The First Date

He was on my doorstep promptly at six that night, with a small bouquet of blue, white and yellow flowers in his hand.

His masculine touch seemed a little odd with the delicate flowers in his earthy hands. I took them from him, and invited him inside.

“These are beautiful,” I said, smelling the lovely fragrance.

“You might want to put them in water,” he suggested. “Roses never last very long.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I said. I was in awe of him, but I didn’t know why. “Would you like some wine?”

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

I was quickly on my way to the kitchen for the flowers, the wine, and my own sanity. I had to find it before it ran away on me. When I finally returned, I sat down across from him and a prickly silence followed.

“You’re uncomfortable with me, why?” he finally asked, as I attentively watched him sip his wine.

His directness surprised me, but it was certainly a reasonable question. Obviously my discomfort showed. “I don’t know why, but you’re right, you do make me nervous.

“what bothers you?” he wondered.

“I don’t know. I’m not used to dating  . . . .” I couldn’t quite explain what I was feeling. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you out if it had.” We finished the wine quickly, he stood up, and reached down to grab my hand. “We’re going to the Crab House,” he announced. I breathed a sigh of relief as he led me out the door, glad to finally be getting this awkward date underway.



During dinner we talked about lots of other things that I don’t remember. I do remember how his eyes and smile bathed me in a sensuous cocoon. I think they left me hypnotized and unable to think, especially when there was a pause in the conversation. In the silence I felt self-conscious, the way he looked at me so earnestly. He took my hand once and fondled it lightly, so it felt as if he was making love to me through the sensitive nerve endings there.

By the time we finished our meal, the sexual heat swimming through me was so intense, I wondered how I could keep myself from going to bed with him that night.



At my door, He kissed me once, lingering a long time with his lips on mine. I felt his hand on my thigh, and I wanted to squirm against it, but I found myself moving away. “I’m not ready for this, yet.”

“No?” He dropped his hand and backed away, leaving me disappointed that he didn’t keep going.

“I don’t think so,” I answered, rather haltingly. I knew I was giving him mixed messages, but then my body and mind were giving me mixed messages too.

“I’d never push; you just looked interested,” he commented.

“I am, but this is a first date.”

He nodded as if he understood.

“How do I know if I can trust you?” I said, trying to justify my reasoning.

“You probably can’t,” he agreed with a whimsical grin.

I laughed. “You’re not helping me at all here.” If he’d just back away altogether, I wouldn’t have to make a choice, but he wasn’t doing that. His body standing so close to mine only made the choosing harder.

“What can I do to help?” he said lightly. “Promise you the sun, moon and stars?”

“I wouldn’t believe you if you did,” I said, amused by his wit.

“That’s good,” he said. “You know, you could go to bed with me on a lark, nothing serious, just for fun?” he suggested. He saw my puzzled expression, and gave me an understanding smile, taking my reluctance as a final “no”. “Okay, so, I’ll be going,” he said, with a smug knowing grin. “I can wait.” He leaned in to kiss me again, and I grabbed his hand.

“On second thought, why don’t you come in for a while?” I suggested.

I was making decisions rapidly, weighing evidence, considering possibilities, wondering what it would be like to screw him totally “on a lark.” No expectations, no strings, no worries, just good sex and nothing more. Maybe then, all this yearning for him would go away and I’d stop obsessing. I could stop thinking of him day and night with his hands inside my pants.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” raced through my head trying to stop me. But the wicked other half of me refused to make him stop. All that body heat and fire I’d been feeling all these days was suspended in his simple touch, waiting to be released.


The way he held my hands, I felt trapped, but I didn’t struggle to get free. He kissed my neck until he reached the top of my shirt, then he pulled it down so his lips could continue down my shoulder. Dropping my hands, he turned me around, letting his eyes hold me captive instead. I waited as he carefully unbuttoned my shirt, and pushed it away with his fingertips, so it fell softly to the floor. The lace teddy underneath was transparent enough for him to see my breasts. Eyeing them for some moments, I shivered under his attentive gaze, wondering what he thought of what he saw. When he bent down to kiss them and his hands began to fondle the two soft cushions of flesh, I relaxed, as if I’d somehow passed a test.

“You like it rough don’t you?” he asked me. As gentle as he was being, it seemed like a curious question, but he was obviously reading something in me he knew was there.

“Do I telegraph myself that well?” I asked, amazed by his insight.

“I know, I’m only attracted to women that like it nasty,” he said. There was a smirk on his lips as he said the word “nasty.” It made me jolt to think of what he might mean.

