Popsickles

I was finally at his home. It was a great house in a very nice neighborhood in San Francisco. A quiet area with plenty of parking. That made it easy for me to stop my car right in front of the address, and look up to see the lights in the windows. It was an unusual place in a big city. Detached. The fog was swirling around in town that night as I locked my car and headed up the stairs.

The time had passed slowly since the party where I tried to get his number. He was a bit hesitant to dance, and that made it hard, too. I was trying everything I could think of to let him know I was interested, but he was a bit slow to notice.

Why that would be I cannot say, because I did everything I could think of to help him notice. A short black dress, open toed shoes with spike heels and black sheer stockings. I wore some things I had just bought at the lingerie store that afternoon, too.

I knew Ron from school, and he had been flirting with me for some time, but never did anything about it, it seemed. We talked in the hallways occasionally, but since we went to different classes, seeing him was infrequent. I did notice him from the onset, but was not sure how to go about hooking up with him. Shyness is part of my nature. At first.

My girlfriend who had classes with me had started the ball rolling by calling him and filling him in on the facts. There was a Christmas party coming up, and she simply told him to ask me to it so we could double date. The fact that it was a very elaborate party meant that anyone without a date missed out on a chance to impress a sweet young thing, and get her into a very "receptive" mood.

Ron called me that afternoon, and in a cute way of not being sure I would say yes, asked me if I wanted to go. I told him, "Sure. Sounds like it would be fun."

To cut to the chase, we went to the party, and enjoyed the fine food and music, and I had a couple of drinks, (tequila). I got a bit more relaxed as the night went on, and when it came time to go home, I was a bit tipsy, but not too much so. Rod drove me back to the lot where I had left my car, and I simply left him and got in my car and drove home.

I am sure he jerked off when he was home, thinking about my sweet tits he never got to play with. I had worn a very low cut dress, with a shelf bra that really pushed them up into his face.

Every time I had a chance, I would lean over in front of him, and he was just about to come watching my nipples almost reveal themselves for him.

My tight skirt and white high heels, together with my black horizontal stripped thigh high stockings, held up with a black garter belt, sometimes revealed my upper thighs, and the soft flesh was unmolested by that nasty boy that night. But I knew he was quite ready to slip something between my stockings.

That was the start of things.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. After nights talking on the phone for what seemed like forever, and going to bed hot and lonely, I was finally at his address. I had left my car at work and he met me there after he got off, and we had dinner at an Italian Restaurant on Nob Hill. It was dark and romantic. Afterwards, and went to Golden Gate Park in the dark in his car just driving around and talking. I knew what I wanted to happen, but it was not going to when we were driving around. I asked him to stop near Stow Lake so we could watch the reflection of the moon on the water. (Not bad, right?)

We did some more talking and FINALLY he took my hand and began to rub it as we talked. It did not matter what we were talking about, and I forget what it was, anyway. At this point, all my attention was on his hand roaming all over mine.

Eventually, he took my hand up to his and began to rub his lips on it. Next thing I know he is sucking my fingers. The warm wetness and his tongue was something that got my pussy wet. I began to realize this night was not going to end with me going home alone, if I could help it.

I still just let Ron do what he wanted, and remained passive. Before too long, he leaned over, and quickly we were deep in passionate tongue-play. I must say, he was quite aggressive for a first kiss. He was deep in my throat, and very much involved in fucking me with his tongue, as far as I was concerned. It was one of those man things.

For me, to be confined to a passenger seat while my man was building up to fucking me right there was very hot. He could not do much about it, and I loved every bit of it. I liked the idea that he was restrained and could not get what he instinctively wanted. Like the satin ropes I have in my dresser. I began to feel like the woman I want to be. Demure, hot, innocent, yet ready for anything he would do. I was not too concerned about anyone seeing us in the car. It was dark, and we were not doing much more that kissing at that point, or so it would seem to a casual passerby. The doors were locked, and nobody but me knew how wet I was getting.

I was not about to reach for his cock in any way. The last thing I wanted was him coming all over my knuckles as I jerked him off. I knew that was what I could easily do, but that was not in the program at that point. I would have loved to have a controlling handful of his stiff meat, but all I needed right then was to know he was getting good and hot. I knew he had a terrific hard on, being as his breathing had progressively become hotter and hotter.

How could he NOT have a hot cock at this point?

I took a break from his passion to suggest it was getting late. "I should be getting home, I guess...", I said. We both knew this was only a break in the action, but I was getting a stiff neck in the car.

"No", he said. "You are coming to my place, aren't you?"

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are."

"What about my car?"

"Well, how about if I drive you back to the shop, and you can drive to my house?"

Not surprisingly, I agreed.

And now I rang the bell. He had beat me there, he knew the way better, and the streets were curvy, not laid out in grids. It was a bit tough finding it in the fog, but I am a bright girl. Ron opened the door, and in I went. He kissed me deeply and held me tight right there, with the door still open. The car was no longer an obstacle, and I could feel his body pressing against mine. I was right, he was ready. Very ready.

"How about that wine?", I asked as I politely and effortlessly parted from his embrace. I like these things to progress naturally, and rape in the hallway did not fit my idea of an erotic evening.

