tagRomanceA Flame in the Night Ch. 01

A Flame in the Night Ch. 01

bydawei©

Welcome to my fantasies and many thanks for reading my story. Generally this series is a tale of erotic romance blended with other light diversions. But take notice! Be patient about the sex; this story was meant to tease, and not much sex happens during the first five chapters. So I don't want you frustrated if you're looking for something quicker. And although I say this is "a story ... to a woman"--actually, it's a mixed bag and either gender might enjoy it depending on the chapter. Finally then--please vote and comment--as I'm a novice and dearly needing the encouragement of having your feedback!

* * *

IRRESISTIBLE INTRODUCTION

A story from a guy to a woman...

It seems so innocent as it begins. We're sitting down and chatting over coffee. Well, I'm drinking coffee while you're having tea. It's a night we'll learn much about one another, for it's a blind date, you might say, and we're just meeting in person for the very first time.

And yet, it wasn't so innocent after all. Indeed, it was quite planned for a reason. Drawn together by a hidden fate, we met, as some do, on the Internet--the computer world sometimes referred to as cyberspace--a place too often void of integrity and filled with anonymous make-believe characters. Relationships from this universe are a minefield; therefore, one must traverse this path with a degree of caution. Though for tonight, we go beyond this virtual reality and away from the safety of firewalls, and the likes of such technological things. Because this evening, as we carelessly step into our cyber imagination, this fantasy, as it once was, is now something much more tangible. Consequently, the illusory online encounters--that at one time resided only in our minds and within the computer networks--have in the moment transformed into something that's in every way quite real.

In the beginning, then, we sit and talk there for a while exchanging pleasantries. We go on making the usual small talk, covering the weather, inquiring about our work and hobbies, etc. But on this evening, it feels especially cozy and private as we chat at the coffee shop. The few others who are there are also engaged in their own intimate conversations. It's easy, then, to open up and discuss about our secret lives and fantasies. And it's amazing what we begin to share.

But one might wonder why you chose to meet this unfamiliar stranger in person. Surely, you must've done plenty of thinking about meeting such guys: "I know, I know... He's probably a creep. Or worse, a pervert perhaps. Oh, why are men always such jerks?" So possibly then, you've hope and curiosity for something better this time. But on the other hand, maybe you're feeling just a touch lonely. Or maybe it's simply your human condition calling you to add some wild, wayward passion to your life.

In any case, you couldn't resist my offer. "Intriguing," you thought, "so what could it hurt?" "All he wants," you explain to yourself, "is to meet me." And in return for this, I'd promised to give you a story. Well, not just any story, but an erotic sex story!

But nevertheless, you were bewitched with this vision of seduction. You were so enchanted with the possibility of meeting me face-to-face and seeing what may become of it, when you listen to me confess a sexually provoking story. In fact, purposely you must've utterly denied your fascination with the plausible outcome of this occasion. After all, you hardly paid attention to my very clear and adamant warning.

"But if you like my story," I touted you, "you must then agree to have sex with me!" So that was the deal. And daringly, you accepted the arrangement and consented to meet with me--to see what adventures would follow.

* * *

So as we converse that night, for some time perhaps, we warm up to the mutual affinity we have for each other. And while I can't completely shake off my nervousness, I do feel myself becoming very much at ease with you. In addition, due to the auspicious reasons we are meeting, I'm especially hopeful and cheery-eyed about the chance to bond with a woman of your uncommon virtue. Realistically, not many would be ambitious enough to meet me under our agreement. So, perhaps it's a sign you might be uniquely special and a gal who will fit me like a glove, and we can share some grand times and be very good together. Then, possibly, maybe that's how I happened to miscue and get a little out of touch with our circumstance, as I casually ask you:

"Imagine in a year from now or so, ... what if we're still together?"

I can't put my finger on why I ask, but I've opened a potentially scary and risky question. Not that I've said anything wrong, but for our first meeting it might be construed that I'm being too anxious, and being overly forward assuming whatever relationship we've started will also exist afterwards into the future.

So was I lacking confidence? Had I gotten desperate? When it comes to meeting women in places, such as clubs, bars, or even the local Starbucks, I'm uptight believing I'm an underachiever, having below average ability in making impromptu dates with women. But alternatively, when online I'm a champion, perhaps, and not afraid to say anything straightforward and direct. "Hey! Wanna meet for sex?" Oh, sure, on the Internet I can say that without even a shudder. However, in real life I'd be scared to ask a cute woman the mere time of day.

So then, alas, here we are and something within me is ticking. I don't thoroughly recognize it. I'm not really sure what it is, but it's making me strangely impatient, a tad bit foolish, and yeah, kind of romantic.

"What do you mean?" Your left facial cheek elevates slightly and now you're looking very puzzled.

"Well, think of a small gift," I answer. "And a while from now, what if I gave you that gift. Then what gift can it be to signify something more and mean something special?"

