An Intimate Evening

The door opened and a waiter appeared with small cups of soup and fragrant smelling bread and butter. The soup had wild rice and mushrooms and tasted of fall—rich and earthy. I sighed in appreciation. Mark offered me a roll, which scented the air with rosemary as I broke it apart. The butter tasted faintly of honey. I rolled my eyes in appreciation, torn between devouring it, and minding my manners in this beautiful place. Manners won, and I nibbled delicately at the roll, and then sipped more soup.

Mark broke the silence, making me jump. "So, have you decided on a major yet?" he inquired. Ah, an attempt at small talk.

"Oh, yes! I'm going for European history, mainly Renaissance England. I wanted to major in art, but then I had this teacher who turned everything upside down, and made the past come alive for me. He was marvelous! He taught it like gossip instead of dry dates and wars and treaties."

"Maybe you could combine it with art for art history. Have you been to the university museum yet?"

"No, I've been too busy studying and enjoying stuff on campus. I've only been downtown once."

"I'll have to take you there, then, there's a good collection of medieval and renaissance art.

"That would be wonderful!" I finished the soup and nibbled on the other half of my roll. Mark refilled my wine as the waiter appeared and took away our soup bowls, replacing them with a prettily composed salad. Mark watched as I ate a sliver of carrot. I noticed his eyes, and made a big show of licking the vinaigrette from the next piece, and then from a baby corn. I smirked when he shifted in his chair.

We chatted about my course load, my roommate, and our tastes in music, which were similar. I started to feel a glow from the wine, and got more talkative and slightly giggly. Mark watched me with pleasure in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy my animation, and he actually became reasonably chatty himself. I learned he was prominent in a fraternity and lived in their house on campus, truly loved computer programming, and came from an indulgent, artistic family. His father owned a gallery downtown, and his mother was a well-known sculptor. That explained the Ferrari, I supposed.

The waiter returned to replace our salads with the main course, delicious veal with lemony rice and asparagus, my favorite vegetable. I grinned in delight after the first taste. We both enjoyed our meal in a comfortable silence. He took me completely unawares with his next question.

"When you went down on me yesterday, you came too, didn't you?" he asked softly.

I was so surprised I dropped my fork with a clatter. I could feel the color scorch its way up from my breasts to my eyebrows. "Y-y-yes," I finally managed to stammer, grabbing for the wine.

He smiled gently at my discomposure. "I could tell, you know. I wasn't sure until I watched you today, but I thought so. You were beautiful, your head thrown back, your mouth open, your back arched, your nipples hard." He paused, and then leaned back in his chair. "Stand up and take off your vest, I want to see them now."

"But Mark, I..." I tried to protest, standing in spite of my acute embarrassment.

"Please, Amy, I want to see you," he insisted.

Hands shaking, I began to open the buttons. Partway down, it transformed into a striptease. My eyes were locked on his face; his eagerness was almost predatory. I slid the leather vest off and goose bumps rose as the air chilled me. I shivered, and my nipples hardened again.

"Come here, beside me," he demanded, his voice going suddenly rough.

I complied, arms at my sides. He raised his hands up to cup my breasts and rub his thumbs across my nipples. My knees trembled and I let out a sigh, closing my eyes. He slid his hands down my waist and over my hips, smoothing the silk and cupping my ass with his long fingers. He squeezed my cheeks until I squeaked. He chuckled and slid his hands back up to my breasts, and stroked my nipples again. I arched my back and moaned softly.

"Finish your dinner now," he said, gently dismissing me. I made a small, disappointed noise in my throat but resumed my seat, reaching shakily for the wine again, and taking a deep drink.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked plaintively.

"Because it pleases me," he answered.

I knew I should be angry. A small voice in my head was seething at Mark's sudden, strangely distant behavior. But at the same time the look on his face, so possessive, heated me all the way down. I bit my lip in puzzlement.

"Don't do that," he scolded. "Your mouth is so lovely...keep it open for me."

"That makes it kind of hard to eat," I laughed, trying to hide another shiver.

"Alright," he smiled, "I'll concede that point." He went back to his dinner. I stared at him for a moment, confused by his behavior. He continued to eat, seemingly ignoring me. With a mental shrug, I finished my veal, too.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, until the waiter appeared to clear the table and serve coffee. I inhaled the rich aroma, and savored the warmth, hoping it would clear my head a little bit.

The waiter returned again, carrying pretty glass dishes with fruit and ice cream. He placed them on the table, artfully setting them alight before quietly departing once more. I laughed in delight; I'd never had cherries jubilee before. Mark watched me and smiled that possessive smile again.

