My Perfect, Romantic Memory

He gave me the romance I didn't know I craved. He and I met over the internet and it was two months before we decided to see whether or not the chemistry we had here would crossover to real life. That's not an easy task, as some of you know. For me in particular, it's very hard. There was no guarantee that he'd be able to affect me in the same manner. No certainty that the feel would be the same. I'm a woman, remember, so giving myself to someone isn't an easy decision. With him, I craved it. I needed it. I wasn't going to fight it and expectations be damned, I had hope.

We decided on dinner at 8, in New York City, where I am on a frequent basis because of travel. I had butterflies the entire day and they kept getting stronger as I bathed and got ready. I wore black, because that's what I normally do, a curve hugging dress that dips low, V-neck along the cleavage and falls to the knees, just above where the calf and knee meet, exposing that little dip. I knew he was taller than I so I settled on heels that would, hopefully, bring me to eye level, to mouth level. I don't normally wear jewelry, just an orb of gold on my left thumb that is never removed but that's another story. Scented, ready, I left the hotel and went to meet him.

You hear about these things happening but they never happen to you, and yet I sit here and attest that they do happen. I'd seen him in pictures so I knew what to expect. I walked in and immediately spotted him at the bar. We were both early, he a fraction earlier than I. Not a moment after I laid eyes on him, he looked up, almost as if he'd sensed me, and our eyes locked, his blue on my brown, and palpable electricity flowed between us. I knew then and there. I lowered my eyes because my legs didn't seem to hear my motion command, felt the heat of a blush and when I raised my gaze, he was moving towards me. I averted my gaze again and inwardly grinned but before I could extend my hand for a shake, I was enveloped in his arm and drawn to his chest, my cheek lay flat against it and I realized two things, he was taller and thicker than I thought and I didn't want to move.

I won't bore you with too many details of how the night progressed, I know you want the details that count. I'll only say that it was he who set the pace and he chose slow, languid and deliciously torturous. I'm not sure if he knew how I was feeling, if he did he masked it much better than I, but by the time the after dinner drink came, I was intoxicated on more than one level. After dinner, when we both knew it was time, we both fell silent and the journey back to my hotel was strange. He held my right hand with his right, his left kept on my bare knee, his fingers in both places in constant motion. My skin tingled and maybe the anticipation intensified his touch but I haven't had my hands feel so erotic since. Still, sometimes, I bring my wrist to my lips, because just the memory of his touch gives me reason to make sure it's not really there.

To the hotel and up the elevator, he never stopped touching me, looking at me, setting me into a slow smolder of want with just those two actions. Though I was leading to the room, it was he who guided me with the palm of his left hand at the small of my back, all the while caressing my hand with his right. Working the key was unecessary, he took it from my hand and opened the door for us. I excused myself to freshen up and his grin was unmistakable when he opened the bathroom door and ushered me inside with the same, gentle push of his hand on my lower back. My nerves made me stay in there longer than necessary.

This is where it gets interesting.

I came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, to a darkened room lit with several small candles, all scented. He remembered. Vanilla and a combination of apples and cinnamon were as rich throughout the room as the glow of their light was warm and I was awed. If you knew the animalistic way our internet play had been, you'd understand my perplexion but I digress. I couldn't hold back the small smile that appeared when I found him standing nude, and very ready, by the desk.

He walked to me and my mind wandered to that old poem... she walks in beauty like the night. Without a single word both his hands raised and he slipped his fingers into my hair, right at the temples, and drew me closer. I was sure he was going to ravage me. He was full of surprises. With both his hands on my face, his thumbs on each of my temples, his other fingers within my hair, he leaned down to kiss me and though I presented my mouth, more than eagerly, he kissed my forehead instead. Slowly he covered every inch of my face with kisses, brushes from his lips; the fleeting thought I had wondering why was quickly replaced by tempered frustration because I had promised to allow him to do anything he wanted and that I wouldn't question. By the time he took my mouth I was breathless with want and pressing myself into him invitingly. I was limp against his much larger frame and I had to use both my hands to cling to his hips.

To say his kiss was marvelous would not do him justice so I'll only say what it did to me. Each slow swipe of his tongue against my lower lip sent tingles up and down my spine. Don't kiss me back, he had said, and I'm not sure I could have, at that moment, all I could manage was to tilt my head back and fall into his kiss willingly, lips parted and breath quickened. Every time he dipped his tongue into my mouth and grazed a small taste of mine, I gasped because it was always unexpected, always sensual, always left me wanting more. I don't know how long he kissed me for, I remember feeling him hard against me, taking me from slow burning to sizzling and back down to a simmer. The more he took my mouth, the more it made me ache to be touched but he wouldn't, not this one. I vaguely remember thinking how he was kissing me exactly how I'd said I liked to be kissed.

He took his mouth away and left me breathless as he began to trail down over my jaw and down the length of my neck, his hand brushing my hair aside as my hands stayed clinging to his hips. When he reached the base of my neck he opened his mouth and put his teeth against that spot where my shoulders meet my neck. He opened his mouth wide and drug his tongue, without suction, over my skin. My flesh responded with goosebumps... perfect. My head lolled to the side in silent plea and he intuitively bit me harder and sucked, the imprint of my nails dug their mark into his hips as I let a single moan escape.

