It had only been three days since my reunion with Eleanor, but they had been three long and lust filled days. I had lost count of how many times I had touched myself while recalling our previous encounter. Eleanor and I had spent our time fornicating over text, teasing, keeping each other in a constant state of arousal until our next meeting.
It had only been three days, but I had accumulated quite a collection of porn on my phone, all of El. Every time she became aroused—which seemed like always—she would let me know it, with words, and with pictures. I of course would do the same.
I had photos of her at work, of her panties pulled down, glistening with cum below her desk, and photos of her breasts exposed above a bra that had been pulled to the side, taken in a mirror of a restroom of some fine restaurant.
I had a whole set of her at the gym. She had worn leggings without panties and she made sure I knew it. She took photos on the machines with the leggings pulled tight against her pussy, exposing the shape of her lips. There were others of her ass, her wonderful, perfect ass, barely covered by the elastic fabric, which clearly showed each cheek. There were photos of her with her hand on her pussy, pleasuring herself both above and under the fabric of the leggings.
I have photos of the developing wetness on her fingers. She loved to show me how wet she was, and I loved to see it. These were the photos that drove me wild and made me lick my lips with anticipation.
She had cum in that gym, in those leggings, and again she showed me in the last of the set. It was a point of view shot, taken while she sat on the faux leather bench of some exercise machine. It encompassed Eleanor's naked hips, her pussy and thighs, and her leggings that had been pulled down to her knees. Eleanor held the crotch of the leggings so that it faced the camera. It glistened with a thin, translucent but creamy, pussy-shaped patch of cum. Below the photo there was a caption:
"These are going to be yours. ;)"
It had only been three days, and we were meeting on the fourth. The striped thong she had given me on our reunion had rarely left my face. Its creamed gusset, that bore witness to Eleanor's arousal that day, had been sniffed, and sniffed, and though I tried to hold back to keep it as it was, licked. Still, these panties emanated with Eleanor's wonderful aroma. By the standards I had before our meeting, these panties were about as fresh as I would get, and yet here I was expecting a fresh, wet, pair—of leggings no less. It seemed that if my arousal had a limit, that I would reach it soon.
I'm not sure why we had waited three days. I'm sure we could have arranged something sooner, but neither of us spoke of it. Perhaps we did not want to seem desperate; it seemed like the polite thing to do—to wait. Perhaps we wanted to tease, to prolong the arousal, make the three days all a build up, as an extended foreplay, for when we finally met again. Whatever the case, the intervening days had offered a new sort of pleasure that was different from our in person meeting, and the fantasy had definitely made me want more.
It was the evening of that third day, I had just received El's last text from the gym, and I sat at home, hard, unable to sleep due to my arousal and anticipation. The image of her cum, resting on the crotch of her leggings was burned into my mind, and when it began to fade, I would look at it again to keep my memory fresh.
I sat there in my bed, thinking about it, with her panties held tightly against my nose, inhaling her scent, and remembering the softness of her skin, and the feel of her pussy on my face, wanting badly to bury myself in her again. I had held back from masturbating, to keep myself fresh for our meeting. Besides, no amount of fantastical cum could quench my arousal, which knew what was coming tomorrow.
We had set up a whole day. We were to meet at a Starbucks to get coffee in the morning, and discuss what we wanted to do. This would include our limits, fantasies, and anything we could thing of on a whim. From there we had planned a walk in the park, picnic included, and if we felt like it, a night together at my apartment.
We had not set this last part in stone due to conflicting schedules in the morning, along with a certain determination that it might not be necessary. It seemed to me, and I assume to her as well, that we were meeting basically just as friends who hung out when we felt like it—only one of our favorite activities to do together was have sex. If we happened to want to 'hang out' at night, we would, and if not, we wouldn't.
I drove to the Starbucks early. I always try to be punctual, I always end up being early. Eleanor was still a few minutes early, but later than myself. I had sat down with my coffee when she arrived. I got up to greet her with a kiss. I sprung to life when I held her, and felt her lips and tongue for the first time in three days. She breathed heavily against me, indicating she had sprung too. It was a kiss that was probably too intimate for some of the customer's at the shop, but neither of us cared.
"Hey," she smiled, looking longingly at me.
"Hi," I replied with a similar expression.
"Have you ordered yet?" She asked.
"Yeah, I'm just over here. I got us a table."
"Oh cool, I'll grab a coffee and be over."
She kissed me once more before standing in line, holding her wallet and keys in hand.
I sat down and admired her as she stood. She was indeed wearing the leggings from the picture. In the more public location of a (relatively) busy Starbucks, compared to the gym she was at last night, she wore them more modestly. The blatant cameltoe that she showed off in the pictures was gone, but the leggings still gave away the shape of her form.
Her legs still flowed beautifully from her calves to her thighs and into her round ass. And I knew she was not wearing anything underneath. I knew that she was wet. And I knew that she was getting those leggings wet, wetter. I found myself staring, losing myself in fantasies and admiration. She looked over and smiled a knowing smile.
Soon enough, she got her coffee and a small pastry and turned towards me. Holding her cup in one hand and the pastry in the other she nodded her head to the side, summoning me to follow her. Apparently she wanted to sit at a different table. I followed her, and her decision made immediate sense to me. Her table of choice was much more secluded, tucked around a corner beyond the main area, and I wondered why I hadn't chosen in myself.
I turned the corner find Eleanor leaning over the table with her ass protruding towards me. She had pulled the leggings up again so that they were taught against her ass. It was a quick tease, as she incorporated the movement into the act of setting her coffee down, but still enough to arouse my desires. I stood next to her and set my coffee down. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and quickly cupped her ass before sitting down.
The warmth and firm-softness brought back all of the memories of her touch that had been rooting around in my head for the past three days. Eleanor squeaked at the touch, and lightly pushed back against me before she took her seat opposite me.
She smiled as she sat down.
"So," she said, lightly hugging her coffee in her hands, "ready for a fun day?"
I chuckled, "yeah I am. I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait."
"Me either!" She replied, also trying to stifle a laugh. "Too much lotion and Kleenex?"
Again, I laughed at the joke, but responded sarcastically, "you have pictures!"
