Anticipation Ch. 04

Over the course of the next eight or so weeks, we toned things down a bit: an odd thing to say about two people who had not even kissed yet, but we did a little less eye-gazing and face-touching.

We talked more about daily things, remembering that other people existed. We went some places, but not many, since we were both homebodies at heart.

Our lives were pretty "normal", but there were fantastic moments here and there.

Every Sunday morning, I stood in the shower, over a trash can, and used electric hair clippers to shave my head and face, leaving bristle as short as I could get it, and then usually razor shaved my face.

It did not take long for her to notice the pattern, and on one Saturday night, as I was sitting at the table finishing a snack, she walked up behind me, started pushing her fingertips across my scalp and cheeks.

She brushed against the grain far more often than not, and then she said, "I want to shave you."

It was a little fantasy come true. I had always wanted an attractive woman to lovingly shave my face, but shaving my head as well was a nice bonus.

Neither of us cared too much for clothes shopping, but one of her tee dresses got ripped, so she wanted to get a new one.

I was certainly happy to go with her, but the truly delightful surprise was when she said, "You choose one."

"Me?"

She moved in front of me and looked me in the eyes. "Yeah. We both like basically the same stuff. I figure I'm dressing for you anyway. It might as well be what you want to see me wearing."

That moment was essentially what began a later practice of both of us often deciding what the other would wear every weekend, and eventually, some games of dress up.

I chose a little cotton tee dress that flared out just a little around the hips. When she spun around, it did not fly up high enough to show anything off, but it was loose enough to sway when she walked. It came to slightly lower than the mid point of her upper thigh.

I just absolutely loved when she wore her badass leather boots with it, but it worked with all of her shoes.

One day she wore it with her flats, which she always took off when she was in the apartment.

We were both sitting on the couch watching something. I was in my usual spot on the left end, and that time she was on the right end, laying against the arm, with her bare feet in my lap.

I was mindlessly playing with her feet and toes, when she drew one leg up to let it be in a different position for a while.

I thought nothing of it, at first, but I happened to glance over, and I noticed that her panties were exposed.

A little smile formed on my face and I made repeated side glances so as to not be obvious that I was looking up her dress.

I became aroused, and without realizing it, I began lightly rubbing her heel against my bulge.

A smile creeped across her face, and then she turned her head to look at me. I looked up at her a moment, then again at the white material for a second, and then back up at her.

"I can see your panties," I said with just a hint of mischief.

Her raised knee bounced sideways by just the tiniest fraction of an inch; a twitch really, as a desire to spread her legs and show me more was quickly stifled on an unconscious level.

"I can tell," she said, then playfully pushed her heel gently against the side of my bulge.

Whatever we were watching had just ended, and she swung both feet over to stand up off the couch. I watched her hips and bare thighs as she passed in front of me, moving a bit more slowly than the normally walked.

She rounded my corner of the couch, and seemed to slow a bit further. I extended a finger, and lifted the hem of her dress.

I got only a tiny flash of her front, a lot of her upper thigh, and fair amount of her nicely round bottom, before she had moved beyond my reach, causing the material to fall back into place to hide everything again.

I faced the TV again, replaying the view in my mind, and adjusted my boner.

A few seconds later, I heard the water in the kitchen turn on. She had apparently decided to wash the dishes of the previous meal.

I stood up and walked around the couch to see her standing with bare feet flat on the linoleum, which was another tremendously sexy picture, though I would not have been able to explain why.

I came up behind her, placed my hands on her hips and touch my head to the back of hers. She continued as normal handling the dishes.

I slowly moved the tips of my fingers down over the material of the dress, stopping when I had made contact with skin. She was unfazed.

I began tracing upward, the material collecting against my fingers. She did not waver.

I continued up until I felt the material of the waistband of those little white cotton panties. I secured either side between my fingers and thumbs, and then started a slow glide downward.

She inhaled suddenly, but faintly. The clink of dishes paused briefly, then continued.

Along the way down, I could feel the weak tension of the crotch caught lightly in the creases where her thighs meet her groin.

She made a very quiet sound that told me that she instinctively wanted to spread her thighs to let it release, but that she was refraining from doing so in order to maintain her façade of stoicism.

The material stretched further, making me wonder if they were going to break free at all, but then they suddenly released, causing her to inhale a bit more sharply than before.

I drew them down as far as I could reach without removing my forehead from the back of her head. They were still hidden beneath her dress, but only barely.

I release the waistband and withdrew my hands, allowing the dress to fall back into place. I traced up her hips and along where the waistband had been, bringing deliberate attention to the fact that it was no longer there.