My memory gets unclear after this... his peeling off my dress while still keeping his mouth on me, his hands never touching that which ached to be touched, his smell, his breathing, his hardness against the skin of my belly, his turning me around and moving my hair to the side to continue the torture of his mouth now on my back... the growls of frustration he emitted but never gave into. His control amazed me, his mouth set me on fire.

My bra, the flimsy black of my panties, all peeled away without my being conscious of it. It was hard for me to stand and somehow along the way, as he knelt in front of me and continued to lick, bite and suck on my everything, my hands ended up gripping the edge of the desk, my ass pressed against it. Lips, wetness, warmth at my ankles, along the straps of my high-heeled sandals, up, up, so fucking slowly up along the back of my calf, forward to my knee, hands moving, possessing, teasing. A blur of nothing but sensations, aches and wants, needs and passions. He moved me, somehow along the way, until I was prone on the bed and didn't give a fuck about my promise and I started begging him to let me touch him.

It didn't matter how much I begged, he wouldn't give in and when his mouth finally took my pussy, I came so quickly, so earth-shatteringly strong that I shook violently. He allowed me the release and continued to kiss me, gentler after I came, until I recovered enough to stir. When he knew, and somehow he knew, I was capable of taking his mouth on me again, he spread my lips and tasted what he was responsible for. He lapped at me and the muffled sounds of his moans told me he enjoyed it as much if not more than I did. He'd get more intense, more demanding in his licks, as if the wetter I got, the more he wanted to drink. He'd stop himself every time I got close, however, guided by the increasing loudness of my moans and the jerked movements of my hips, and wouldn't let me cum again. I hated him for that... I loved him for that. When I came again, when he allowed me to cum again, after his tongue had tasted every possible inch of skin, after his fingers had probed and curled both quickly and slowly, I did so in wave after wave of pleasure. His mouth, kinder with my first orgasm, refused to leave my clit and he kept licking, fingering, moaning vibrations into me that sent me into a heaven of pleasure, bountiful and intense, unparalleled prior to that moment.

I was sweaty and still panting when he rolled me over onto my stomach though his breathing easily rivalled mine. He laid on top of me and calmed us both by nuzzling my neck and hair, by drawing his hands over my body, by moving against me until my legs parted to accomodate his knees. He kept me flat on the bed, pinned by his massive weight and height and yet his touch was gentle, his nails with just enough pressure to let me know he wasn't going to hold back any longer. He'd been hard this entire time and it seemed like ages had gone past. The smell of the candles was now mingled with the musk of sex and to me, the combination was alluring.

With the slow control of determination, he entered me. He spread my ass and then drug his hands over my hips, ribs and arms, until they lay over mine and twined with my fingers. He squeezed his hands closed just as he was penetrating me and his groan of pleasure when he reached my deepest part made me quiver. He lay still for a long time, kissing the back of my shoulders, biting me on occassion when I squeezed, whispering into my ear... He began to move slowly and our position kept me in check, unable to move, at his mercy. Pleasure began to build again in me, each thrust of his fucking inching me closer again to orgasm. He filled me completely and when he pulsed I could feel it. I knew to lie still when he did, knew that had I attempted to move he'd have cum and though his body was ready, his mind clearly wanted to hold back. He kept me there, pinned beneath him, fucking me from behind, for a long, long time, so long that my body knew the length of him so well that it instinctively tightened around him when he was all the way in. I came as he ground into me with languid slowness and I think it surprised him for he released his grip of my hands to still my hips. After I came, he slid both his hands under my hips to my clit and dipped his fingers into the wetness there... when he put all four of his fingers against my still throbbing clit, he began to move again, this time without holding back.

Instead of pounding into me all at once, his speed gradually began to go faster, his bites stronger, his grunts deeper, hungrier. He fucked me as if we had been in the missionary position, whispering into my ear, grazing his teeth against the back of my neck instead of the front, his fingers moving against my clit while he simultaneously moved into my pussy from behind. His thrusts became faster, rougher the closer he got but I was too involved with my impending climax that I didn't notice. The room was loud with our pleasure, wet, moaning, needy, desperate. The closer I got the more I needed it and the more he seemed to want to get us both there. Tension built into feral need quickly, demandingly, uncaring of his want to wait or my need to linger. Rapturously we reached peak at the same moment... bliss in the form of an explosion of a build up that took months to create and that moment to become complete. I felt his cum hit the deepest part of me and I coaxed every last drop out with each of my contractions. Drained... exhausted... sated, we lie, him atop me bearing all his weight, me beneath, stuck to him, our sweat and cum the glue.

Later, when the romance of the first had given way to experimentation, need, euphoria and power struggles, I lay in his arms marvelling at the perfection of that first touch while he slept entangled in me and the light from the candles was replaced by the glow of impending dawn...