks, mischievous eyes and succulent lips. It's while I'm admiring her moist, smiling lips that those lips begin to move, and Cinda's sultry voice intrudes on my visual cataloguing of her many charms.

"I'm waiting," the sex kitten voice says.

I look up to her impish eyes and see them twinkling with playful mirth. She gives me a look that says she's impatient, and her eyes move their gaze from my eyes to my hands to her feet. When I look at her dumbly, she says, "My feet, hon....my foot rub...remember?"

My face flushes crimson and I fumble for words, the only gems my hormone-coated brain can come up with being, "Oh...yeah....sorry." I wince as I realize how lame that must have sounded.

I begin kneading the sole of one foot with firm, experienced thumbs, but am again interrupted by that arousing voice. "Oh, hang on one sec," it says, "I want to show you something."

Before the last syllable of the word "something" even completely passes her lips, Cinda's other foot shoots up from my lap, and I immediately find five naked little toes about three inches from my chin. The movement is so quick and unexpected that I jump back, thinking my chin is about to be kicked. When the suddenness of the act has worn off, and my eyes can focus on her now stationary foot, I'm able to see that Cinda is bending her toes downward, showing me the tops of them.

"Sorry," she laughs, "didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to show you my toes...my toenails, actually. I wanted to show you that I painted them just for you. I remember you saying that burgundy was one of your favorite colors for nail polish, so I painted my toes burgundy just for you. You like?" She wiggles her toes under my chin for emphasis. I nearly drool on them.

"Uh........yeah," I try to sound cool, but I'm having trouble breathing, and my heart is pounding so hard I can't even hear my own words, "they look fantastic," I finally manage to expel from my overworking lungs. Without realizing I'm doing it, I grab that wiggling, close proximity foot by the heel and hold it in front of my face, continuing to admire the bright, shiny toes. I'm oblivious to everything else around me as I'm lost in the beauty of those playful digits. Only Cinda's giggle pulls me from my trance. I can feel the stupid grin on my face as I look up from her toes to her equally bright eyes.

"Well...seems you do like Cinda's pretty toes. I'll bet you're thinking, 'My...those are the most kissable toes I've ever seen,' ....right?"

I blush again as I reply, "Well, something like that...but a lot more explicit."

Cinda's mouth curls into a deliciously sly smile and she says, "All in good time, Smutty Mike. For now I'd like that soothing foot massage you promised."

Cinda's use of the online nickname I'd given myself many months ago, and which she's called me almost since the beginning, makes me smile. Ever since I began writing erotica years ago, I've come to think of myself in a humorous way as being "smutty", hence "Smutty Mike". It just seemed to fit. But when Cinda uses that name for me, I can almost hear the creaking as my pants stretch to accommodate my growing member.

Reluctantly, I lower her foot, my lips wanting to attack all five toes at once, my heart aching because that foot is moving away from my mouth, instead of toward it. Every neuron in my brain is screaming for me to change that direction at once, but that's not part of the immediate plan. As Cinda said, all in good time. When her foot is again occupying my lap, I return to massaging it's sister, which, I note with a sigh, has equally adorable toes.

As I'm kneading Cinda's soles and toes, and stroking her insteps and ankles, I slowly lose my embarrassed awkwardness. I become lost in the pleasure of finally touching Cinda - any part of her - and I find myself not only massaging her soft toes, but fondling them as well. She sips her coffee contentedly while my hands rub away the aches caused by her sexy, but somewhat painful, high heeled slides. Occasionally she sighs or compliments me on my foot rubbing prowess, but mostly she sits and smiles. She's enjoying herself, and I'm concentrating on making sure she continues to do so. Conversation consists mainly of small talk, and recounting fantasies we've told each other online, until my caressing of her feet begins to bring out the tease in her.

While my fingers are twisting, kneading and rotating the toes of her left foot, Cinda takes her right foot off my lap, bracing the sole on the front edge of my chair. Her leg now bent at the knee, she begins to slowly move it in a gentle arc from right to left, and then back again to the right. My fingers keep up their work on her left foot, but my eyes focus on her right knee as it swings pendulum like back and forth in front of me. Then, realizing what a dope I am, my eyes move from that hypnotizing knee upward. I know what Cinda's up to, finally, and I decide it's time to stop being a dunce and enjoy it as much as she is.

