We are sitting together at a booth, drink and nibbles in our reach. All the guys are looking at us because of the way in which we are looking at each other. They know that they are not invited to this little gathering.
You are dressed seductively for our first date, short black skirt, long black boots and loose shirt with the buttons just low enough to let everyone peek at your unclad breasts swaying with your body's every movement. You are so damn sexy, that I feel completely out of place. I was cautious, wearing a long hanky skirt, semi-fitted top that came off the shoulder and heeled sandals. Little did you know though, that I had not included underwear in my couture.
You look almost as nervous as me, and I am very surprised by that. You have courted me for so long, providing stimulation for many nights of self-pleasure and lingering thoughts. You place your hand over mine in reassurance for you or me? I smile to let you know that it is ok.
I put my shaking, left hand on your thigh and feel the softness, the smooth skin feeling so different from a man. And you smile, knowing now that you don't need to worry - I am in for this night. All my promises of 'letting go' and 'enjoying this time' is challenged, but not for long. I want you to show me, I want you to teach me, I want you to touch me. I want you.
The music is so loud that talking is not practical, but I don't feel much like talking right now anyway. I just want to play, begin my exploration. I relish in the feeling of your leg, it is dark in here and only the sober would know what is going on under the table, and there aren't many of them here tonight.
You open your legs slightly, your short skirt riding up your leg further and giving me access to what lies within. I hesitate; scared to death of starting something I don't know anything about. You see this and take my hand. Keeping it against your skin, you slide our hands up towards your sex. I laugh at the realization that you are not wearing any knickers either, and when quizzed, I tell you that we are more alike than she thinks. You take my middle finger and push it against your slippery folds, letting them engulf it and soaking it in your juices. You feel so different to my finger than I feel to my own touch. You are less full, your vaginal hood less puffy and this provides an enormous amount of surface area with which to play. And you are so smooth, completely void of hair and very slippery.
You lift my hand up to your mouth and suck on the wet finger. You are seducing me with your eyes, sucking on my finger and sending chills up my arm and down my spine. I can feel the heat rising already, and beads of sweat tickle the back of my neck. There is a look of complete desire in your eyes as you ask me if I would like a taste. I am almost paralyzed with insecurity, but there is an overwhelming desire for you, a lust that has built over many months of sexy emails.