Instant Agreements

The beautiful younger redhead slowly lifted her leg over my head and lowered her milky, round ass and gleaming bright pink pussy as she straddled my face and she simultaneously sank her luscious lips onto my throbbing cock as we sank into a glorious sixty-nine position, perhaps the most intimate lovemaking act of all. The fireplace next to us crackled, snapped and popped, adding to the warmth radiating from our bodies on the floor next to the fire. Outside, the swirling snow began to fall harder, the pelts of sleet snapping and pinging against the skylight on the ceiling.

We had just met for the first time, quite by accident, about forty-five minutes before this.

And I still didn't even know her name.

So, then, perhaps I should pick up from the beginning, eh........?

"What's the worst that could happen?", I thought to myself as I not-so-surreptitiously surveyed her exquisitely shaped buttocks in the impossibly tight designer jeans as she leaned over the rack of California chardonnays and pondered my introductory conversational topic.

Not to split nits, but her ass was rounder than I typically prefer. She was a tall, athletic-looking young woman with some extra meat on the bones, to use a less than charitable phrase, I suppose, but that's how men describe such a full-bodied woman. Not fat, not by a long shot, but I guess the clinical term that could best describe her body type would be 'mesomorphic', which is just a fancy synonym for 'big-boned'.

But the way she filled out those skin-tight designer jeans was a synonym for 'spectacular'.

Yep, there was just SOMETHING about her, she was incredibly sexy in that subtly slutty yet innocent way that only redheads can pull off, and apparently, by the admiring ogles and stares of virtually all of the male patrons stocking up for the impending blizzard within the busy Wine and Spirits store, my opinion was not a unilateral one.

Facially, she bore a rather striking resemblance to Julianne Moore, pale creamy skin augmented by light brown eyes with a few bangs of her perfectly coiffed silky auburn hair drooping down her forehead onto her eyelashes so that she was brushing her locks away from her eyes every few seconds. (Do women know how sexy we men find that little gesture? They must, why else would they do it?)

She wore a tight cropped light brown leather jacket that was unzipped, revealing a more-than-proportionate chest that was tucked behind an untucked light green button-down blouse that resembled a man's dress shirt, with the top two buttons undone to flash her milky white skin covered in a splattering of adorable freckles. (I'm a complete sucker for a redhead with freckle tits, with perhaps Carrot Top being a notable exception.)

Her knee-high leather boots matched her jacket in hue, and they appeared molded to her legs. The jeans fit her so snugly one who was closely examining her, such as I was, could easily ascertain that her legs were lean yet muscular, even through the denim encasement.

Again, I thought to myself, what's the worst that could happen? I was going to strike up a conversation, and so what if I got rebuffed? After all, I would still have a bottle or two of wine and my lab puppy to keep me company on this snowy night. But, that wouldn't make for a good story to post on 'Literotica', now, would it?

She already sensed that I was watching her, and I saw a small smile of bemusement curl on the corner of her lips as I approached from her side, as if "Oh, boy, here we go again." She was leaning over the shelf now, fondling a bottle of Clos du Bois with her manicured finger tips, her ass cheeks suspended upward. I was certain, not by coincidence.

"Pleasures?", I asked softly.

She rose and turned to face me, still holding the tasty bottle of choice. She was nearly the same height as me with her heels, and she looked me in the eye with a mixture of inquisitiveness, curiosity, and perhaps a small hint of disdain.

"Pardon me?"

I smiled at her reassuringly and returned her gaze, moving imperceptibly closer, just a tad into her personal space comfort zone.

"Your perfume. It's lovely. Befitting of the woman." She returned my smile, almost in spite of herself. I elaborated. "Is it 'Pleasures', by Estee Lauder, I'm guessing?"

She looked me up and down now, taking inventory of my intentions and attributes in that way that a woman does when she knows she is being hit on, yet is somewhat impressed by the opening line. "Very good, very good, are you a connoisseur of scents?" I nodded in false humility.

"But you're only half-right, actually. I have on more than one perfume, a mix of sorts. Care to try for the daily double, Kreskin?"

She was spunky, I should have known, after all, she was a redhead. Game on.

I leaned in even closer to her now so that our bodies almost touched, and I lifted my face inches from her neck and inhaled gently, noticing the small goose bumps that formed on her skin as I did so. I smiled inwardly at this revelation. I retracted slowly and wrinkled my brow as if deciphering a chemistry experiment.

"These combinations are tough, you know, tricky, even for a 'connoisseur' such as myself. However, I'm going to go out on a limb and say...", I hesitated for dramatic effect, although I had a pretty good idea my hunch was correct. "Sensuous, your other scent is Estee Lauder's, 'Sensuous'. How'd I do?"

Her pretty face lit up in unabashed glee. "That's remarkable, how did you do that?" Her gaze into my eyes was more intent now, more focused. More...interested. "Have you been peeking into my dresser drawers?" I wish I could peek at things in your dresser drawers, I thought.

