Good morning, my angel.
You were so sweet, so shy the other night. Your eyes betrayed you, though.
The movie was okay. We both had things to say about different parts. We liked it, but we saw flaws. Like so many other things. And on the way home, you ranted about it. It was so cute. You were up on a soapbox, telling me what you didn't like about it, and I watched you, amused, and impressed, by your passion. Was this nervousness? Were you worried about what was coming?
We walked home to your apartment from the theater, and you held my hand, and listened to me, and talked to me. I teased you, gently, with my words. I kissed you hungrily when you apologized to me for ranting. I was ready to take you, and you were ready to be taken. I could feel the hunger in your touch, in the way you held me when I kissed you.
Then we were at your apartment. Your breathing quickened, catching in your throat. I watched your pulse race as I touched your face, gently stroking my fingers across your skin. Your eyes closed, and you let the feeling wash over you. I kissed you, and felt you struggle against your feelings.
"I don't think I'm ready for this", you told me.
"Ready for what, angel? Sex, or ..." I paused, letting your imagination fill in the details.
You bit your lip before answering. "I don't think I'm ready for sex. I'm sorry."
"That's okay, angel. I can wait. I want you to be sure, I want you to be ready, and I want you to enjoy it." I told you. I was serene. I knew you wanted me. I knew you wanted all that I could offer. The gentle touch, the kisses, and everything else I'd been talking to you about on the phone for the past while. I could wait until you were ready. I could wait till you were sure.
But you didn't want to wait. You were disappointed in yourself. So I stayed, and we cuddled and kissed, and talked. And all the while, I kept touching you - here, there, under there. As we cuddled and talked, you relaxed. You started touching me back. Touching my chest, touching my face. Touching my leg. When you touched my thigh, I knew you were ready.
"Angel" I said to you. You turned to face me. "Would you like to touch me? Would you like to feel my cock in your hand?" Instantly, your eyes dropped. You pressed your face against my shoulder.
"Yes", you replied, in a small voice.
"Say please, angel", I told you, chiding you gently for not asking properly.
"Yes please, sir" you replied, again in a small voice.
I took your hand, and placed it on my hardening cock. You stroked it through the material of my jeans, and I could hear the breath catch in your throat.
"Oh, it feels so hard", you told me, stroking the member gently. I could feel your fingers probing gently, pushing against the cock.
"It's not hard yet - it's only three quarters hard" I told you, stroking your neck. Quickly your eyes looked at mine, and I nodded, confirming what I'd said. You looked down again, shy or ashamed. I was delighted. I lifted your chin, and kissed you possessively on your mouth. "And it's hard because of you", I told you. At that point, the look in your eyes told me you were approaching the point of no return.
You gasped when I gently stroked your breasts. My fingers traced patterns on your skin, so lightly, but I could see the effect they were having. I could see your eyes close, through your hair. You hid behind your hair, but I could see you give up control to me. A thrill ran through me.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you angel?" I asked, growling your name a little bit. You hesitated, as your hand stroked my now fully hard cock. Then you gave a quick nod, like you were either ashamed of enjoying my attentions, or ashamed of what else you wanted me to do to you.
"It makes you feel all wet and squirmy, doesn't it, angel", I asked you. You nodded again, and buried your face in my shoulder. But your hand kept stroking my cock, and your legs were tightly closed together. You looked like a woman trying to keep control of herself, afraid of embarassing yourself. I gently stroked your nipple, through the material of your shirt.
"Open your legs for me, angel" I told you. You looked into my eyes, pleading silently for me to not make you do this. Pleading with me to keep making you do this. Caught in the contradiction, naked lust burning there along side shame. "Open your legs, now, angel" I repeated, pointedly looking at them.
Hesitantly, slowly, you spread your legs apart. Reluctantly, you opened yourself to me, opened your most private self to me. My hand reached down, and your eyes followed, as I stroked the inside of your thigh, from knee to crotch. Your eyes closed again, as I pushed my fingers against your pussy, through your pants. I could feel the heat there. I was sure that you were soaked. And still, you held my cock in your hand, like a woman in a dream. Up and down, you stroked. Squeezing the shaft, gently. Tracing the head of it through my pants.
"Would you like to feel it in your hand, angel? Would you like to feel its heat, its hardness?", I asked you. And with my words, I pushed against your pussy, hard.
Gasping, you answered me. "Oh yes"
"Ask me nicely, angel", I told you.
"Yes, sir. May I please hold your cock in my hands, sir?"
"Good girl" I answered you, and you shuddered a little in pleasure. There was a glow to your face now. You were giving in to your lust, giving in to the attraction you felt, the first time I walked in to the coffee shop to meet you. I had taken control, and you revelled in it. You closed your legs and whimpered a little as I undid my pants and took out my now hard cock.
"Open those legs, angel" I commanded you. You spread them again, whimpering, and reached for my cock, wrapping your hand around it. I could feel the cool of your fingers against its heat, felt your hesitation. I reached down, and wrapped my hand around yours, squeezing your hand around it firmly. You took the hint, and your grip grew firmer.
You were mine.
posted at 12:04 PM ::
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