Cinda's bent leg, combined with her extremely short skirt, leads to an unveiling. As my eyes wander up her sizzling thigh, that white hot phrase once again engraves itself onto my poor, horny psyche. "I don't wear panties," sears again and again into what working gray matter I still have. Up...up...up my eyes travel, and then there it is. My heart skips way too many beats as even my eyes begin to sweat. And then those sweating eyeballs feast. They devour Cinda's shaved treasure. I don't notice Cinda has stopped the movement of her leg, halting its pendulum motion at the end of its outward swing....leaving her leg spread wide, affording me the best possible view of her smooth, beautiful, awe-inspiring flower. There's a hitch in my breathing as my lungs try to compensate for the sudden surge of adrenaline, brought on by the release of large amounts of testosterone.

My fingers are apparently on autopilot, because there is no way my mind can be guiding them. It's completely focused on the hottest, juiciest, most erection-inducing pussy I've ever seen. The smooth, silky skin of her mound perfectly highlights the pink, moist lips and the beckoning slit between them. My cock is yelling at me to rip off my pants and throw Cinda to the ground and fuck her senseless. My tongue is arguing that it would be much more fun to see if I could lick inside that pussy all the way up to her navel. I think both my cock and my tongue have perfectly valid arguments, and for the life of me I can't possibly decide which I want to do first. In the end, all I can do is stare, lick my lips, and groan at the pain in my crotch.

Cinda deliberately lets me enjoy the sight of her incredible pussy. She even slides forward in her chair several inches to give me a still better view. When she does I gasp, and once again nearly choke on my tongue. Only when she thinks someone else might be looking, or when a waiter or waitress wanders by, does Cinda close her legs. Aside from those thankfully few and far between interruptions, she thoroughly enjoys watching me stare up her skirt. And I know she's enjoying it, because her impressive sex is beginning to glisten like a rose covered in early morning dew.

Suddenly, Cinda's leg hides the view and her right foot once again plops into my lap. I almost cry at the loss of such an inspiring sight. And I surely would have whimpered if not for the untimely appearance of a waitress, brandishing a pen and notepad. I have trouble focusing on her, and my mind can't quite sort out the words coming from her lips. I stare at her like a moron. Even through my confusion, I can hear Cinda laughing, though in a distant, hazy background.

"Would you like some coffee, sir? Or maybe something else?" the dutiful waitress asks.

Oh, yes, I think.....I definitely want something else.....something wet and pink and tasty, and located between Cinda's devilish thighs. But, once I'm able to clear my throat and speak clearly, my mouth says instead, "Yes, actually, a coffee will be fine, thanks." But, Cinda leans forward in her chair, placing her hand on top of mine and staring into my eyes.

"We really don't have time, honey," she says, "we have to get going. There's a lot we have to do today. There's so much more I want you to see." The way she emphasized the word "more" made my crotch throb.

"So, that's a no, then?" the waitress asks.

"Yes," I say, forcing my lungs to push the air out of my mouth, "that's a no. But, thank you."

The waitress nods and ambles off, to continue her scurrying from table to table.

Cinda is still sitting forward in her chair, and has removed her legs from my lap. Her eyes are still burrowing into mine. They glint of pure sex...and it's all I can do not to dance with glee right there in front of everyone at The Coffee Nook. But I contain myself, and try feebly to think of all the hot things Cinda and I have talked about over the last year or so. While my body tingles with anticipation, my mind prepares itself for my imminent demise...for surely this sexual escapade is going to kill me.

Cinda begins to stand up, but then looks down at her shoes. She frowns, then looks at me and smiles.

"Mikey, would you please put my shoes on my pretty, dainty feet for me?" She bats her eyes at me and it's all I can do not to laugh out loud. Such a ham...but I'll gladly take the ham with such a delightfully erotic tease.

Saying nothing, but smiling from ear to ear, I bend down to get her shoes. As I prepare to put her first "fuck me" slide back onto her burgundy-painted foot, she moves her foot quickly and pushes her toes into my face, pressing them against my lips.

"Kiss," she says, "kiss my sexy toes. The first of many kisses from you," she teases.

