Foreplay

She got invited to dinner and she dressed for the occasion in a nice, knee-length blue denim skirt and a white peasant blouse. Her cork sandals complimented her delicate feet, her toes painted red decorated with a few silver toe rings. Nervously, she reached up and touched a few of the curls falling from a deliberately messy ponytail, moving them to the side, a needless move since they were supposed to look messy. She shook her head, wondering why she was so nervous. She had been out with this guy about six times already. They knew each other well, they’d been friends for a long time and when he’d asked her out on a date, it had felt very natural and not weird at all.

But now, it felt weird… well, what felt really weird was the sexual tension that had never been there before. Take two nights ago for example. They’d been out with their regular group of friends, people she knew through work that he’d known since college. After watching the basketball game and downing quite a few drinks, the conversation had, as it usually did, turned to sex. And he had decided now would be the perfect time to let everyone, including her, in on his plans for his next date with this great girl he had been seeing. She had laughed off his outrageously detailed sexual plans, fully aware of the fact that no one knew about their dates, but deep down inside, she had been shaken to her core with excitement. Some of the things he’d said, the way he’d described what he would do… made her toes curl from excitement.

And to add insult to injury, he’d called her the previous night and had caressed her entire being, physical, spiritual and otherwise, with his words and his innuendoes until she thought she would literally explode. And by the time she’d been nothing more than a quivering, panting and most definitely wanting mess, he’d wished her a very good night, leaving her high and anything but dry. In that moment, she’d hated him with every fiber of her being.

But now, after fifteen hours and twenty-eight minutes of wanting him more than anything in her life, she was ready for him to make good on all of the promises he’d made her in front of all of their friends on Friday night… she had a strong desire for him to make Sunday her favorite day again… she yearned for him to make her toes curl until her toenails dug into the soles of her feet, no matter not well trimmed her toenails were.

She fanned herself for a moment… she couldn’t see him with sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip, tongue licking her trembling lips. She had to be calm, cool and incredibly collected when she opened the door to him and his sensual promises.

The doorbell rang and she took the time to gently blot her face before opening her door to him. He was looking very good in his black suit and dark burgundy shirt, his dark hair curling on the jacket collar.

“Oh,” she said, reaching up to touch her bare collar bone, “am I underdressed for the occasion?”

“Most definitely not. You are, as always, just perfectly dressed.”

“Good… I do aim to please.”

“And to be pleased?” “I leave that portion of the evening up to you.”

He chuckled into the shell of her ear in response before licking it. Reveling in her responsive shiver, he led her to his car and opened the door for her. As he walked around the car, he never took his eyes off her and slid in by her side, starting the car and driving down the street before laying a proprietary hand on the knee her short skirt had left bare by riding up her thighs.

“You know,” he whispered in his bedroom-perfect voice, “there is nothing sexier than a woman willing to go the extra mile to actually please herself.”

“Don’t you mean watching a woman go the extra mile to please herself?”

“Far be it from me to say that watching a woman masturbate…” he paused then, letting that word hang in the air between them, “… isn’t very sexy… however, the mere thought of a woman touching herself, of those delicately slim fingers probing that rose in just the perfect way, of the look on her face when she surprises herself at the pleasure she can give her own self… and the knowledge that she’s doing it for no one but herself… now that redefines sexy…”

“And if… just if, I were to start doing it to myself right now?” she asked, slowly inching up the hem of her skirt.

“I’d drive both of us off the road…”

“Well, I did get into this for the new experiences…”

“Never mind… anyhow you and I aren’t getting off the beaten path before much later tonight.”

“Oh really… and what does that mean for me?”

“That those cute little sandals of yours will have to remain in my car…”

“Mmmmmmmmm… that might be a good thing…”

“Oh… it is…”

At the look in his eyes and from the way he squeezed her knee, she couldn’t help an excited giggle…

“I’ll have the filet mignon with the baked potato and garden vegetables please,” she told the waiter with a warm smile.

“And how do you want the meat?”

“Medium well done please.”

“Sounds good to me,” her dinner companion added, “I’ll have the same.”

“You know,” she said, leaning over the table as soon as the waiter left them alone, “there is nothing I hate more than a man without any imagination.”

“After last night, you think I have no imagination? Now that hurts.”

“I am so sure it doesn’t.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. Just gives me a reason to want to try to impress you…”

“Which you do.”