Feeling slightly more composed, I decided it was time to exact some revenge. I scooped up a juicy cherry with my spoon, caught Mark's eye, and ever so slowly sucked it up with my lips. Then I made an elaborate show of delicately licking up the ice cream. He watched me with rapt attention as I nibbled a second cherry, letting the juice trickle down my chin and licking it away with my tongue. I scooped up a third cherry, gave it a little kiss, and leaned forward, offering it to him with my spoon. He smiled and leaned forward to receive it, sitting back to chew it thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Now you've had my cherry," I teased, in a husky voice.

Mark raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I could see the pulse in his neck beat a little harder, though. We finished dessert with the same unnerving silence.

Mark took a deep breath, rose, and came behind me to pull back my chair. As I stood he slid his hands around my waist and up to cup my breasts and rub my nipples again. He leaned down to run kisses along my neck. I went up on tiptoe so I could rub my ass against his crotch. He was already hard. I reached back and pulled his hips tight against me.

"I am so tempted" he whispered in my ear, "to bend you over this table and have you right now." I wriggled in encouragement. "Would you like that, you little tease?"

"Mmmmmm, yes," I breathed, rocking my hips against him.

He sidestepped me to the clear side of the table. He raised my skirt, slid my panties slowly down over my ass, and pushed my feet apart with a tap of his toes. I felt him unbutton his trousers and heard the zipper softly slide open. It occurred to me to worry about the waiter's next appearance, but if Mark was willing to risk it, so was I. All I really cared about right now was having him inside me. He gave me a gentle push to bend me over. I wiggled forward a bit so my hips took the weight off my toes, raising my ass higher in the air. I waited, breathless, for him to enter me.

I gasped with surprise when, instead of his cock, he probed me with his fingers. Either he was very empathetic, I thought, or he'd been watching me much more closely than I'd imagined this afternoon. He found all my most sensitive places and pillaged them mercilessly.

He had me grinning and wriggling, right on the verge of orgasm, when he finally plunged his cock deep inside with one smooth thrust. My head flew back in shock and almost-pain. He was so big that I could feel him slam into my cervix! I wiggled on the table to try to slip away from him, but he held my hips fast and pumped into me.

"I warned you, greedy girl, that you'd get more than you bargained for," he said hoarsely.

I struggled to take him, to relax and accept every inch of him, but I hurt. I tightened up reflexively, and his fingers dug into my hips in appreciation. I whimpered in pain and sudden fear. He leaned over me, slipping out just a bit, and nibbled my ear and neck. The pain transformed into delicious heat as he slid his fingers up to fondle my nipples, teasing them and squeezing my breasts.

"I never realized that pain could feel so good," I murmured.

He froze inside me in mid stroke. "What do you mean, Amy?" he asked, carefully.

"You're so big, it really does hurt, or it did at first," I tried to explain, my voice thick with pleasure, "but now it's changing with everything else you're doing. It still hurts, but it doesn't...you're making me sooo hot."

As if to prove it to himself, he pulled me away from the table and slid his hand along my pussy lips, fingers probing for my clit. Simultaneously he squeezed my clit and nipple. I stifled a shriek and accidentally pushed myself deeper onto him. My whole body tensed with pain, my orgasm suddenly tearing through me. My pussy throbbed and Mark cried out. With a final thrust he came into me, grinding his hips and making my back arch in reaction. I whimpered as my orgasm seemed to double and double again.

I collapsed on the table, trembling in reaction. My head was spinning and tears were running freely down my cheeks. Mark dropped onto my chair. We held our places for several breathless minutes. Mark stood again, and I could hear him reassembling himself. I lost track for another few moments, until I felt my panties being lifted up along my thighs and slid back into place. He dropped my skirt and coaxed me into his lap, kissing me tenderly and brushing my tears away.

"I'm so sorry, Amy, I didn't mean for that to happen," he apologized, holding me to him and smoothing my hair.

I held my finger to his lips and shook my head gently.

"No, Mark, no," I soothed him, showering his face with light kisses. "I knew exactly what I was getting into, or what was getting into me," I chuckled, "when I went down on you yesterday." I took a deep breath. "I realized you were, um, a lot bigger than anyone I've ever been with before. I wasn't sure what would happen, but I wanted you no matter what. The thing is," I licked my lips before continuing carefully," I had no idea I could ever cum like that! Now I know what they mean by 'hurts so good.'"

Mark held my face in his hands and looked at me intently. "You really mean that, don't you?"

I blushed deeply (I had to stop doing that!), and looked away from him. "You probably think that's pretty twisted, don't you?"

"Look at me," he demanded. The tone of his voice drew my eyes back to his. "There are many ways to experience pleasure, Amy. Some of them are more difficult to understand at first, but what matters most is what you feel, not what anyone else thinks about it. It's your body." He kissed me gently. "And what a delightful body it is. You're full of surprises!" He ran a finger over my lips, making me shiver involuntarily. He smiled at me, a gleam in his eye.

"Well, for what it's worth," I declared, trying to make things normal again, "that's the best dinner I've ever had, especially dessert!"