I look around quickly to see if anyone's watching...but then I don't care if they are, and I kiss her toes boldly and adoringly, nuzzling my mustache into them. She wiggles her toes and giggles.

"Now the others," she says, immediately pressing five new toes into my mustache.

I laugh, but I kiss these new toes just as eagerly and just as openly. Now my cock is harder than ever, and I want to kiss my way up Cinda's sexy legs all the way to her bald, sweet pussy...and lick it for hours.

"Okay, you've passed your initiation," she chuckles, "so let's go somewhere more private. I have some nice things planned for you, smut boy...for us. Hot, dirty things. You'll be kissing much more than my toes, you can bet on that."

She lets me slip her shoes on for her, and I stand up. We look into each others eyes and know that something special is about to happen. We kiss, and she presses her chest against mine. I can feel her taut nipples through the material of her blouse. She leans closer and whispers to me, "I hope your tongue and dick are in good working order. I'm going to put them both to the test."

I take up the challenge, replying, "Bring it on...I'm going to wear out that gorgeous pussy of yours, and every other part of you."

She strokes under my chin with her index finger and smiles up at me, "We'll see.....we'll see."

Taking my hand in hers, she turns, guiding us out of The Coffee Nook's patio. As we walk away from our meeting place, I can't help but look down at her ass as she walks ahead of me. It's gorgeous...nicely rounded, bouncing along hypnotically as she walks. The kind of ass you want to grab and squeeze...and bite and kiss. My already straining penis grows harder still.....and I'm having a lot of trouble walking. I groan and sigh as Cinda pulls me along behind her, those glorious globes pounding their beat into my skull.

"Um....Cinda?" I ask, each of my eyeballs focused on a bouncing cheek, "Just exactly where is it we're going?"

"Well, sweet, sexy Mikey...I'm way too horny to even try to take you back to my place...and I knew I would be...so, I'm taking you to a nice little hotel I know. Nothing fancy, but clean and private. And when we get there, I have a surprise or two for you. You see, I booked the place several days ago, and I went there early this morning to get it ready for you....or rather, us. I'll drive you there, and then, after I've had my way with you, I'll bring you back to the Nook. Is that all okay with you?" No reply is given or expected. Cinda's plan is Cinda's plan...and that's all there is to it. I'd be certifiable to object to a single syllable of it anyway.

She says every word of it without even turning back to look at me. It seems sexy Cinda is in a hurry to play....and I wouldn't have it any other way. God, watching her hurry along in those fuck me slides with my eyes fondling her ass has me ready to cream in my pants. I hope this hotel is nearby.

Cinda drags me around yet another corner and rushes up to a car, which she opens without even letting go of my hand. Where she pulled the keys from I'll never know. I'm shoved into the passenger seat so fast that I didn't even see the make of the car. But, then, I confess my eyes have been occupied elsewhere anyway. I feel almost like a captive, the way I'm thrust into Cinda's car so abruptly. Apparently, Cinda's at least as horny as I am. And that makes me even hornier. If I survive today it'll be a miracle. And if I don't, I fully intend to take Cinda with me. Hmm....death by fornication....what a delicious thought.

Cinda is in the car in a flash, turning the key in the ignition and sliding her seat belt around her waist so fast I can't focus on either act. When the car purrs to life, she looks over at me and flashes a grin that has my cock throbbing double time. My eyes scan downward from that hedonistic smile to the heaving cleavage not too far beneath it. Cinda sees this and shakes her upper body back and forth, and leans toward me, to let me get an eyeful of her obviously braless chest. She smiles when I sigh and squirm.

Cinda pulls into traffic and I stare at every inch of her. I can't believe how lucky I am that this unbelievably erotic woman wants to have hot, sweaty sex with me....and not only that, but she wants to try all the things we've talked about in our emails. I realize that if we do even half of them, my cock and tongue will both have to be splinted before the day is through.

As I watch Cinda's breasts straining against her blouse, the nipples telling me quite plainly where they are, and I ogle the large expanse of uncovered thighs from knees almost to her hairless pussy, I grit my teeth with the strain of not jumping her right there in the car. It gets to be too much for me, and I slide toward her as far as I can on my seat. I lean over and reach out a groping hand. The needy fingers cup her right breast and fondle it ever so gently. I'm smiling like an idiot when she grins over at me.