Up For Review:
Promise (MF slow rom)
She took another look in the rearview mirror and freshened her lipstick. She wanted to look nice for this first meeting. The headlights from passing cars shone just enough for a quick glimpse of herself. She decided she looked presentable. She wore a causal, summer dress. Her friends teased her that she dressed too conservatively, but she felt comfortable and a little sexy. She had discovered through this online relationship that she had a very passionate nature. He had the chance to discover her passion as well, so looking conservative was sort of a tease, hiding her sensuality that lie just beneath the surface.
He had picked the place to meet. She liked it immediately when she arrived. It wasn't too crowded, and the people there seemed to be having a good time. Sounds of laughter and glasses clinking came from the bar area. The lighting was soft and a little hazy. The atmosphere was friendly. It felt nice and cozy.
She stepped in further, scanning the booths, looking for him. When she didn't see him immediately, she fought a small jab of nerves that he might not show up. She turned to look at the bar stools, searching every face. A presence slipped up behind her. She caught the scent of fresh, clean skin with a hint of polo cologne. She knew it was him. She smiled and turned as he whispered,
"Are you looking for Yogi?"
"Are you looking for Boo Boo?"
They both quietly laughed at the pet names they had adopted for one another. They hesitated a moment, fitting the person with the personality they had shared so much with online. He led her to the table where he had been waiting. She was pleased he held her chair - she liked being treated like a lady. He commented that she was fifteen minutes late, and he was wondering if she had stood him up. She didn't hear all of his words. She was too busy looking at his eyes and remembering all the fantasizing they had shared over the months. She was daydreaming about the hot tub story when she suddenly realized he had asked her what she would like to drink. She did a quick check and said anything on tap was fine.
He was wearing a green golf shirt and jeans, casual and sexy. She wondered if these were the jeans she had made "tight" during some of their discussions. He stopped talking and was just looking at her. His silent stare made her anxious. He reminded her she had a habit of biting her bottom lip when she was nervous. He made a joke that she was already flirting. She blushed. She hadn't meant to, not yet, anyway.
He was so easy to talk to and great company. They talked about sports, argued what team was better, laughed about children's antics, and how nice a place the restaurant was. They even commiserated over all the changes they were going through. The conversation flowed easily. They laughed together as old friends. He touched her hand a few times as he talked. It was exhilarating, but she pretended not to notice. She was reluctant to let him know the effect he had on her.
She excused herself to the ladies room to freshen up after the long drive, and when she returned, a small band was playing. He said he had heard them before and they were pretty good. She listened and agreed. They cranked out familiar tunes, a great mix of old and new. The kinds that make you remember when and have you wanting to sing along.
Couples flocked to the dance floor. It was small and filling up quickly. They watched for a while, giggling at a guy dancing the Funky Chicken. Another guy had a bad toupee and was wearing Saturday Night Fever pants. They reminded each other they had similar outfits in the back of their closets. The band played a mellower tune, and he asked her to dance. She was a little hesitant but gladly accepted. She was enjoying his company so much.
He held her tentatively, wrapping one arm around her and holding her hand with the other. They shyly smiled when they touched. His hand on her back pulled her a little closer. She was glad her feet just took over, matching his steps without thought. Before the song ended, she was pressed against him. She loved the smell at his neck and the movement of his body. Steady heat was building between them. The music ended. They returned to their table and ordered fresh drinks.
They talked quietly. There were sexual innuendos and flirty glances and the mood changed from casual to sensual. She was definitely attracted to him.
The band played another slow song and they got up to dance. This time he pulled her close from the start, and she fell into his embrace. They danced and the sexual tension increased. She leaned back to look in his eyes, and they kissed softly, as if rehearsed. Their lips were damp and they skimmed smoothly together. The connection ended, but they held their faces close together, breathing against one another.
The song stopped and they pulled apart, a bit embarrassed. They returned to their seats, holding hands. He moved his chair closer to hers and sat, just quietly looking. She leaned over and stole a kiss. Her tongue darted out, briefly touching his lips. She pulled back, not wanting to embarrass him in a public place. She shivered thinking about the possibilities of the evening.
