First Meeting

It was my second day in New Orleans. The Big Easy. Land of Carnival and birthplace of Jazz. Of swamps, vampires, witches, werewolves and Voodoo. Or so the television would have me to believe. Maybe it is all those things too, but I haven't seen them yet. Instead I see colour and life and the tremendous bustle of people, speaking in all kinds of tongues amidst a clatter of noise and the smell of spice. What ever it might be, it is most certainly a far cry from England.

Still a little jet-lagged, I'd opted for an easy day - a short wander along part of main street before quickly retreating into a small cafe. With mild trepidation, I had earlier accepted an invitation to join a man for dinner, and it is here, that the story truly starts.

I'm sitting in the restaurant, not enjoying particularly enjoying myself on this "date". The man in front of me (whose name I have forgotten once again) is perfectly pleasant, but somewhat self-absorbed and kinda boring. Thirty minutes in and I feel that I've spent the entire time nodding and smiling politely. I look around the room, seeing all the other diners, watching the different couples, some relaxed, some leaning into one another, some clearly dealing with more tense discussions. Everything is so very ordinary and unremarkable, just as you would imagine seeing in any restaurant anywhere in the world. Apart from one table. This table is different because there's just one person sitting at it. Tall, handsome, almost magnetic with confidence. And looking back at me. I smile shyly, and quickly avert my gaze, not believing that he, that you could really be looking at me.

I try to focus on the guy in front of me, but I can feel you staring at me. I look up, and you're looking at me like a predator eyes prey. I glance to my sides, but there doesn't seem to be any one else you could be looking at,. However, I really can't fathom why you would be looking at me. Feeling brave I try to hold your gaze, but it's too powerful and I shyly look away again.

No matter what I do, I can not seem to stop looking over at you, unable to shake the feeling that your stare has not moved. I catch your eye again and smile, almost like the guy in front of me has ceased to exist, (not that he seems to have noticed), but your expression doesn't change. Your mystery and calm intrigues me, excites me and infuriates me slightly in that I still quite determine what you could possibly be after.

I take a sip of my water, and out of the corner of my eyes, I see that you're moving, getting closer. My breath catches slightly, watching you move with confidence, grace and the air of a leopard. My eyes widen in surprise as I realise that you're actually coming for me, but it is only when you stop beside the table, that my companion clocks your presence.

"Excuse me..." he begins, making as if to stand and challenge you. Tell you to back off or something, as if he would stand a chance.

You ignore him completely. No words, no looks. It's as if with all your confidence and power, he just doesn't exist. Instead, you take my hand and pull me to my feet.

To say my companion and I are shocked, would be an understatement, but I can't deny how exciting it feels. My stomach all tied in knots, heart pounding, skin flushed red with desire and anticipation.

Without any words, you gently tilt my chin and force me to look at you, forcing my timid and shy brown eyes to stare into soulful eyes that speak of storms in the ocean, a sensual blue-grey colour that has me completely enchanted. My lips part slightly as I try to catch my breath, and that's when you claim them for your own, kissing me firmly and passionately, making me feel completely possessed, until you finally allow me to breathe.

I stare at you in amazement, knowing my date is getting angry and churlish, but all I can hear is my heart pounding, all I can feel is the hot glow of desire, and all I can see is you.

Still not saying a word, you lead me away from the restaurant and into the ladies bathroom. My mouth opens to protest and the women inside shriek, telling you to leave.

"Out."

One simple word. Firm, quiet and brokering no argument. Any further objections are quelled as you speak that one simple word. There are some unhappy, angry glares, but they all exit the restroom, leaving me completely at your mercy.

"What exactly do you want?" I whisper, unable to really speak, still only able to make the briefest moments of eye contact with you. Whatever it is, I have no doubt that I will want to give it to you.

You chuckle softly, and once again, force me to look into your eyes, mesmerising me with that intense stare.

"You" you say, before kissing me again, searing my very soul, stamping yourself upon my heart like a brand.

You push me back against the wall, feeling me trembling against you, knowing that I'm still too timid and shy to move. You place my hand against the bulge in your jeans, and I gasp, beginning to slowly rub my fingers along the length as best I can.

You begin kissing my neck and I whimper against you, chest heaving as my breath catches, and I worry that you can feel my breasts pressing against you through the soft, summer blouse I'm wearing. Almost as if you read my mind, as one hand tenderly holds my head, the other snakes up from lightly touching my waist to teasingly caress my breasts.

I gasp again, still stunned by your boldness, but as you begin to touch my breasts more firmly, something inside my head and heart finally breaks free. I reach up and tangle my hands against your neck, suddenly kissing you back hungrily and playfully.

You break away for a moment and smile down at me, as if you knew what was hiding inside all along, before kissing me again, kissing my neck and opening my blouse, pulling down the cups of my plain white bra to expose my hard nipples.

I ignore the voices in my head, telling me to stop, that this is wrong, that I don't even know your name, and abandon myself to my desire. I pull your shirt out of your waistband, sliding my hands up along the inside, leaving feather-light fingertips across your taut muscles, resting my palms against your chest as your teeth suddenly graze against my sensitive breasts. My head is flung back as I arch against you, unable to stop my nails gripping at your chest, silently begging you to play with my tender mounds as firmly as you want.