Though not visible, she was exposed.

I took a half-step backward, my head parting from hers, and ran one fingertip up her spine and then down again, noting the evidence that she was wearing a bra; a fact which I had found a bit disappointing, at that moment.

My fingers, in synch once again, traveled down her thighs and over the bump of her waistband. I began lowering myself to one knee as my fingers continued, passing over the edge of material and onto her bare flesh.

Lightly down the sides of her legs, over her ankle bones like a feather, along the outer edge of the soles of her feet, and then back along the same path.

As I reached the hem of the dress, I placed my forehead gently against the crease of her buttocks, just below her tailbone. I nodded my head only about an inch, to brush the area downward, then upward, and then parted again.

My fingers continued upward beneath her dress until they found the waistband once more, and then I held the material as delicately as I could, trying to avoid having contact with her skin, as I slowly lowered her panties further down her legs.

When I was sure they were down far enough, I let go, allowing them to fall down around her ankles on their own.

I raised myself and just stood behind her for about a minute, not touching her at all.

As quietly as I could, I walked to the opposite side of the dining table, lifted the chair enough to raise it off the floor, so as to not cause the sound of dragging, and pulled it back far enough for me to sit down.

I sat watching her.

She did a pretty good job of acting like nothing was abnormal. She fumbled with a dish a couple of times, but nothing significant. I notice a few ever-so-slight twitches of her head as she stopped herself from looking over to me, but she never moved her feet.

As she put the last wet dish in the drain rack, I got up from my chair and returned to the couch, with her behind me.

I adjusted my erection, and watched TV. Soon, she reappeared, sat down next to me, and leaned in close.

When a commercial had come on, I got up to make a quick trip to the bathroom. I glanced over at the kitchen floor and saw her panties still there, exactly were they had fallen.

In the bathroom, as I pulled my underwear front down to pee, it was obvious that I had pre-came in them. It was becoming a pretty regular thing.

When I finished in the bathroom, I returned to her side, and we went the rest of the night as normal, except that I had the delicious knowledge that she was sitting next to me wearing no underwear under her short dress.

It was time for her to go, when the show was over. She had work the next day, and she needed to get some sleep.

We said nothing. She reached up and lovingly slid her left palm down the side of my left cheek and the pushed herself off of the couch.

She slipped her feet into her flats, grabbed her keys, opened the door, walked through, and then quietly shut it again, never looking back.

I exhaled heavily, not realizing that I had barely been breathing.

I turned off the TV, went to the kitchen and picked her panties up off the floor. After only a little internal debate, I pressed the crotch against my nostrils and inhaled deeply.

It was a magnificent scent. I groaned and bit the material between my teeth, pulling down with my hand until it was taunt, then immediately released it from my bite, so that the material snapped back like a slingshot.

I brushed my teeth, disrobed, and climbed into bed, with her panties on the night table.

My erection returned with thoughts of her touching herself while driving home.

I licked my palm and spread my pre-cum around the head of my cock.

Perhaps she would arrive at her apartment, unlock the door, and walk straight to her bedroom.

I worked my shaft up and down; intermittently massaging the cap.

Maybe, in a desperate haste, she would clumsily throw her dress up over her head and off, releasing it mid-air, not caring where it landed.

I stroked faster, feeling the intensity build in my pelvis.

And then perhaps she would fall onto her bed as her fingers furiously massaged her clit.

My eyes rolled backwards and my hips bobbed.

And because she had already been aroused more than she had ever been, it would take only seconds for her to feel the overwhelming crash of an orgasm.

I inhaled sharply, my hips raised high off the bed and then erupted with an intensity the like of which I had not previously experienced.

I felt warm semen land on my chest and leg. Some cascaded over my fingers.

"Oh shit, " I exhaled, and then started to catch my breath.

After a moment, I thought to myself, I really should have prepped for that.

After about a thirty second period of recovery, still gripping my penis, and looked around to see what kind of mess I made on my bed cover.

I noticed three globs. I looked around for something to use to wipe up, but nothing but her panties were nearby, however, I did not want to use them for that.

I milked the rest of the cum out of my shaft, then carefully got off the bed and made my way to the bathroom where I took a quick shower.

After that, I got some paper towels from the kitchen to wipe up what was on the bed, as best I could. I was definitely going to have to wash that the next day.

I put on a pair of boxer briefs and experienced another one of the best night's sleep I've ever had.

I never inquired as to what she had actually done that night, and she did not volunteer anything. If it didn't happen like I imagined, then I didn't really want to know.