The band broke into a smaller group, just piano and guitar players. They played soft jazz. It was quiet and airy and it made her a little dizzy. She doodled on a cocktail napkin. For some reason, she always doodled paisleys, she never knew why. She glanced up at his hazel eyes then wrote, "I want to feel your mustache on my neck". She turned the napkin toward him. He blushed as he read it. She was afraid she'd said too much, until he grabbed the pen and began writing. He turned the napkin to her. She read, " I want to bite that bottom lip of yours". Her belly fluttered and she grinned. Writing notes on cocktail napkins could be fun.
Two guys came up to the table. They were friends of his. He introduced her and she shook their hands. He invited them to sit. It was clear they had been drinking awhile, but she enjoyed the stories the three of them shared. His friends tried to embarrass him with bawdy drinking tales. He just laughed. She could see him relax. Seeing this side of him made him seem a little more real.
She wrote on the note and slipped it under his hand as he was talking. It read, "Can I lick and bite your neck, right now?" He didn't miss a beat as he glanced down at the note and continued to talk. But he did smile, and it was enough for her to know he was enjoying the game.
His hand touched her thigh under the table. The warmth of it penetrated the thin, cotton material covering her leg. He squeezed the muscle and then left his hand there. She tried to remain calm, even though it drove her wild. He was teasing her and she liked it.
He slid the napkin to her as he joked with his friends. She was sure they noticed, but that made it more exciting. The note read, "If you bite that lip again, I'm going to move my hand up your leg." She hiccoughed and felt the blush rise up her neck. His lips broke into an evil grin, and she smiled, then bit her lip. His eyes twinkled as his fingers crawled up her thigh.
She squirmed in her chair and shifted toward the table, thinking his hand would stop, but he kept inching higher. Slowly, he worked his way up her leg, teasing her. She put her hand on top of his. He squeezed her thigh. She pulled his fingers back playfully. He laughed just a little too hard at his friend's joke. She knew he was proud of himself for getting to her.
He let go of her thigh and turned his hand over, palm up, to hold hers. He had thick, strong hands; she wondered how they would feel on her breasts. Her nipples itched just thinking of it. She scratched her nails up and down each of his fingers and across his palm. He squeezed her hand tightly and pulled it over to rest on his crotch. She was shocked at his boldness with his friends close by. He pressed his hand on top of hers, pushing it down against his bulge. She relaxed her hand, letting him be the guide. His eyes grew dark as his penis lurched beneath their fingers.
His friends stood to leave, and he pulled his hand away to shake their hands, but he didn't get up. She giggled and kept her hand where it was.
Both of his hands rested on the table. He pretended not to know she was still touching him. She applied a little pressure and moved her hand up and down. She rubbed the rough jean material and teased along the zipper with her nails. He couldn't ignore it anymore. His hips pushed up against her palm. He reached under the table for her hand again. He pressed it against him once more, and gently raised her hand up to his mouth. He kissed the back of her hand with warm, soft lips and rubbed his mustache along the knuckles, then returned their hands to the table.
The world may see how their eyes turned dreamily to each other, but only they new the secret cause under the table. She couldn't be eye to eye like this for very long. He might see too much, and she needed to stay in control. Luckily, the rest of the band was returning, so she looked to the stage.
He slipped another note under her glass. It read, "I need to hold you against me." She rubbed her forehead, and unknowingly, played with a curl that had escaped. He read the edginess in her gesture. It pleased him.
He took her hand to dance again. She liked being led to the dance floor. The small tiled area was no longer just a dance floor - they had turned it into their own seductive playground. She shivered thinking about his embrace. He made a silly attempt to twirl her into his arms. They laughed as her head got tangled up under his arm. They tried again, only this time she twirled gracefully and nestled against him. They held each other in a perfect fit. Every body part slid into a groove, and they swayed with the music.
She was acutely aware of the softness of his neck against her cheek, the roughness of his chin resting at her temple, and the masculine scent of his cologne. Her breasts tingled as her nipples stiffened. His chest tightened against hers. She looked up to meet his gaze. He stared into her brandy-colored eyes and then softly kissed her forehead. His mustache tickled her piqued skin.
