Getting Over It Ch. 01bythiscouldbtricky©
After softly, and chastely wishing you goodnight, I close the door and lean back against it, letting out an exaggerated sigh that tickles my dark bangs. For a moment, I just stand there, lost in thought, replaying the events of the evening in my mind. Wishing I had done this differently, or said that differently. I hope that my nervousness didn't come across as obvious to him like it was to me. Since our kiss earlier in the evening, I can't stop thinking about it, and wonder if he is affected, like me.
Over and over, I watch in my mind's eye as our lips meet. Like seeing a movie, or a sports replay on slo-mo. I should have taken it farther. I should have been honest with myself and taken a chance.
But the idea of you pushing me away absolutely terrifies me. I think back on recent years, how many times I have felt rejected, used, or just plain worthless. Having spent so much time trying to build up my confidence, like a wall, it only takes a night like tonight to really bring the truth home. That, oh-so-precious wall I built? It was made of sand. Of glass. If you look hard enough, you can see right through me anyway, and a glass castle can't stand indefinitely. It was a facade. Not the solution I imagined it to be.
That's the heart of the matter really. Being so afraid that someone might realize how wounded I am underneath, that I would rather suffer alone than take a chance.
I can't do that anymore.
With new resolve, I make my way to my kitchen for a glass of water, kicking off my heels in the hallway. I stop to glance at myself in the hall mirror, critically trying to see what he might see. Short, posh haircut, dark brown hair, tinged with dark auburn. Also dark, golden eyes that tilt just slightly up at the corners, rimmed with long sooty eyelashes. High cheekbones, and a mischievous mouth. I wish my lips were poutier. A pretty face, I guess. I look down at the rest of me. A petite frame, with curves in the right places, accentuated by the short black dress I was wearing. Smallish breasts though. Or maybe I just think they aren't big enough. My little waist flares out to nice hips. Pulling a face at my reflection, having not come to any useful conclusions, I continue on my kitchen run. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I take it to the sink and idly hold my fingers under the faucet until the water runs cold, all the while deep in thought.
I should call him. I should tell him what a great night I had, and that I would be disappointed if I didn't see him again soon. Be bold.
Remember that kiss? You know the one where you would have rather torn his clothes off and had your wicked way with him rather than have it end? You could do that. Maybe he wants you too. You'll never know if you don't make a move...
I smile wryly and roll my eyes at myself. My inner monologue is never silenced.
Resolutely, I pull my cell phone out from its hiding place in my bra, and scroll the contacts until I find his number. I stare at it. Then sigh again.
I need to at least be sitting down for this.
Padding barefoot out of my kitchen, clutching my glass of water like a lifeline, I fling a blanket off the back of my couch with the hand that is still glued to my phone, and awkwardly wrap it around me before I sink onto the cushions.
I take a few sips of water before I start to coach myself.
Okay, you can do this. You've poodled around long enough, he's got to be home by now. Make the call, tell him it was great night, thank him for dinner, and say you would like to see him again, and that you would love to be laying on your kitchen table, thighs spread wide as he devours your pussy.
Whoa. Maybe not so much on telling him that last part. My own thoughts cause me to blush, because I hadn't realized until that moment just how incredible my daydream sounded.
Hmm... Perhaps I would be a little braver on the phone if I let myself consider it for a second...
I glance over at my kitchen table from my seat on the sofa. Yep, that would work perfectly. I close my eyes and imagine the cool polished wood underneath my bare back, and his warm, strong hangs holding my thighs apart.
He would be such a tease, I just know it. He would softly caress my open legs with his rough palms, moving up and down them, getting a little closer to my hot, dripping wet cunt with each pass. My hips would strain and lift, attempting to press my wetness to his fingertips. But he would only grin and stay just beyond my reach, until he knew I couldn't take it anymore. Then, oh-then, he would start using his mouth. Nibbling and kissing my inner thighs, drawing closer to where I wanted him most... And then he would move to the opposite thigh. I would let out a frustrated sound, something between a growl, and a moan, and my ire would only cause him to chuckle darkly.
