First Date

 At your door,
When it is time for that first kiss,
I will make it,
Sweet,
Tender,
Touching.

Something you,
And I,
Will always,
Have as a,
Special memory.

I’ll hint that it is coming,
One hand will tilt your face up,
The other will brush your hair back from your cheek.

I will look delicately into your eyes,
While my hands caress from your chin and cheek,
Around your shoulders,
To enfold you in my arms.

I won’t say a word,
Talking about it,
Ruins the mood.

Rather,
I will ask you,
For your permission,
With my actions.

I will hug you close to me,
So that your chest is against mine,
Your hips touching mine.

At that moment you will answer my request for permission,
By stretching up on your toes,
Like the ballet dancer you are,
So that with a slight tip of my face towards yours,
Our lips will met.

No tongue,
No nibbling,
No bruised lips,
Not this first time.

Just our lips,
Sharing a tasting of each other,
For the first time.

When breathlessly our lips part,
While still holding you against me,
I will smile and that smile,
Will ask,
If you would like another.

It will be your hands,
One on the back of my head,
The other around my neck,
That will answer,
By pulling us together a second time.

This time there will be,
A touching of tongues,
A more intimate sharing,
With and of each other.

It will be my body,
With one of my hands on your back,
And the other just above your waist,
Holding you tightly against me,
That will ask you for a third kiss.

It will be your body,
With your leg sliding up the outside of my leg,
Wrapping around my hips,
That will answer back to me.

This much longer kiss,
Will,
With open mouths,
And tasting tongues,
Both ask and answer,
Much,
About what we feel,
What we mean,
To each other.

As that third kiss ends,
Without a word,
Your hand will take mine,
And pull me in your door.

 I ask you to
Have coffee with me.

But what I really want - - -

I want my hands,
One on each side of your face,
Pulling your face to mine.

I want to,
Press my lips against your lips,
My tongue to touch yours.

I want my hands to,
Slide down your neck,
Your shoulders,
Your arms,
To wrap them around,
Your body.

I want to pull,
Your breast against my chest,
Your nipples against mine,
So that I can feel them,
Aroused against me,
As I hold you in my arms.

I want,
Your thighs,
Tight against mine;
My pelvis,
Pressing against yours.

I want you to rise,
On your toes,
Straining against me,
Holding your lips,
Against mine.

I want to hear your breathing,
Quicken,
Your breathe soft against my cheek,
As my lips kiss your ear.

I want the taste of your scent,
In my nose,
Touching my tongue,
As I kiss your neck.

I want the whisper of your voice,
Asking me,
For more,
Promising me more.

I want all of you.

But,
Instead,
I ask you to coffee.

Over salad,
She smiled,
And,
Said,
"I plan to tease".

With soup,
She smiled,
And,
Squeezed,
Her breasts,
Together,
Emphasizing,
Her cleavage.

As the main course arrived,
Her cleavage,
Expanded,
Showing,
The edge of one nipple,
And the whole of the other.

With the last bite of steak,
She left to powder her nose,
Returning to bend,
Over my shoulder,
Push her hand into my lap,
Whisper in my ear,
"Here are my panties".

While eating desert,
She played,
With her fork,
In and out,
Of her mouth,
Sucking it,
Licking it clean.

Sipping her coffee,
She blew across her cup,
Tasted it,
On her tongue,
Swirled it,
In her mouth,
And,
Said,
"I like it,
Hot".

I called,
The waiter,
And,
Ask,
For the check.