"Special? You mean like ... like a ring?"

"No, no!" I quickly raise my hand and waver it back and forth. "I mean something more subtle than that ... like a kind of token gift. But then if you happen to receive it, it'd represent something considerably more. That simple or charming gift would be like a secret message, saying--I love you!"

"Uh... are we moving too fast?" You caution me.

"I'm not saying I love you! I'm just talking hypothetically."

"Hmm ... something simple ... charming ... that secretly says, I love you." You think about it for a moment and come up with an answer. "Okay, get me a bracelet. ... Oh wait! Make it a bracelet with cute ducks on it. Yeah, 'cause I like little duckies."

I chuckle and say, "Okay, I'll try to remember ... duckies!"

"And what gift would you like?" you ask the equivalent question. Then you put your index finger on the table and pretend like you're writing and taking notes.

"Hey, sorry, that was my question." I give you a smug look and half-jokingly I say, "No copying me!" But soon after, I tell you, "Just do something special for me, okay?"

"Okay, I'll remember." You wink and show me a bright, truthful smile. You finish jotting your imaginary note on the table top and read it aloud. "Do something special!"

Afterwards, our chatting progresses onward as we continue amusing ourselves in dialog and general sharing. But while talking about social things is interesting, being the guy that I am, I've a tendency to partially stray away in my mind. I go off in tangents wondering about other things, like whether you and I will be going to bed tonight. What do your boobs look like under your bra? Do you shave under your arms? Do you have a pretty pie?

Yes, I guess I'm kind of that way since I want to know some finer points about your bodily attributes. Yet, at the same time, I'm also intrigued about your sexual life. So right now, additionally, I also want to learn your bedroom personality and about any of your intimate experiences. Then as I think about gaining familiarity with those details, it feeds my fancy to know even more of you. What do you like? Why do you like it? Yet, as I inquire on it, it appears that you're a bit shy about discussing this or possibly too reserved to say much more, when I ask.

"Oh you know, I like what a lot of women like--" you vaguely announce. Then later, determined to change the subject, you add, "But, I bet I know what you like." Playfully smiling, you continue: "You guys are so predictable! You--always--want the same thing. But go ahead. Let me hear it. Tell me about your sexual fantasies."

Oddly, I'm thrilled you're requesting to learn about my sexual insights. I feel like a child impatiently waiting and wanting to blurt out a whopping fish story of my carnal yearnings. But rather than babbling a long list of wishful ideas, I decide to try another approach, which would be to summarize it more concisely. "What do I like about sex?" I reply. "I love to get sucked!"

"Is that it?" you ask. "Is that all?" you say, obviously doubting me and not very convinced it could be so simple.

"No." I grin. "There's more, a lot more. But I believe getting lots and lots of blowjobs and handjobs is the key--the secret to unlocking my passion!"

"Oh my my! You horny guy," you say with a laugh. Then with a bewildering expression, you make the following remarks:

"But I don't really get the big attraction to it. Why is it that all you guys are so hooked on oral and anal sex anyway? So what's the big deal about it?"

"Anal sex?" I reiterate. "Talk about organic ... that's about as raw as it gets!"

My sarcastic comment doesn't quite win you over. I observe your smile cracked frozen between not knowing whether to laugh, which might encourage more of my humor; or to show disdain, thereby blunting any further remarks of insincerity. Thus, feeling somewhat perplexed at reading your frame of mind, I try to clarify my point with a little more seriousness. I add:

"Well, yeah ... I like anal sex, like many guys do. I admit it. It's erotic and kinky, but you have to take your time with it to feel good. And I think you have to be genuinely curious about having a guy in you that way. So it's even better, I think, when you feel good about it and feel submissive and giving. Well, then, that's when it's really sexy."

"Yeah I suppose so," you tell me with some remorse, as it almost sounds appealing when it's presented like that. It makes you interested to ask me more about it, but instead, your thought changes. "Damn! That's gotta hurt," you tell yourself. "But ... well ... maybe it's not that bad. Maybe it's kind of like--"

For the moment, you stop thinking about that, and you decide to get back into a flirting mood. The woman in you wants to play; hence, you press me to say more, "Okay then, big boy. Why do you like your--big cock--in my mouth?"

In a teasing way, you begin to wet your lips with a salacious tongue gesture, obviously trying to jolt me. And it works because I'm rocked off my seat with the unspoken language you're throwing at me. So, unsure if I can or should form an opinion about what I've seen or what you're suggesting, I gaze into your eyes to see if I can unveil some truth about what just happened. But all I can do is admire the alluring beauty of a seducing woman, for a man is forbidden to really know what makes a woman tease like this. And as you enjoy the confusion in my face, you're smirking from deep within.

With an entrapping mannerism, you then entice me for a response, "So go on, and tell me more! Describe your sexual fantasy."

I, then, give you what you ask. I explain all about it--in these stories.

--end of chapter one--

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