I will never forget the first time we met in person. We’d been internet friends for quite some time and as these things do, a romance of sorts blossomed from the friendship. We decided that autumn to meet in person. To see if the long-distance chemistry we felt was real or contrived.
We chose a Saturday night, at a club he’d heard about from a friend but in a city neither of us lived in. We agreed to meet there for dinner and maybe some dancing, should the desire arise.
Oh how nervous I was. But so excited. I checked into my hotel and proceeded to shower and get ready for seeing him for the first time. I admit I dolled myself up as best I knew how, which isn’t exceptionally considering I don’t really wear makeup or even get dressed up ever. But he was special. I felt like I had waited my whole life just to meet him.
Since dancing was possibly on the table for tonight, I wore a flared out short skirt that flipped and twirled around my thighs in an enjoyable way. My tight black low-cut shirt wasn’t much to speak of but I felt great in it while also revealing some of my assets (and a pretty tattoo). Pair these with some chunky dressy shoes that made my calves look amazing and leaving my hair down per my norm, I was ready for my first real face-to-face date with a man I was crazy in love with.
Beings where we were at, there were a lot of country boys and girls about, cowboy boots, hats, jeans, along with the city folks who never did fall in with that style. A great mixture. I almost expected peanut shells on the floor but I knew there wouldn’t be any considering it had a dance floor. The Uber dropped me off a few minutes before we were scheduled to meet, I took a deep breathe, fluffed my hair in the flagging heat and started for the door. There were plenty of people milling around outside smoking or just getting fresh air. Music thumped out of the exits, but not obnoxiously so.
A dozen feet from the entrance my eyes met his a couple yards down the corrugated tin wall, just leaning against it so relaxed. He wore faded jeans over worn cowboy boots crossed at the ankles, a white t-shirt tucked in with an open flannel rolled up at the sleeves and a cool, calm and collected smirk on his gorgeous face.
Time seemed to stand still as my feet stuttered to a stop. The music and voices faded to the background. There he was. In the flesh. My heart pounded. My palms got sweaty. My breathing increased. Damn. He looked even better in real life. I swallowed. Attempted to smile. Badly. He smiled though. Big. Like he just found a tall glass of cold water after being in the desert. He pulled away from the wall and opened his arms wide while slowly moving toward me. I breathed out his name and then we fell into each other’s arms. It was the best hug I’ve ever had. He just held me and held me. Stroking my hair. Breathing in deep. “It’s so fucking good to finally see you,” he whispered near my ear. I shivered with desire. I had never been so turned on in my life. I was half-afraid he’d be able to smell me even amongst the cigarettes and food smells. “Yes!” I smartly responded. Because, I’m articulate like that.
He pulled away and we stood gazing into each other’s eyes. Briefly his brown eyes moved to my lips and back up again. He smiled wider. My lips parted. Oh how I wanted him to kiss me right there. Instead his fingers rose, pinched my chin and he smiled again as he pulled me in for another hug. His body felt so good, so right, in my arms. Looping my hand into the crook of his elbow, he gestured to the door. “Shall we?” I giggled embarrassingly and I know I blushed. “Yeah.” See what I mean? Articulate.
The interior of the club was what you would expect to see… I think. It had actually been quite a while since I had been to one. It was dim but not too dim. A large dance floor was sunk into the floor off to our left while the house seating curled around off to the right and back around, with a couple different levels creating a modicum of privacy for some of the booths. The restaurant part being carpeted in a dark earthy brown that helped with the ambience. The night was moderately young but the dance floor was already covered. Listening to the music playing, I immediately liked the place. Here and there a waitress or waiter could be seen moving amongst the tables in their stand-out crisp white shirts and black shorts. Each one sported a black bow at their throat and a name embroidered on their left breast.
He leaned in to the hostess to say something I didn’t catch, then turned back to me. Besides the quick perusal of our surroundings, we both seemed to only have eyes for one another. The hostess, upon consulting her table chart, led us up and around to the back wall where a few booths sat in the dark. Each table had a lit candle on it as well as sconces on the wall. There was one booth empty and it was to this one in which she gestured us towards with a smile, setting two menus down and turning back to her station for the next people waiting. I stepped up into our booth and slid around nearly to the middle. It could have held four or five people, depending on how cozy they were.
He slid in after me and sat so close, so close. God I wanted him. I wanted to kiss him and touch him and more, so much more. He just sat there looking into my eyes and I returned the favor. Again his gaze went to my lips but held a little longer. I wanted him to kiss me so bad. When his eyes snapped to mine once more, there was definitely a fire there. He raised his hand to my face, rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb, pulled it open just a little before tapping my lips with his index finger. “Not yet, my love,” he murmured, “but soon.”
Immediately the thought, the idea, that he did indeed want me as much as I wanted him, but was going to remain in control for both of us turned me on in such a way. I looked to my menu. Scarcely able to read the words written there. He chuckled and lifted his as well. I felt his leg brush mine and then hold there. Fire spread up my thigh settling in my belly.