His eyes flickered with a smile. The intensity overwhelmed her. She leaned into his shoulder. His hand tightened around her waist. It was comforting. She slid her hand to the small of his back where it fit easily in the dip above his ass. She dug in, pulling him to her. His hips relaxed against hers.
The floor might have been crowded, but they didn't know it. They were alone in their private dance. He released her hand and cupped her face, bringing it to his. They kissed softly. Her breath hitched and then swished out in a long sigh, like she'd been holding it for a week. She battled to remain calm and to maintain her control. She was afraid of getting close, but his touch was mesmerizing.
His forehead glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. His palms were moist and his fingers shook a little. It reassured her to know he was as nervous as she. His groin pitched against her and sought her out whenever she backed away; he tightened his hold, so she couldn't. The throb of his cock was palpable. She leaned into it, enjoying something she hadn't in a very long time.
The music stopped. They eased apart. They cleared their throats and smiled, then reluctantly returned to their seats. An unspoken need to leave immediately loomed between them. Their eyes met and they blushed at silent thoughts that were obvious.
She suggested an appetizer to get things started. He said things were way past start. His humor eased the tension. She scribbled a note and slid it to him while he was distracted motioning to the waitress for menus.
He caught her as her hand slipped back into her lap. It was darker than it had been earlier and he used the candle on top of the table to read what she had written. "I want to take each of your fingers into my mouth and suck on them." He looked up grinning, letting her know he wouldn't object. He swallowed hard as he took the pen and wrote, "I want to suck on your nipples and tease them with my tongue." The air whooshed out of her lungs again
He was getting to her, and he knew it. She decided if he was going to play hardball she could to. She waited till the waitress approached the table and then slid the note over. He quickly read it and tried to order potato skins without seeming rattled. She giggled in triumph, knowing the "I want to use my hand to guide you into me" was enough to shake his control.
The waitress took his order, surely suspecting something, but she had no way of knowing the game of seduction that was being played. He waited until they were alone before penning his next line.
She leaned back in her chair, believing she was winning the game, until she read his: "I want to fuck you, now!" Her control wobbled. She rushed into conversation. They both knew the reason. The note lay conspicuously on the table, ignored for now.
He talked about his home with his sons, sounding like a proud papa. He had wonderful insight into his boys. He was committed to family. They had that in common. It was good to know. They both placed family first, always. Talking about everyday things was nice, and it allowed a break from the heat of the evening. He was making her crazy, and she suspected he was having his own share of heebie-jeebies. Besides, prolonging the night had its advantages.
He excused himself to go to the men's room. She was a little tense from the excitement, but it felt good. She tried to relax. She took some deep breaths and rolled her shoulders. She stretched her neck and then looked around. Damn, he'd left another note without her knowing! She read it. "I want to wake up with you next to me." She bit her lip and rubbed her forehead. Now he was winning the game, and winning big time.
She scrawled out a response before he returned to the table. The waitress brought their food. When he got back he raised the note and read, "I want to fall asleep with your naked body against me." He growled. They ate in comfortable silence, stealing glances above the candlelight. His knees bumped hers under the table.
Their fingertips touched as they reached for the same potato skin. The contact sizzled. She playfully smeared some of the sour cream on one of his fingers. They laughed. She watched his tongue deliberately lick his finger. His finger disappeared into his mouth as he sucked on it. Their eyes met. She licked her lips. He puckered his. She looked sultry. It made him hard. Her nipples stiffened and jutted out as she shivered. He noticed.
The game of seduction intensified. She wasn't sure who was winning now, but she was certain there wouldn't be a loser. It felt right to let him inside the protective wall she had formed around herself a long time ago. She didn't mind giving in some. His own carefully built facade seemed to be tumbling like Jericho, as well. It was good to trust again.
