[Continued from Dick Cramden's "First Date."]

With my hands I started to rub and massage your legs, one at a time.  Feeling your left calf, then your right.  Feeling your right thigh, then your left.  My hand stopped, palm resting on your upper left thigh, just below your sweet, sweet pussy.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear it pounding in my ears.

Would you be as wet as I was hard?  As I slid my hand up slowly, the edge of my index finger started to rub up against your swollen labia.  They felt hot.  Your eyes closed as my finger split them and slid up between them.  To my delight you were wet.  Very wet.

Slowly I slid my finger back and forth, just along the edges of your lips, not putting pressure to enter your vagina.  Not yet.  A soft moan escaped your lips.  That encouraged me to continue.  I continued my slow stroking of your pussy as my finger became coated with your excitement.  It seemed with every stroke your pussy was getting wetter and wetter.

In my mind I wanted nothing more than to rip off my clothes, push you back onto the bed and plunge my hard and hungry cock deep into your sweet hole and feel you all around me.

I reminded myself that there would be time enough for that.  Later.

I slowly pulled my finger back from between your lips, and gave your engorged and slick clit a quick swirl before my finger retreated entirely.  Your knees almost buckled as you moaned again, a little more loudly.

I stood up, facing you, and looked into your sweet candle-illuminated face.  I stuck my finger into my mouth and licked your juices from it.  Your juices only fed my desire.  I pulled my finger from my mouth and slowly pushed it into yours.  You sucked on it, and of course I imagined my cock there in my finger’s place.  I reminded myself there would be time enough for that, too.  Later.

I lowered my head to your breast.  I kissed and licked and nibbled gently all around one breast as my hand cupped and fondled the other.  Seconds turned to minutes as I fondled, kneaded, kissed, sucked all around your wonderful tits … never touching your erect nipples.  As I stood up I took each nipple gently between a thumb and forefinger.  Then I began to squeeze them.  To rotate them slightly.  I applied a little more pressure with each passing second, careful not to cross the threshold into pain.

I looked into your eyes and said, “I am going to pull the bedspread off the bed.  And after I do, I want you to lie back.  Arms outstretched.  Legs open.  Comfortable.  And after you are comfortable, don’t move.”

I pulled you by your nipples closer to me which caused you to gasp just a little.  I caught your open mouth with mine and our tongues dance for just a moment.  Then I let go and moved away.

Neatly I folded the bedspread, as I peeled it off the bed.  As it hit the floor, you felt it brush up against the back of your ankles.

I helped you step back.  Out from the panties which were still around your feet.  Over the bedspread.  Onto the bed.  The bed.

Your ass found its spot, right in the middle of the large bed.  Dutifully, you spread your legs and stretched out your arms.  The warm candlelight cast your skin in an alabaster glow.  Lying between the two candles, you looked like my personal altar of sex.  Which that night, is what you were.

As I left the room, I looked back over my shoulder and said, “Don’t move.”

Seconds turn to minutes.

[To be continued ….]

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