I admit I tried something a little different here. The theme is the same but the style just came to me as I was writing. I hope you readers like it and welcome your comments, critique and suggestions.
I looked down at his expectant face as he held the delicate garment open, waiting for me to step into it.
His deep brown face smiled up in encouragement. He was trying to free me of my fears. My fears and more. I appreciated him for that.
Since we first met two days prior Mr. Jefferson had my comfort in mind. When I first bumped into him on the crowded street and nearly fell, it was he who caught me just before I hit the sidewalk.
It was Mr. J who had bent down to retrieve my bag and it was he who brushed my long hair out of my eyes.
It was his hand on the back of my head, holding me tenderly, asking if I was okay. He towered over me by 6 or 7 inches. His broad chest had to be a size 44 at least. And from what I could tell, he was probably 20 - 25 years beyond the 18 sheltered years I'd lived
It was Mr. J who placed the straps of my bag over my shoulder and allowed his hand to slide down my thin arm until his hand held mine in his firm grasp.
"Are you okay,? he asked with genuine concern.
I nodded that I was and tried to apologize.
"Shhh baby. It was my fault entirely." His deep baritone voice both reassuring and disarming at the same time.
It was Mr. J who pulled me to him, his hand releasing mine and circling my waist until I felt his groin pressing against my chest, his hand holding my bottom.
I put my hands on his upper arms and looked up into his warm smile. His biceps were hard and large. His hand on my bottom covered one entire buttock which protruded out from under my narrow waist. My hips, like my bottom, by male standards were a bit too wide.
I told him I was fine but still he held me close. His body radiated masculinity. His demeanor was confident. Although I'd never been this close to another male, I let my arms leave his and find their way to his waist.
It was me who found comfort in his arms. Comfort and more. This giant of a man had awakened feelings in me I'd not known before now. He held me as I held him, unconflicted, unabashed, and unaware of what was happening around us.
On that crowded street, people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and social status passed us, as we became acquainted.
It was me who turned my head sideways and pressed my face against his chest. I felt safe in his embrace and hugged him back. This was not planned. I knew nothing of this large handsome gentleman. I was not gay either, nor did I think Mr. Jefferson was.
Us being together, getting closer was spontaneous if nothing else.
It was Mr. Jefferson whose large hands held my fat bottom, kneading it, pulling me tight.
It was my hands finding his taut buttocks. It was my little erection growing without thought or permission pressed against his thigh, also without thought or his permission.
It was me who felt his response grow against my chest, first rising to my right and then, with my help, standing at full attention, almost to my chin, covered, imprisoned snug in clothing.
It was Mr. Jefferson whose hand left my bottom to travel slowly up my spine.
It was me whose shivers went through me when his hand reached under my long tresses and gently forced my face to look up at his.
Thick soft lips enveloped mine, his hand holding my head to his. I felt his tongue leave his mouth and I welcomed it into mine.
I held his throbbing manhood in my small dainty hand. He held my bottom in his as we shared our first intimate moment on that crowded street oblivious to all around us.
It was Mr. J who knew I was inexperienced in the art of man on man love as he guided me into his small apartment and onto my knees.
He smiled patiently as my trembling hands fumbled with his belt and his zipper.
