It was plain that he was into me. His body language screamed “I think you are cute.” from the way leaned into me and the way he always tried to touch me. I wondered why I kept leaving him with me winding up frustrated. I mean, was I not putting out the signals? The girls were happy and pointed, I always had a smile on my face and I flirted like crazy. I couldn’t even masturbate anymore because I kept seeing his face and I couldn’t imagine how it would be. I decided to give it one last try.
After dinner I invited him back to my place for coffee and to watch the latest anime. For any normal guy this would have been an open invitation to bring it and get down, but not him. He actually thought I wanted to drink friggin coffee at midnight! If he weren’t so damn sexy, I might have to let it go, but I needed to taste him. I needed to feel his tongue on my nipple and see if my theory about the size of a man’s fingers was correct (because if it was, he would be needing magnums.)
I couldn’t figure out how to get him on top of me, well to accidentally get him on top of me. I decided to just go for it and attack him. My nipples were aching, my pussy was clenching and I was dying of frustration. I called him over to me and told him, “I’m sorry, I have to” and then leaned in and kissed him. He smelled like Paco Rabanne and Dial soap. His tongue was hot and it was longer than I expected and he kissed me in a way that was unexpected. I thought it would be akward given his social skills, but it was as if he had been reading my secret blog. It was slow and deep. He played with my tongue and gently sucked on my lips. I knew it then. I was a complete goner. My frustration wasn’t sexual. It was him. The way I felt. Safe, open, and the need to pour out my inner most secrets. To tell him how my day was and listen to his. I loved his voice. It was so deep, you could almost see his chest vibrate when he spoke. It drew me in, making me ask him a million questions to listen to him talk about everything and nothing. To hear him laugh and see him smile. How did that happen in 30 seconds when our mouths met for the first time?
After dinner I invited him back to my place for coffee and to watch the latest anime. For any normal guy this would have been an open invitation to bring it and get down, but not him. He actually thought I wanted to drink friggin coffee at midnight! If he weren’t so damn sexy, I might have to let it go, but I needed to taste him. I needed to feel his tongue on my nipple and see if my theory about the size of a man’s fingers was correct (because if it was, he would be needing magnums.)
I couldn’t figure out how to get him on top of me, well to accidentally get him on top of me. I decided to just go for it and attack him. My nipples were aching, my pussy was clenching and I was dying of frustration. I called him over to me and told him, “I’m sorry, I have to” and then leaned in and kissed him. He smelled like Paco Rabanne and Dial soap. His tongue was hot and it was longer than I expected and he kissed me in a way that was unexpected. I thought it would be akward given his social skills, but it was as if he had been reading my secret blog. It was slow and deep. He played with my tongue and gently sucked on my lips. I knew it then. I was a complete goner. My frustration wasn’t sexual. It was him. The way I felt. Safe, open, and the need to pour out my inner most secrets. To tell him how my day was and listen to his. I loved his voice. It was so deep, you could almost see his chest vibrate when he spoke. It drew me in, making me ask him a million questions to listen to him talk about everything and nothing. To hear him laugh and see him smile. How did that happen in 30 seconds when our mouths met for the first time?
Wandering & Wondering 