Suddenly you spin me round, leading me to the wash basin, and helping me up. Your hands push up my skirt, your fingers tracing lazily up my legs and skimming my thighs, whilst mine tremble, trying to undo your trousers, eliciting the smallest of groans from you as my hands press against your erection. I shiver and moan, surprised, pleased and incredibly aroused to know that somehow, my touch has the same maddening, exciting effect on you as yours does on me.

You push your trousers and boxers down, and I gasp at the cock you reveal, a moment of hesitation as I contemplate whether I can handle such a size, although I know that I can't stop you. That I don't want to. That I want to take every inch of it into my body in any way that might please you.

You pull down my wet lace shorts and smile, and I feel the sudden urge to close my legs, as if reason is trying to encroach, as if I briefly remember who I am and how I normally behave.

"Don't," you whisper against my ear, kissing my neck and caressing my breasts as you gently push my legs apart with yours. It's not a command, but it might as well be.

I moan, and looking into your eyes, you know that you have me completely and utterly under your control

"Fais-moi l'amour," I whisper with sudden boldness, the only little bit of French I learned for my trip to Louisiana, seemingly, for you. "Fais-moi l'amour."

You groan again, but with sudden restraint, begin teasing my wet pussy, slowly coating the head of your cock with the moistness that has already escaped, and you allow your thumb to lightly brush against my clit as your lips begin to devour my breasts again.

"Ohmigod" I gasp, almost ready to explode with pleasure already, my fingers curling, nails digging into the hard muscles of your shoulders.

"Not yet," you chuckle, as I clasp my hands around your neck again.

You slowly slide a finger inside and I whimper, desperate to cum as you make that 'come here' motion inside me.

I squirm, desperate to come but unwilling to do so before you're truly inside me.

"Fais-moi l'amour," I say again, begging this time and I look into your eyes. "Fais-moi l'amour," I whisper, with a strange, sexy confidence, and a brief smile crosses your face.

You decide to stop teasing us both, and slowly, with almost maddening consideration, begin to enter me. I open my legs wider, feeling the tip of your cock beginning to open me, stretching me, preparing me for all that needs to follow. I gasp and moan, inching closer, desperate to pull you inside my throbbing pussy, desperate for you to complete me.

"Will you take it all?" you whisper, teasing me, pinching my nipples. Teasing, because you already know the answer.

"Yes," I moan. "Yes, I want all of you." I gasp, whimpering and writhing, nails digging into your back as you completely fill me. "Oh fuck," I whisper, chest heaving and for a moment, we don't move. We just stare into one another's eyes as if our souls have joined, have always been searching for the other. A silent, electrical exchange of you asking if I'm ready for more and my silent answer of yes.

"Fais-moi l'amour," I command with sudden boldness, and you begin to fuck me.

You move slowly at first, making sure my tight pussy can handle your enormous length, gradually speeding up as the juice flows from my pussy and along your cock.

Checking that I'm still okay, you begin to fuck me harder and I whimper and moan into your neck, lifting my hips when I can to get you deeper.

"Yes!" I scream, "Yes, oh fuck yes!" digging my nails into your back, desperately and silently telling you to fuck me as deep and as hard as you wish.

By now, the people outside can probably hear us, but for once in my life, I don't care - all I want and need is you.

We could have been there an hour or eternity, as I continue arching against you, hands clutching you desperately, kissing at your neck as you continue to fuck me. I feel like I'm being torn apart and it's the most exquisite feeling of pleasure and pain, that I wish would never end.

"Cum for me," you whisper, finally giving me permission

"You first," I challenge between gasps, alternately from you slamming deep inside me, and cruelly biting at my nipples.

You chuckle once again and shake your head, annoyingly confident and maddeningly in control. You grab my breasts - one in each hand - and roughly fondle them as you kiss my neck, continuing to slam inside me as though it were no effort at all, and I know, that to my frustration, I'm not going to win.

Suddenly, almost without warning, I arch against you, head flung back, screaming out as my pussy clamps tightly upon your cock. "Oh fuck" I scream, shuddering uncontrollably against you. It's like an earthquake of tremors, rampant with aftershocks and it feels like too much for me to bear.

"Now its my turn" you say, continuing to thrust and my hands grasp at you desperately, not sure that I can possibly take any more, but I definitely do not want you to stop. I don't want you to stop until you cum inside me; I want to feel you explode all of that thick, hot white cum inside me, and I know that you want to give it to me.

You continue to slam into me, somehow reaching greater deaths and I practically scream again before you finally, lovingly, fill me to the absolute brim with your seed, and only then do you finally stop, allowing me to collapse against you, a beautifully broken mess of who I was and what you've made me. For several minutes, we rest in a breathless silence, and you take my head in your hands and kiss me tenderly.

You lift me down, holding me tightly, until my trembling legs can finally support me once more, and I stare at you, in wild and wanton admiration, wondering what on earth you'll do next.

"Can I buy you dinner?" you ask, with a mischievous smile and I laugh, nodding. "Patrick."

"Mircalla."