Pulling the teddy away altogether, he gazed down at my naked breasts for another breathtaking inspection. I’d never known a man who was so filled with obvious admiration for my body. Was he just this way with me, or was he like this with all his women? It was surprising that he was so attracted to me, when he could easily have most any woman.  What makes me so special? I was wondering to myself. But the wondering quickly ceased when my sexual desire rose too high to bother thinking anymore.

He seized my nipples and squeezed them lightly, then leaned in to kiss first one, then the other. His teeth nibbled the skin as if he might bite it, but he backed away and led me to my couch where he motioned me to sit.

“Put your hands behind you,” he purred to me softly. I took the instruction as another command.

It was hard to understand his power over me but it was nothing I could deny. Such control and so very gentle. I’m sure it was his dark eyes, the way they had me bewitched, as if he’d cast a spell around me—body and soul.

Kneeling in front of me, he parted my legs wide, though not so he could focus on my spread pussy, now so available for his inspection. Instead, he was diving for my breasts again. Cupping them in his hands, he feasted on them with his mouth, while I waited in this enforced repose, my hands behind me as though I was bound. He wanted nothing to obstruct his access to me. Acutely aware of his every touch, the breath from his lips, the skin to skin contact, every sensation seemed magnified because I couldn’t respond back to him.

My only reply to his artful play was some silly gibberish that escaped my lips, and a fountain of ohs and ahhhhs as I shuddered with each breath. He answered back, pursuing me with a fervor I’d never experienced from any man. My whole body seemed more connected to itself than ever before. What he did to my breasts and nipples, I felt between my legs and all the way down my thighs to my toes.

Taking each of my hands in one of his, he laid me against the couch and drew my wrists over my head where they were as bound as they would have been if he’d tied them with rope. I felt his fingers under my skirt, the touch of them so tender and yet able to spark such lightening shocks of desire I could feel my hips moving to meet him. My skirt quickly fluttered like a sail to the floor. And with my thighs parted wide, he lifted the heart of my sex to his mouth driving me to a quick sharp edge. I was lost somewhere in the sensations, thinking of nothing but how my body felt behind my closed eyes. When I opened them again, he was hovering over me, his expression at once savage and sweet. The feel of his erection pressing against the opening of my cunt was as savage and sweet as the look in his eyes. He moved inside without effort, my body welcoming him home as he thrust deep.

Silently, I screamed to touch him, to run my hands along his muscled chest, to feel the firmness of his thighs with my fingertips. But when I pulled them down to hold him close, he whispered quietly a stern, “No,”, and I was obliged to obey.

I’d never known anything to be quite so astonishing, being forced to feel every feeling and experience every sensation he brought out in me without giving one thing back but the look of desire on my face. This hard driving screw took me quickly toward a climax, my body suddenly jerking orgasmically as a wave of exacting jolts crashed through me. He massaged my interiors with his pulsing erection and the spasms began with that first wild wave and then continued on, swimming in endless blissful rhythms that I thought would never end.

I saw how Kurt’s face changed from fierce and savage to tenderly sweet the instant that I climaxed, and then how it contorted into a scowl as he tensed. With his finale going off inside me, the sound of his guttural groan vibrated through my body setting off another vibrant burst of sexual joy.

In the breathless exhaustion that comes at the end, Kurt collapsed against me and we lay together side by side. A tight fit on my small couch, it meant he had his arms around me holding me close. His hands were in my hair and his tongue nibbled at my neck so I almost laughed with the ticklish shivers.

“Can I lower my arms now?” I whispered.

He snickered and pulled them down himself for a moment massaging away the aching soreness.

“You were hoping for this, weren’t you?” he said looking at me with a smug grin on his face.

I grinned back. “You think I’d tell you?” I replied with a snicker of my own.

“I think you should,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“We just made love, shouldn’t we share secrets?”

“Oh, but it wasn’t a serious fuck, you said so,” I reminded him. “Just a lark, I think those were your very words?”

“And you believe me?” he said.

I sighed happily, even though this relationship confused me. “I don’t know what to believe,” I answered truthfully.

“Well, Jessie, I’m not the cad you think I am,” he said, pulling up. He was staring at me again with those dark-fired eyes looking down at me earnestly.

“Still, I hardly know you.”

“Ah, but you will,” he assured me.

He pulled away, and then off the couch altogether. Standing over me as he zipped his pants he looked down at the naked body he’d just screwed.

“And you’re leaving so soon?” I wondered, scared that this was exactly what he was going to do.

“No,” he said. “But I’ll have that glass of wine, that is if I’m staying the night.”

“Of course you’re spending the night.” I was hardly going to let him get away so soon. Popping up from the sofa, I pushed him back down. “Just let me change, and I’ll get the wine,” I told him happily as I tripped off to the bedroom to find my robe.