"Ah, a true magician can never reveal his trade secrets, but let's just say I take delight in all things beautiful." She blushed. I love it when they blush.

"Plus, a little confession, I kinda cheated." She looked at me quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "Come closer and I can whisper a hint to you." I looked around conspiratorially, as if I were about to consort on a matter of national security.

She played along, sincerely intrigued by now. (I love it when they blush first, and then they become sincerely intrigued.)

My lips almost grazed her earlobe. "I'm a department store manager. I manage the Boscov's at the mall. I whiff scents almost every hour of the day."

She giggled, and unconsciously began to fondle the neck of the wine bottle with her long fingers. "Oh, so that's why you approached me, so you could test your tactile expertise on me?"

Spunky, more spunk. I like that. So, I saw her spunk, and raised her, all in.

"No, I approached you because your ass looks sublime in those great jeans."

She wasn't expecting that level of spunk, and recoiled momentarily. This was the crossroads, the moment of truth, that would go a long way in determining whether my puppy and I would spend a quiet night together, alone, or Literotica would have fodder for a great story.

Her soft reply was measured and succinct. "Thank you", she said simply. Our eyes bore into one another's, and the seconds of mutual silence actually broke the ice. Her light brown eyes twinkled and encouraged me silently to take the lead in our verbal dance. I had a distinct intuition that my dog would not get my unfettered attention this evening.

I barely whispered now, leaning ever so closer so that our torsos almost touched. "In fact, those must be magic jeans", I suggested. She furrowed her brow, not understanding my intent. We had quickly reached another crossroads.

I lowered my gaze and implored her to follow my downward glance to my own crotch. "Because look at the ruckus they're causing in my own pants."

She looked down and watched for lingering seconds as my cock twitched beneath my suit pants, the unmistakable outline of my erection inching upward and hanging to the right, snaking towards my belt buckle.

At times like this, I can honestly say that my Below-The-Waist alter-ego takes on a mind of its own. Basically, my decision-making executive board consists of three Committee members: From-The-Heart, Between-The-Ears, and Below-The-Waist.

Below-The-Waist was winning this internal debate in landslide, and when the comely redhead raised her head to look me in the eyes with a lustful smile on her face, it was evident that she was ready to cast her vote.

Confidence is a big cock.

"I have a 'yes' or 'no' question for you," I said, positioning myself so that our pelvises met, oblivious to the envious glances from the other male customers in this aisle of the liquor store.

"Go ahead," she cooed softly, shifting her hips and easing forward a bit so that her crotch grinded into my own.

My mouth was so close to her neck now I could feel the indentations of those growing goose bumps.

"Do you believe the first kiss is an indicator of what kind of lovers two people will be?"

Her reply was to agonizingly slowly ease her pursed lips onto mine and we kissed, softly at first, tentatively, and then our kiss escalated into a deep, passionate, probing, explorative tongue dance as my hand eased up beneath her leather jacket and softly cupped her ample breast over the cotton blouse, feeling her nipple respond and rise to my touch.

We reluctantly released. Her eyes reopened and she emitted a soft moan.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

We agreed on a number of key points of order in the next few minutes.

We agreed that we were both irretrievably turned on and aroused, and we desperately needed to fuck. Now.

We agreed first that we would continue this conversation at my townhouse after discovering that we lived in the same complex.

We agreed on two bottles of the Clos du Bois and a bonus bottle of Australian Shiraz, and we would lick the nectar off of each other's bodies throughout the night.

We agreed that for the sake of the sheer eroticism of it all, that we would not share names until we had fully consummated our desires. Until such time, we would only be identifiable by such notable landmarks as cock, tongue, pussy, and tits. This worked out well, we didn't get lost once.

And, we agreed that we would initially indulge in our mutual oral fixations as soon as we reached my house, as I loved the sweetly unique taste of a redheads' pussy and she craved for the sensation of a big cock stuffing her mouth.

And that brings us full-circle to the beginning of our little love story, the genesis of our spirited sixty-nine entwinement, that led into an all-night marathon sexual assembly for two.

Oh, yes, lest I forget. We agreed the next morning that since we had just shared a wake-up session that included prolonged sucking, vigorous fucking, sensual tit-fucking, and culminated with her shrieks bouncing off my walls and ceilings as my cock reamed her incredibly tight anal cavity, that we should finally, formally, introduce ourselves.

Hi, Kathi. My name is John. Nice to meet you. May I watch and pull your gorgeous hair into a ponytail as you bury my cock into your mouth once again, please?

We agreed that we must do this again and again, and we have been doing just that, fucking for weeks now, almost every night.

Last but certainly not least, we've agreed that soon, very soon, we are going to go on-line and find us a suitable partner to have a threesome, but we'll share no names, strictly a wanton, anonymous carnal encounter.

We haven't yet decided, though, whether it should be a MMF or a FFM. Any volunteers, readers?

Hey, c'mon, we can't agree on EVERYTHING. Viva la difference!