They skirted around the issue of why their marriages didn't work out. They shared enough information to be acutely aware of the pain each had suffered. There was an unspoken warning that neither wanted to be hurt again. They both understood the chance they were taking to open up and trust. Their attraction allowed them to take that chance, willingly. She grabbed the pen and wrote, "Let's just relax and enjoy this time together." He took her hand in his and they did.
The band announced their last song of the night. They rose together, holding hands and walked to the dance floor. They held each other tightly. There was a sense of closeness, not just of bodies, but of mind and heart as well. It was freeing to hope again.
The sexual tension remained intense but they also experienced a feeling of afterglow, like they had already made love. Maybe they had, online in words, but this was different. It was a welcomed surprise to feel so comfortable.
The dance floor was full of couples competing for space. Bodies bumped and swayed in an orgy of last chance. He kissed her gently, and then kissed her again. The music ended. They left the dance floor still holding hands. Their hands fit perfectly together, his rugged fingers clasped between her softer ones. She felt safe and secure.
He led her outside, leaving their notes on the table. More words replaced by reality. The parking lot was pitch black. She blinked a few times to adjust her vision. He led them to his car. They didn't speak. The world was so silent she was sure her thoughts shouted in the night. He made a joke about hopping in the back seat of his car. She laughed. They weren't seventeen anymore, but it was still fun to think about.
There were a few cars in the lot, but no one was around them. He leaned her against the driver's door and kissed her full on the lips. He dragged his teeth across her bottom lip, biting it. He pushed his weight against her. She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and pulled him closer. They kissed again, sweetly, with tongues barely touching. His hands cupped her face as he stared into her eyes. She felt like wax, melting from too much heat. God, she wanted him. She wanted to fall asleep with him. She wanted to wake up with him. She wanted to fuck him.
He pulled back and offered to drive her to her room. She didn't want to leave her car there, so he said he would follow her. She took the time in her car alone to think and try to regroup. Her body was flushed, her heart was pounding, and her panties were wet. He had definitely gotten to her. Damn, he was irresistible. She wondered how he was feeling.
His headlights stayed right behind her as she drove to her rented cabin. She had no expectations about this meeting but she hadn't felt like sitting in a sterile hotel room. So she'd rented a cabin. Pampering was a treat she rarely gave into, but if he hadn't shown up, the cabin was to be her consolation prize.
He pulled in right behind her and jumped out of his car. He liked the cabin. She told him the truth about why she rented it. He chided her for not believing in him. They reached the porch and he took the key from her. He shoved her against the unopened door and kissed her. She searched his face for a reason not to invite him in. There was none. She leaned into him again and ran her lips across his, back and forth and then kissed him lightly. She nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth and then bit a little harder. His hands stroked up her sides, grazing the sides of her breasts. His touch was electric and a little scary. She was on fire.
He crushed his hips into hers. His pelvis rotated and his groin grinded against her. She pressed back. His hands slid up her shoulders, into her hair. He yanked her head back, kissing her hard. Her hands explored, running down the front of his shirt and scraping his nipples. He moaned. Through her dress, he mashed her tit beneath his palm and pinched the tip. Her eyes flew open. A hazy moon lighted enough to see what their hands were doing. He watched as she tweaked his nipple. She watched as he pinched hers. It was erotic as hell. Her head began to swim.
He turned the key in the door behind her, and they fell into an unlit room. She stumbled to the table where she had left a candle and struck a match to light it.
They stood apart, fighting for breath. The phone rang. It was her son. She talked and watched him fidget in the doorway. She felt the mood slipping away and tried to rush the conversation. She assured her son that she was fine and hung up.
He noticed that she had visibly tensed up during the phone call. She offered him a drink, but she seemed distracted, and he refused. This time the silence was awkward. He smiled at her. She closed her eyes and searched for something to say. He stuttered and made some excuse about it getting late.
She nodded, wanting to beg him to stay, but was unsure of the words to use. And so she stood mutely and let him leave.
Once outside, he closed the front door, and then leaned back against it. This was a first date, he reminded himself. She's a lady. She's been hurt; she's got kids. Hell, he'd been hurt; he had kids. That didn't keep him from wanting her. He walked to the car, kicking himself for leaving.