Clearing my throat I asked, “…know what sounds good?” Lowering his menu back to the table’s surface, he turned his body to mine. Commanding my full attention. “There’s one thing that sounds great,” he growled out. I swallowed. My pussy was drenched. I shifted. “Uncomfortable?” he teased. Damn it. He knew. Of course he knew. He laughed and turned back to his menu. I leaned toward him and went back to mine.
A few minutes later after our server had taken our order and delivered the drinks, he turned back to me and something shifted between us. It was like we were back on the phone or texting again. The sexual tension was there but we just started talking like we always did. Both of us laughing and dropping sexual innuendos, just like always. This continued for the next forty-five minutes or so, right through dinner. By the end, we had scooted right next to each other and his arm was behind me. My hand moved to his thigh and I looked up at him as my hand moved up. Fire burned behind his dark eyes. He leaned in and spoke into my ear, “let’s dance, baby. I want to see you move in that skirt.”
He took my hand and we made our way to the crowded dance floor. The first song was moderately paced, enough that we felt the desire to hold one another but not so close as a truly slow song would have dictated. It was perfect. We both got into the groove immediately. Song after song. Dance upon dance. I swung and twirled, laughed and shimmied. He was super fun. Laughing just as much as I was.
The longer we danced, moving together and apart, the more I wanted him. And then this slow sexy song by Radiohead started. I loved this song. He knew it. I’d said many times if I could make love to a song, this one would pop my cherry. It was sensual and I adored it. I turned my back to him and slithered up and down his body, my hands above my head, lacing behind his neck. Moving down my body. His hands on my hips just feeling me move. I could feel his arousal.
His right hand snaked down my hip, down my thigh and then slowly back up, lifting my skirt as he did. His fingers brushed my naked pussy. My inner thighs soaked. Abruptly he grabbed my wrist and flipped me around facing him. “No fucking panties?” he ground out. I shook my head. He pulled me close, tight. Closer than I thought was possible. His hard cock pressing into me. His right hand went down my back, down my skirt, and he palmed my ass. Forcing me to grind on him.
Then he leaned forward, his left hand in my hair, and our lips crashed together. Once more, time ground to a halt. Radiohead faded away, the press of bodies became nonexistent. It was raw and intense and real. I wasn’t sure where I ended and he began. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, he bit my lip, our teeth scraped. I was moaning and crying out. The Intensity. His strong hand kneading my ass, his other wrapped in my hair, tugging slightly. I could feel my juices running down to my knee. We were grinding and growling and lost in one another.
It wasn’t until another couple bumped into him, jostling us, that the spell was broken and we pulled away. Lotus Flower was no longer playing. When had it ended? We stared into one another’s eyes. Damn. I was a goner. His hand released my hair and the other slipped off my ass. Yeah. The chemistry was definitely stronger in person.
Swiftly he took my hand and pulled me off the dance floor straight up to our booth. Climbed in to the back, dragging me behind him. He blew out both the sconces on the wall as well as the table candle. Without a word, he unzipped his fly, pulled his raging cock out, stroked it twice. Then he lifted me up and set me down straddling his lap, my back leaning against his broad chest, both of us facing out to the crowded restaurant and dance floor. My ass rested right there. God I wanted him.
As if reading my mind, his legs spread, forcing mine even wider, wider still. His right hand gripped my inner thigh while the left reached lower, stroked my pussy lips, which were wide open for him. The movement of spreading my legs and lifting my skirt just a little was enough. I barely had to shift my hips and he thrust inside me. I gasped.
“Don’t make a fucking sound. Not one word.” I bit my lip. He knows I’m a moaner. Shit. Slowly his hips pistoned deeper shallower, deeper again. I fought the urge to groan out my pleasure. He felt perfect. Hitting me in all the right places. His legs kept me spread wide as he impaled me slowly, methodically on his thick hard cock. One hand squeezing and massaging my inner thigh. The other went to my throat.
The orgasm hit me so hard, I whined a little. His fingers tightened at my throat. Reminding. Warning me. He continued to slowly fuck me. Not being incredibly obvious that yes, we were fucking in public our very first time together. He began to hum in my ear, speaking out filthy things he knew I loved hearing. “My dirty little slut. Whose pussy is this?” “Yours.” I managed through gritted teeth. “That’s right.” Hard thrust. A sharp intake of breath. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, slut, I’ll make sure of that.” The hand on my thigh went to my throbbing clit.
“Now you’re going to be a good girl, and you’re going to cum again. I want to hear my name. That’s the only word you may say, understand?” I nodded. “…Now cum for me. Right…. now.” And I did, oh fuck how I did. I even somehow managed to conversationally say his name. And the instant I did, as my tight pussy clamped and spasmed around him, he released his seed deep, deep inside me. And we came and came together. So hard. So perfect.
That night, our first night together, my lover made good his promise: I wasn’t able to walk the next morning. For when I did finally leave our bed, it was limping in delicious, glorious pain.
tara caribou | ©️2018