My heart is racing as I cross the floor to where you are sitting at the bar. We have been Kiking for a few months and now, finally, we get to meet in the flesh.
You are more handsome in real life, your face more sculpted than in the photos you’ve shared. Turning around, you see me and smile, standing to greet me. With over a foot difference in our heights, you need to bend to kiss my cheek. A fraction of a second too late I realise you intend to kiss the other cheek too and we awkwardly almost meet lips. I feel my face glow with the rush of blood to my skin. I catch the scent of beer on your breath, mixed with tobacco.
“Hey you,” you say, pulling out the bar stool for me, then, “Or shall we sit in a booth?”
“A booth sounds good. And hey to you too!”
With your hand at the small of my back, you guide me to our seat and ask what I’d like to drink.
While you return to the bar I release the breath I have been holding.
You enquire about my journey as you set my wine in front of me and slide in to sit next to me.
Our thighs touch.
I cannot speak. Already I am wet and throbbing, feeling how solid your leg is against mine.
“You ok?” there is concern in your voice.
I mumble about needing the wine and take a large sip.
You stroke your beard, watching me, smiling at my nerves.
“Let’s start again. You look beautiful,” you say and reach out to stroke my cheek.
I can’t breathe!
I want you to kiss me, so badly.
I realise I’ve whispered it out loud and am about to try to explain when I feel your lips on mine, covering mine completely, your tongue teasing me. Your arm around the back of my neck, pulling me so close it is hard to catch my breath.
The kiss grows deeper, more passionate. I feel your hand in my hair, gripping it, my chest crushed against yours.
Your tongue toys with mine. You suck on my bottom lip, stretching it, before kissing me again.
I have never been kissed like this before.
I never want it to end.
“Fuuuuck,” you growl under your breath, breaking the kiss but keeping your forehead pressed to mine, “I want to get you naked right now and fuck you on this goddamned table.”
The heat between my legs flares, my pants are soaked through.
Reading my mind, your eyes meet mine and you ask, “Are you wet?” your voice deep and throaty.
Your hand sneaks under the table and up my inner thigh until you reach my underwear. Your fingers stroke the fabric.
You smile, “You really are wet!” pulling the crotch of my pants to one side, your callused finger finally meets my skin.
Foreheads still joined, breathing in each other’s air, you begin to strum on my clit rhythmically; expertly.
Our eyes locked as you tease me; fast, slow, fast, slow. My breathing grows more ragged.
“Are you close?” you ask.
I nod, unable to speak.
“Answer me. Are you close? Do you want to come?”
Swallowing hard, I reply, “Yes!”
Knowing I am about to reach my climax, you withdraw your hand and put your fingers between my lips, “Suck.”
I am confused, disorientated and frustrated beyond measure but I obey and lick my own juices from your fingers.
“You can come later,” you rise and take my hand.
We walk to the door and onto the street, where you hail a taxi, “Consider your training to have begun, kitten.”
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