She rushed to the window to see his headlights backing out. Her heart sank.
Should she be glad he left? What did she want from him? A quick roll in the hay, or something deeper? She knew he was aroused. She felt it. She certainly was aroused. Why didn't she beg him to stay? She was confused and scared.
She retreated to familiar comfort measures: soft music and a hot bubble bath. She lay back in the silky water. She was tempted to let her hands roam over her body and quell the need burning between her legs, but she didn't. She wanted to hang on to it, savor it, and remember every detail.
She thought about him, his strong hands, his gorgeous eyes, and the way their bodies moved together on the dance floor. She groaned. This wasn't getting her anywhere, and the water had turned cool. She dried quickly and tousled her hair. Her hair curled beyond repair. She grabbed her favorite lotion and rubbed it until her skin felt raw. She felt invigorated and younger, no longer the forty-three-year-old woman that she was. But she was acutely aware of how time had changed her body. She wondered if he would have found her body unattractive.
She slipped into the man's white dress shirt that she slept in, jumped onto the down-stuffed bed, and opened her novel to read.
The page didn't turn. She read the same sentence three times. She couldn't concentrate. All she could think of was him, the way he looked, the way he smelled, and the way he felt.
He winced at the bright headlights coming towards him. Should he have left? Should he have stayed? What was right for him? What was right for her? He fumbled with the radio. Wasn't there any station that played songs that weren't about love? He could smell her cologne on his shirt. He could taste her tongue on his lips. He could feel her body against him. He could see her eyes filled with desire.
He had been so careful not to give his heart away, but somehow he knew she would take care of it. He was a damn fool if he didn't turn his car around right now.
He slammed on the brakes and did a U-turn. His mind raced. How would he explain why he had returned? How could he stay calm when he just wanted to burst in that cabin and take her? His stomach was reeling. He was jittery. He felt like a teenager again. What would he do if she turned him away? What would he do if she didn't? He knew the answer to that; he'd make love to her till she screamed for mercy.
He pulled up to the cabin. The candles were still lit. He prayed she was awake. He got out of his car and slammed the door. Damn, the night was quiet.
His footsteps crunched along the grass and then clicked onto the wooden porch. It echoed around him. He peeked into the window and saw her lying on the bed. Her legs were bare. She was wearing a man's shirt hiked up her thigh, and there were no signs of panties. His heart pounded.
He knocked.
She startled up from the bed and grabbed the quilt around her shoulders.
It had to be him at the door, but she was afraid to get her hopes up. She saw him, looking in at her through the window. Her heart swelled. Oh god, she probably looked a fright, but he'd come back and she didn't care. She swung open the door.
He stood there in the moonlight. And then he held up her pen and said, "You forgot something." She smiled and tried to take it from his hand. He raised it above his head. She jumped for it and the quilt fell down around her ankles.
He whistled and then grabbed her. He threw the pen across the room. Their mouths opened and they kissed. Slick, hard kisses, with no teasing this time.
He looked down at her and took one of her curls in his fingers. She rolled her eyes, explaining how the steam of a bath worked on her hair. He kissed the curl, and then kissed her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered and he kissed them too. He kissed her nose and then each cheek. And then tenderly returned to her lips. She hugged him close and whispered, "I want you very much."
He ran his fingertip over her bottom lip. She nipped at his finger, and then took it in her mouth. She bathed it with her tongue. And then sucked on it. She moved her lips up and down it. She moved to the next finger, and the next, until she had tasted each one, then she turned his hand over and licked the center of his palm. He was nearly undone.
She pulled his shirt from his jeans. He eagerly helped and then tossed it over his head. His naked chest was warm and she leaned into it, rubbing her cheeks against the soft down of hair. He tried to remove her nightshirt and she jumped, crossing her arms against her chest. It had been a long time since she had been in this situation. She was programmed to think she wasn't desirable. He sensed her hesitation and said, gently, "Look at me." And she did. Tears welled up in her eyes. He was touched by her vulnerability. "Woman, you are about the sexiest thing I have ever laid eyes on, but if you want to stop right now, then we will."
