First Meeting 140

Authors Note: this is based on a real events that happened to me. I am perfectly happy with all that happened.

Today is the day we meet for the first time. It's the time when I get to put a face to the name, to the voice, the personality. I am nervous and excited, my panties slightly damp in anticipation. I hope he doesn't notice, as that would be extremely embarrassing.

We were to meet for a coffee and a chat, just a chance to get to know each other a bit better and see if we were compatible. We knew that our interests aligned, at least for the most part, but would there be an interest to move beyond. Only time would tell.

We chatted a bit, I was super nervous, sneaking glances at him when he was talking, or distracted. I had to keep taking deep breaths, calming my nerves. He definitely gave off a dominant air, not that I'd get down on my knees in public, but I could see myself submitting to him in the future. From my perspective, it was a go, once we negotiated some more details anyway.

"Hey, I could use a smoke, fancy coming to sit with me so we can chat some more?" He asks.

"Uh, sure," I answer cautiously, a knot of anxiety in my stomach.

We head to the car and I climb into the passenger seat. This goes against my instincts for such meetings, but he has given me no red flags, nothing that makes me object. I want to get to know him more, and sometimes getting a person on their own ground can help with that. For fuck sake if I can't trust him, then I shouldn't be thinking about playing with him realistically.

He turned the heat on in the car, "So let me see you then," he says off handedly.

I had hid myself under a bunch of layers due to the temperature outside, as well as a lack of confidence. "See me?" I replied.

"I want to see your body, and I can't with all that on," he replies, "Take your jumper off."

I did as I was bid, finding it a little awkward to remove in the confines of the car but doing so anyway.

"Why do you wear clothes that don't fit?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I ask, a little confused, but also sort of aware of what he meant. I mean the t-shirt was clearly at least a couple of sizes too big for my frame. I just liked to be able to hide, and who would want to see someone like me anyway.

"Well, you are hiding your frame, I thought you were much bigger than you actually are, you should stop hiding yourself and wear what actually fits you." His words hit a nerve; one I was sort of aware of but hadn't given too much consideration to. Maybe he was right; it was something I'd have to think on.

The questions continued about my physical attributes, my chest size and other such things. He also asked a bit about my interests which I tried my best to be honest about. I asked a few questions in return, and he talked about some of his interests, but I didn't dare get too personal yet.

I had leaned back with my eyes closed, taking a few minutes to calm my nervousness, taking deep breaths to slow my heart rate when I felt his hand on my chest. He was stroking my nipple which responded quickly. He then put his hand under my t-shirt, and into my bra, his fingers brushing the very sensitive flesh of my nipple. I bit my lip in surprise, shock, and arousal. I could also feel the burn of my cheeks from embarrassment. My body had responded without even consulting my brain.

As quickly as the hand had appeared it disappeared. "Strap in," he said, "We will go somewhere a little more private." It wasn't a question. It was a command.

~*~

The drive had been relatively short, but the result was somewhat more secluded than the car park we had been in previously. Both my nipples were rock hard and much to my own horror, my pussy was also quite wet.

"Now where were we?" He smiled, his hand returning to my nipples. I hadn't even put them back inside my bra, so they were still easily accessible to his wondering hands.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to allow him unfettered access. I should probably have objected, or maybe have got out when this started, but secretly I was loving it. I felt so degraded and humiliated, like an object for sale, being closely examined, but that really, really was turning me on.

"Put your hands down your pants," was the next instruction, "and tell me how wet you are." Again a statement not a question, an instruction, with the expectation of compliance.

I can feel the heat in my cheeks increasing as I obey, my hand slipping inside my trousers and panties, knowing already that I'm quite wet, my clit hard and aching. "I, uh, I'm a bit... er damp" I stutter nervously

"Pardon?" he asks.

I do a double take, wondering whether he really didn't hear me, before responding again, "I'm wet, Sir," my face burning an even brighter shade of pink in shame. I couldn't believe I was saying these things, never mind doing them with someone I just met.

"I want you to stroke your clit, and masturbate yourself,"

I am so awkward I can't even reply but I start to do as I'm told. I can feel myself getting wetter, especially as he is pulling hard on my nipples and twisting them. The pain is deliciously erotic, pushing me closer and closer to the edge, the humiliation of it all the icing on the cake.

"I'm close, Sir," I mutter, not sure what else to say.

"Do you want to cum?" he responds.

I stop for a moment, my body in overload, I bite my lip before responding, "Do you want me to, Sir?" I keep my eyes tightly shut, my face burning, feeling like an utter slut, exposed for who I truly am.

"Yes," comes the response.

I have never been one for masturbation but the whole situation is a bit more than I can handle and I feel myself falling over the edge, and feel my cum soaking into my panties and trousers, and my humiliation is complete. My nipples are so sore, and I'm soaked in my own juices.

How the hell did I get here?