Alexandra Ch. 02

We were still kissing so I ran my hand back down the inside of her thigh and started to pull up her skirt. I pulled it up to reveal her knee and pressing my fingers against her skin pushed it right up to totally expose her leg and discovered that she was wearing white cotton panties.

All my attention was focused on her vagina now. I was looking down, so I know I wasn't kissing her. But I don't know if she was still kissing me, or if her arms were around me, or what she was doing. I think she was probably not doing anything.

I put my finger tips onto her warm, damp panties and felt her open lips beneath. I pressed my finger against them and traced her slit. She gasped. Taking hold of the edge of her panties I pulled at them, but there was no give. So I took hold of the top and pulled them down slightly to loosen them. Then I slipped my fingers into the leg of her panties and ran them back down and under to touch her directly.

Her lips parted and my finger was inside her. I pushed my finger down and then back up to find her clitoris. Her mouth was on mine and our tongues found each other again. I pressed harder. She tilted her head back I gently chewed her throat. She sat up and turned to face me. My hand lost its place, so I ran both hands up along her sides to push up her top and reveal her breasts again.

She leaned forward to kiss me and I cupped both her breasts. Her head moved in rhythm with my tongue, her body with my hands. Then I slipped my left hand around to hold her close and bent down so I could work both hand and mouth on her left breast. She lent forward and I pressed my hand between her legs again.

I had my back against the bed now, so I just lay back against it as she started to rub herself against my fingers. I was in a sensual haze. All my attention was centred on the movement of her clitoris against my fingers. The smell, the dim lighting, the heat and weight of her leaning over me was the background against which I rubbed her.

Her rhythm stopped and she tensed and pressed down, her arm across my throat, as she tilted her head back and moaned.

Then she sat down on her knees in front of me and smiled. I let my hand drop and relaxed against the bed. I had the strangest feeling. It was a pleasant sort of contentment, as if I'd come myself, though I hadn't.

She slipped her bra straps off her arms, pulled it from under her top and tossed onto the bed. "That was the perfect end to a perfect night," she glowed. "Thanks, Kevin."

One word stuck in my mind. "End"? What did she mean end? Surely this was just the beginning? But she was so happy and contented. And it was such a buzz to have made her so, that I thought, lets not spoil it by disagreeing. After all I didn't want to appear like I was one of those guys who were only interested in their own pleasure. Which, by some strange altruistic twist of logic, I figured I'd be if I asked for it, even though she'd clearly come first and was showing no intention of returning the compliment.

It was enough for me to have made her come. It was the first time I'd made love to a woman and I didn't want to spoil such the event by ending the night on a sour note. It would have been nice to have continued and even spent the night with her, but I hadn't even expected to get that far on the first date and I was more than satisfied. Having to ask for it would have ruined it.

I wasn't really thinking straight the fact of having made another person orgasm just blew my mind.

"So you don't want me to spend the night then?" was the most subtle and diplomatic thing I could think of saying.

"No," she giggled. "Of course not."

But even though I was trilled by having made her come I was still keyed up and aroused. And having the expectation of coming myself frustrated was hard to take.

"Come on get up," she pulled my arm roughly. "Up and out, Kevin."

So I had these two conflicting repercussions swimming around in my mind. On the one had I was over the moon that I'd made her come. On the other I was feeling dejected, and even rejected, by her not wanting to return the compliment.

Slowly I got to my feet and picked up my T-shirt. I pulled it on and she handed me my shirt. I buttoned it up and opened my jeans to tuck it inside and readjust my underpants, by this time my erection had returned to normal. I could feel her looking at me, but I didn't look back. I didn't want to leave, but it was preferable to overstaying my welcome.

I wanted to ask her if she loved me. But didn't speak. I wanted to ask her why she didn't want to do more. But didn't want to appear to be asking for it. I wanted to ask her why I couldn't stay. But it was enough that she didn't want to sleep with me.

So I pulled on my socks and tied up my shoes.

She was standing against the table as I looked up. I smiled at her and she smiled back. I walked cross to her and put my arms around her. She hugged me back and we kissed again. I ran my hands down to her bottom, gathered up her skirt and slipped my hand inside her panties. We hugged tightly. Then she pushed back a bit.

I looked at her and she dropped her hand to my crotch and smiled. I mirrored the gesture.

"Do you want to go again?" my voice was hoarse.

"Oh, no," she took her hand away and stepped back.

"Oh," I replied and could think of nothing else to do but to get my coat from the end of the bed. As I put it on I asked, "Do you want to go out again?" I looked around at her, "Like tomorrow or Sunday?"

"Emm," she looked down. "I don't know Kevin."

"If you give me your number I'll phone you," I smiled. The thought of having to ask for her phone number after we'd had sex appealed to my sense of irony.

She hesitated, "Tell you what, why don't you give me yours and I'll phone you."

"477217," I replied.

She turned to the table and scribbled on a pad. "OK," she straightened up. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Do I get yours?" I asked.

"Well it's very difficult to reach me," she said. "Especially at work." She paused. "I'm in and out all day long," she added.

"Oh, OK," there wasn't much else I could say.

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway to unlock the door to her flat.

I walked past and stopped to kiss her.

As we kissed goodnight. I squeezed her left breast with my right hand. It was a gesture to remind her what I'd just done, and to say I'd be back. It was also a mark of ownership. To show that I was close enough to her not to have to ask permission now.

I didn't consciously think that at the time. Then all I knew was that I was head-over-heels in love with her and that she seemed to love me back.

As I walked home those two conflicting feelings of elation and rejection worked their way through my mind. I reasoned that she didn't want to make love to me because she was shy, she was probably as inexperienced as I was, but hadn't read as many books nor seen as much pornography as I had. Anyway the thought of having made her come just blew my mind. I knew that she must really like me, if not actually love me, to have gotten so intimate with me.

I got home and climbed straight into bed. The smell and taste and feel of Alexandra was still with me. And recalling the events of the evening was as pleasurable as acting them had been, with one important addition. As I remembered the feel of Alexandra in my arms, my hands worked my erection. I savoured every little detail of my night with her. All my passion came back renewed. And when at last I came it seemed to go on for ever. It was the best masturbation I have ever done.

Afterwards I fell into a contented and exhausted sleep secure in the knowledge that the night had been a great start to my relationship with Alexandra. It was only much later that I realised what a disaster it really had been.