“I know…”

“You do?”

“Darling, a woman who gets that wet, that fast, doesn’t get that wet for no reason. And I like to believe that I am that reason.”

“That wet? Do I get wetter than other women?”

“Yes.”

“Oh… and is that a bad thing?” she asked, insecurity flashing in her eyes.

“No… it’s a rare pleasure to see a woman enjoying your ministrations that much… a very arousing thing.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t,” he whispered, “ever doubt your ability to turn me on… that insecurity of yours… that awesome wetness… I was thinking of that last night and on Friday night when I was telling everyone what I was going to do to you, I was thinking of all those sexy aspects of your personality that only I know about.”

“Only you? You do realize I wasn’t a virgin when I first got into bed with you?”

“Yes… but do you know that whoever tried pleasing you before couldn’t get anywhere near the way I’m pleasing you?”

“Conceit is always a turn off.”

“Mmmmm, so tell me… did you happen to read Michael Moore’s Stupid White Men?”

“A friend of mine got it and is going to lend it to me once she’s done reading it. Is it any good?”

“Oh yeah…”

As the conversation got more and more intellectual, she relaxed and her feet curled around her chair legs as she leaned forward over her salad and traded opinions with her dinner date. She was so lost in the conversation that when she felt his toe run along her bare leg that she all but fell right out of her chair. Her eyes wide, she stared at him as he kept on his discourse, not looking the least bit disturbed by this latest bit of sensual torture he was now plying on her. But she was disturbed and seriously so. Not only did his toe’s movement on her calf seem incredibly confident and firm but his foot didn’t feel rough on her skin. Even when he ran the top of his foot over her tibia, she was surprised at how soft his foot felt. His toenails were clipped and his cuticles were non-existent, making her shiver with delight.

“Stop,” she hissed at him.

“No.”

“I’m about to scream here.”

“Hold it in.”

“I can’t!”

“Try…”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to stop herself from screaming as his foot, his foot of all things, thrilled her to no end. And every time she thought she had herself under control, she felt his toe inch up higher and higher until it disappeared under her skirt. Trying to keep herself from screaming as he got closer and closer to her first climax was one thing, but maintaining her intelligent half of the situation, that was something else. Words flew out of her mouth faster than she could make sense out of them and he often tilted his head to the site, patting her hand, letting her know she had said something completely ridiculous and nonsensical. She tried returning the favor but she couldn’t keep her focus. She continuously found her self-control wavering until she felt his toe at the apex of her thighs. Then she gave up all pretenses of control and gave in to the wondrous feelings his toe, his toe of all things, was bringing about in her.

The surprising digit then sunk right into the damp gusset of her panties and she gasped loudly enough for some of the other dinners to look at her in askance. She covered by coughing, as if she had choked on something and by the time she recovered, his toes… his wonderful toes were working hard… very hard at removing her small lace panties. She resisted initially tensing her muscles to stop his dangerous progress until he leaned forward and trapped her fingers in his hand, bringing the tips up to his very full mouth. Then, she watched, dazed, as he licked the tips of her fingers right where the skin met the nails, a conspicuous erogenous zone if there ever was one. She gave into the sensuality of the moment, her body becoming languid and liquid from the pleasure he plied with his mouth and tongue.

Then, as she stared at him rather blankly, she saw him tuck a scrap of black satin into his jacket’s breast pocket.

“What was that?” she asked him.

“Your panties…” he grinned as his big toe dug inside her humid folds.

“Oh, you rat! Ooooh, I could just…”

“Cum?”

“I will not…”

“Oh, you might not want to in order to preserve your good girl image but as a woman burning to explore her sensuality and her daring, you want to quite badly.”

“You are so cocky…”

“What an appropriate choice of words.”

“Bite me!”

“Say lick me instead.”

The tip of his toe grazed over her engorged clitoris right then and there and surprised her with its versatility. He watched her grip on her control melt away like ice in the Sahara desert and waited with bated breath for her to allow herself to tumble over into desire. He moved his toes slowly, never letting her know if he would go left or right, up or down, in or out, until she relaxed completely. She managed to bring her elbow up to the top of the table and rested her cheek on her fisted hand, shielding part of her face as her mouth opened is a silent scream of utter delight. She shook almost imperceptibly and ran a ragged hand through her hair before looking up at him, her dinner now cold and long forgotten.

“What do you do for an encore?”

To Be Continued...