She shook her head, no. She wanted him. She wanted this. And she moved her arms away from the buttons on her shirt. When he got to the last one, he left the shirt hanging open but didn't take it off.
She reached between them and tried to loosen his belt. She fumbled badly and they laughed. He kneeled back and whipped his belt out of its loops. He tried to kiss her again, but she begged him to kneel back again so she could undo his jeans. She felt shy and empowered at the same time. He watched as she pulled on the zipper, inching it down over his bulge. She circled her hands around his waist and then slipped the jeans off over his hips. Her left breast had worked its way out of her shirt. He ran his finger along the tan line and then wowed at the pale skin below it.
He leaned down and kissed the tan line, and then opened his mouth over the soft, mauve nipple. He lathed his tongue all around, and then gently sucked the tip into his mouth. His sucking became more urgent. He nipped, and then finally bit. She screamed his name and grabbed his hair, forcing his head into her tit. He leaned back and cupped both her breasts together and ran his stubbly chin across her nipples. His moustache tickled. She thought she would die.
She scraped her nails down his back and slipped her fingers in the waistband of his boxers. She jerked them downwards and watched his penis pop free. He moaned and she smiled. She licked the palm of her hand and glided it across the head, and then wrapped it around his shaft. He was hard, rock hard. She squeezed and then moved slowly up, and over the glans, and then back down. She reached with her other hand and cradled his balls. She lovingly caressed each one. She bent to kiss the tip of his cock and he stopped her, saying he was about to burst and he didn't want to yet. They walked to the bed and he eased her back gently.
He slid his hand down and wormed his way through her pubic hair. His finger followed the slit and teased it up and down. Her legs opened and her slit widened. He rubbed along the outer folds back and forth. She was ready. Her pussy was soaked. He dipped his finger into the fold, touching her swollen clitoris. She arched into it. He circled the nub and felt it elongate beneath his fingers. She screamed. He wasn't done. He worked his finger down to the opening of her vagina and pushed it through. Her muscles contracted. He teased the edge, with a quick dip in and then immediately backed out. He repeated it, and then with the next dip he shoved his finger deep, holding it there, and then pulling it out. His hand was slick with her sap. He drew his coated finger up to his lips and tasted.
She begged him for more. He knelt between her legs and lifted them high in the air. She reached for his cock and guided it to her pussy. They both watched as the head disappeared inside. She gurgled in the back of her throat as he entered her. He stopped, holding it there, lovingly teasing them both.
She looked into his face and saw his restraint. Sweat beaded up on his forehead. She grabbed his shoulders, digging into his skin. His eyes never left hers as he shoved his penis all the way inside her. She arched up to meet him. She reached around to his ass and pulled him in tighter. Her head tossed from side to side, and she mumbled obscenities.
He pulled out, and then pushed in again, slowly. She thrust her hips up to meet him, willing him to go faster. He growled as he saw how she was affected. Damn she was hot! He didn't think he could wait much longer. If she moved again it would be over. He reached down, trying to hold her hips still. It was too intense.
He lay down on her, smothering her face into his shoulder. She clamped her mouth down. He rose up, kissed her, and then whispered for her to look at him. As she did, he shoved his penis deep inside of her until he felt the back of her womb. She shook violently against him. Her nails dug into his back, and her legs squeezed together. Her climax swept over her in powerful waves. He breathed heavily into the air when her inner walls contracted around him. He pulled out, holding himself with trembling arms and then rammed again. His orgasm blasted from him, purging into her.
His hands weakened and he buckled, falling against her. They lay spent, listening to their breathing return to normal. He rose to move off her. He pulled his penis limply from her and fell face down to the side of her, leaving his arm draped across her breasts and a trail of semen across her upper leg. She snuggled into the crook of his arm and turned her head to kiss his upper arm. A single tear escaped as she realized how good it felt to have sex again, how good it felt to be desired.
He wiped the tear that trickled down her face and promised never to hurt her. She looked into his dreamy eyes and promised the same thing. It was the truth.