Without warning, he would take my pussy then; ravish me with his mouth and teeth and tongue. Tugging gently on my labia, followed by a swirl or ten of his tongue on my hard little clit. My hands would find their way to his head to press him harder to the apex of my thighs, the pleasure causing me to cry out. My blood would boil, and the heat would become overwhelming as he ate me, bringing me closer to the edge. He would make me beg, I think... And God, I want to beg...
Abruptly, I do feel wetness in my lap and it's not the good kind. In my reverie, I spilled my glass of water. Must have been really into my fantasy, I suppose. I feel my cheeks with my hands, and they are warm and flushed. With annoyance, I crumple up the wet blanket and just toss it on the floor, and decide if I'm going to call, I'd better do it now, while irked, before I lost my nerve.
Clicking my cell phone back on, his number still on the lit screen, I press "CALL", before I can think about it again. The phone rings twice, and then he picks it up with a low, and sleepy sounding, "Hello?"
And what meant to pass my lips as "Hello", really only came out as something unintelligible and decidedly high pitched. Clearing my throat, I try again, my own thoughts developing a stutter, "Um, hi. I was just calling to tell you that I had a good time. Was I...? Er, what I meant to say is, did you...? Cuz it's OK if you didn't want, but I did, and I... Fuck."
I panic, and hang up the phone, screaming at myself in frustration, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving my face into it.
Wow, that didn't go well at all. Now I'm sure he thinks I'm crazy and will never call me again.
Feeling sorry for myself, but not knowing what to do, I lay back on my couch with a sigh. I consider the remote possibility that he may not remember me calling him when he wakes up in the morning. He sounded pretty tired.
I hang on to this idea to ease my mortification.
Sighing again, and mentally shrugging my shoulders, I decide to make the best of my situation and not let being aroused go to waste. Still in my date night clothes, which consist of very little in the first place, I am grateful for the easy access now, because I definitely mean business. My slinky little black dress is easily pushed up over my thighs to bunch up just above my hips as I spread my legs wide. One shapely calf drapes over the back of the couch, while the other leg is bent at the knee with my foot flat on the seat of the sofa.
For posterity (because if you're going to do a job, do it right), as my hands drift down to that aching, sopping wet place, I tweak my nipples a few times and my muscles clench inside in response. Continuing their downward journey, my hands finally get to the place that is craving all of the attention. With one hand, I spread the lips of my pussy and with the other; I trail my fingertips down to the source of so much moisture. Pushing two fingers inside a few times, I slip out the now slick digits and circle my throbbing little nodule of pleasure softly.
And this is all just preparation.
I let my thoughts wander back to what he was doing to me on my kitchen table, except now the solid, smooth wood of the table is smashing my breasts as I lean over it. Roughly he is grasping the cheeks of my ass from behind, spreading them apart for a good view of his cock as it slides in and out of my cunt hole. His thick member, rubbing all the right places, causes my pussy to clench and unclench rhythmically with him. He is fucking me so hard that the table slides a little across the linoleum with every thrust.
Out loud, a hiss escapes my lips as my fingers play and the pressure builds. Low and deep in my belly I can feel the heat pooling, like magma beneath a volcano. Pinching, pulling, rubbing and flicking my clit, rising much quicker to the place of no return than I had intended, I release a very loud moan on the heels of some incredibly explicit dirty talk to myself. Not quite there yet, I shove my fingers back inside me to coax that orgasm from my teasing and reluctant bitch of a cunt, while still systematically drawing them out again to massage my pulsing hot little nub.
"Sooooo close... C'mon, you dirty hole of a pussy, let me fucking have it..."
My pussy is starting to clench and I'm so very close to the edge. A sheen of sweat has broken out across my forehead and my entire body is flushed. I have never felt so ready to come in my entire life, I just need a little bit more...
And that's when the doorbell rings.