Shape

Dinner is Served

It’s so elating when you meet someone who appears to be perfect for you in every way. 

 

It is also kind of terrifying. 

 

Our first date was meeting up for Sunday brunch. And that brunch stretched into afternoon coffee. Then, that afternoon coffee stretched into dinner. 

 

Dinner at your place. 

 

I couldn’t believe it. 

 

“I don’t have much because I wasn’t expecting anyone.” You said. “But I have enough to whip up some pasta and vegetables if that’s alright for you?” 

 

You could have offered me saltine crackers for dinner and I would have taken it. I would have pretended it was a 5-star meal.  

 

Women almost never answer me on Tinder. And women who look like you probably get so many weird messages that you wonder if you even want to open the app at all, let alone answer anyone. 

 

While I am definitely not one of those guys who sends insane sexual messages to strangers and then acts like I can’t get laid because of some kind of dark conspiracy against me, I am not exactly an online dating Casanova either. 

 

I know that “Hi, how are you?” isn’t exactly a revolutionary ice breaker. 

 

But I am incredibly thankful that it was enough for you.  

 

We had been talking for days. It was great, and I hoped that kind of easy conversation would be just as good in person.     

 

And it was. We talked from 11 am until 7:30 pm, non-stop. 

 

You were wearing a short yellow sundress, and when you bent over to get a jar of pasta sauce out of the cabinet to heat it up, and I almost saw your ass, I couldn’t wait any longer.   

 

I pressed myself behind you and snuck my hands around your waist. Even though things had gone so well so far, and we had even kissed outside the cafe, I wondered if this was too much and you would push me away.  

 

Instead, you melted against me. Your one hand was still noncommittally on the jar of pasta sauce. I had one hand resting on your stomach. I kissed your neck and you sighed. 

 

I kissed from the strap of your sundress to your ear lobe and your hand left the jar of pasta sauce.   

 

It wound in my hair and I took your earlobe between my teeth. You let out a little breath that was on the verge of being a noise of pleasure. I wanted more. 

 

I spun you around. Our lips locked and you leaped up onto the counter, knocking the pasta sauce to the ground beside me. It rolled away and I pressed against you, taking you into my arms as our lips and tongues tangled together.   

 

Your sundress did little to cover you in this position. I could see your breasts starting to escape it and had a clear view of your lacy black panties between your thighs.  

 

I took your breasts in my hands through your dress and you threw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulders as I circled your nipples with my fingers through your dress.  

 

Your little noises of pleasure were so sweet and addictive. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was hard and aching in my jeans.  

 

I pulled down the straps of your dress and your breasts spilled out of them. I knelt down to kiss and nibble and lick them.    

 

Soon after you took my face into your hands and pulled me closer to you, wrapping your arms and legs around me. Your dress was bunched around the middle, revealing your long legs, full hips, and lacy black panties to me entirely.  

 

I reached down with two fingers, running my fingers over the outline of your pussy lips through your panties. 

 

You were already wet.   

 

You still had your heels on and I could feel them poking into my lower back as you arched against me and tried to pull me closer.  

 

You were sucking on my tongue and it was driving me wild. When I finally slid my fingers inside your panties, done with teasing you through the fabric and dragging my fingertips all over your thighs, you smiled at me. 

 

It was a wicked smile. It urged me to go on.   

 

I started by pushing your panties to the side, exposing you to me. 

 

I applied pressure to your clit, softly at first, barely even touching. 

 

For one thing, I really wanted to tease you until you lost your fucking mind. 

 

For another, if you liked things a little gentler, I didn’t want to overdo it right out of the gate. I wanted to open you up and get you desperate and wet and dripping for my cock.  

 

You opened up for me, moving even closer, chasing more pressure. I knew you wanted more. 

 

But I wasn’t ready to give it to you.   

 

I leaned forward and took your ear between my teeth. I kissed and licked and nibbled on your skin as I slid my fingers back to where you were the wettest. 

 

I slid in just one and you groaned. It was erotic but tinged with frustration. You wanted more. 

 

But was I ready to give it to you? 

 

You were grinding your hips against my single finger. Your eyes were closed, your lips were parted, and your cheeks were flushed. 

 

Your triumphant little gasp when I slid in another finger went straight to my cock.   

 

You were so hot and wet and tight.  

 

I teased your clit with my thumb every so often as I pushed my fingers in and out of you, finger fucking you with more and more strength as your ground against me, riding my fingers.   

 

I felt myself getting harder and harder in my jeans. My cock was throbbing with arousal. As much as I wanted to tease you forever, I knew that it was only a matter of time before I just had to be inside you. 

 

I wanted to fuck you so bad.   

 

“Please,” You gasped eventually.   

And that was all it took. I pulled my cock out of my pants. I saw you watching me. 

 

You looked at it like it was a treat that you wanted to taste. You licked your plush lips and for a second I lost focus entirely. I could see you on your knees in front of me, sucking my cock. 

 

Then one of your long pointed heels poked me in the back and brought me back to reality. 

 

You wanted me to get on with it, and I couldn’t help but finally give you what you wanted. 

 

The first slide inside you was deliciously and torturously slow. I could feel your pussy stretching to accommodate me. You were panting.     

 

I stopped halfway through. I asked you everything was ok.  

 

Your answer was to sink down on my cock and squeezing it as if you were trying to milk the seed out of it. 

 

I growled low in my throat, and before I could wonder where the fuck it came from I was slamming into you so hard that you nearly slapped against the backsplash. You had dishes drying in a nearby dishrack and one fell to the ground, cracking in two as I continued to ruthlessly fuck into you.  

 

You were shaking and wailing, almost unable to keep up with my thrusts as I gave you every inch of my cock.    

 

I couldn’t see, I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe. I braced my arms on the counter to get more leverage and savagely slammed into you. 

 

You could no longer keep your feet around my waist. You were too weak and fucked out. Your legs had spread wide and I felt one of your heels fly off and bounce off of my leg as I gave you everything that I could possibly give you as hard as I could.  

 

I wanted to warn you that I was going to come, but when you finally tightened around me all I could do was scream as I spilled into you. You sunk your teeth into my neck and wrung the last of my orgasm out of me in a violent burst. 

 

Somewhere deep in my mind it occurred to me that this felt too good, and I was probably going to die. I think I said something like that to you, and you laughed, only for it to be swallowed by a little wail as I slammed into you one final time.   

 

We panted together. You half collapsed on your counter and me half collapsed on top of each other. We were covered in each other’s sweat.  

 

“Pick something to order for dinner.” You said, still gasping for air. “I don’t care what it is.” 

 

My head was on your chest. I couldn’t yet form words. I grunted at you. “I’m too tired to make anything.” You said. 

 

I started to laugh and before it could become a cackle, you kissed me.