Like every boy I knew, he was more interested in sinking his shaft into my body and violently stabbing me over and over with his cock in various angles until he came, but I wanted to play with him a bit. I walked into the kitchen, and looked around. The small talk about the home ensued, and he found a bottle of Cabernet under the sink. As he was opening it, I excused myself to the bathroom.

It was about 11PM. In the bathroom I opened my small purse and checked my makeup. Yep. Everything was still in place, except I needed more lipstick. I took a bit of time to freshen up, and used a bit of hot water and soap to make myself feel "Pretty" below my waist. I cleaned my pussy and asshole really well, and applied a dollop of coconut oil inside my puckered hole, Just in case. I felt clean and ready. All over. I had a bit of perfume in my purse, and dabbed a bit here and there.

I wanted to be "presentable", after all of the hot breathing and school-kid antics in the car.

I was wearing a somewhat tight Royal blue skirt, and a conservative black blouse with black pearl buttons. I dressed for the evening, with a black satin thong, and a very hot bra I had purchased recently. It was, in fact, really nasty. Satin Blue, with openings about one inch in diameter for my nipples. It made me feel so decadent, so sexy. When I saw my hard nipples perkily jutting out from their restraint at home earlier that evening, I wished I could play with a woman's breasts when wears this bra.

Now, alone, I saw my nipples were a bit harder than when I was playing with them myself in the restroom at work. The bit of body lotion I had put on them to arouse myself was still faintly present. The bra made my breasts quite dramatically firm and my nipples would trace an outline of my lust and show through the blouse I wore. I liked the way it made me feel. I was wearing some stockings which were a bit unusual. Black and white horizontal stripes about two inches wide alternating up my legs, ending at the clasps of my lacy blue garter belt. Four straps total.

My skirt was long enough to not give anything away, and not too tight. A pair of black satin panties were topped off by the purposeful garter belt. That was going to be a surprise, I hoped. The bra, well, I was not sure if he thought I was the type of woman to dress like a hooker or not. I am. For me, lingerie is the most sensual thing besides a hot cock ready to be enjoyed. (I have enjoyed seeing my man's cock in sheer woman's lingerie, but that is another story, for another time.}

I straightened my clothes, took a quick spray of breath freshener, checked the mirror, and went to the kitchen.

The wine was good, and I did not want any food to interfere with my "presentation". I was feeling like the women I dream about. If I want to experience another woman's body, I don't want to have to have to take the food away from her first. Wine is easy to incorporate into the lovemaking.

We took the two wine glasses into the living room, and sat down on the leather couch. Ron had cooled off a bit by then, as was to be expected. I guess a hard cock needs constant attention, doesn't it?

After a bit of distraction with the tv, and some positioning or the wine glasses far enough away so as not to spill them during any lovemaking, we were once again kissing deeply. TV remotes are SO useful! Ron was quickly back to where he left off. His tongue was plowing me as if it was his cock, and he was really doing a great job of fucking my throat with his tongue. He, much to his credit, would become very gentle at times, and the alternations of heavy lust and gently eroticism was a perfect ratio for me.

I controlled him as I could, but made sure not to touch his cock or anything else sensitive at that point. (Later on, I came to find he has the most erotic nipples himself).

Kissing him deeply was an enjoyment I had been waiting for for some time. He had a firm ass, and his arms felt great around me. It is so comforting for me to be held totally by a man.

He was exploring me all over, and finally his hands found their way under my blouse. When he cupped my breasts, his deep intake of breath signaled his erotic shock at my nipples straining through my bra.

He really was breathing deeply now, and his tongue relaxed as his attention went his fingers playing with my breasts and bra which he was enjoying immensely.. I liked it too, but he was a bit rough. I understand.

I remember the first time I found a woman's nipples without having to remove her bra. It was easy to see why he liked it. I, however, knew how to be gentle.

We lay down on the couch, side by side, Ron continuing to explore me and toy with my breasts. He would knead first one nipple, and then the other, since he could only manage one hand in my blouse at a time, being as we were sideways on the couch.

I was beginning to reach down to feel his cock, but it was a bit tough with his pants still on. We could have been in bed naked, of course, but this was so much more erotic. I was getting wetter and wetter. My tiny panties were, by this point, well lubricated. He could have slipped his cock in me with me still wearing the panties. That is another story as well. Another man. Another time.

I like the first time with a man. It is a time to explore, and to see what he likes. Ron seemed to like everything.

His hands were finally getting down to my panties, and he found the garter belt. Again, the breathing increased as he touched and explored my lingerie. I was fucking him with my tongue as he got more and more passionate. I imagined a dildo working him, and made my tongue do the job of it.

It is one thing to describe it all now, but at the time, I was as hot as he was. I kept thinking of what I wanted, and was trying to get the message to him. At this point, it is all signals. The only thing oral about it is not verbal, is it?

Ron managed to get my shoes off, and he positively delighted in unsnapping my garter belt and exploring my wet pussy through the satin panties. I was really hot now. He kept it up, rubbing my clit through the satin, never touching me directly. He parted my lips and played with me without directly touching me. He obviously liked lingerie.

I was rubbing myself against his hand by now, and broke my mouth free for breath. My pants were interrupted by soft panting utterances...

"Yes........oh..........that's it...yes. Oh, God, ummmmm..."

You know, the things you have heard yourself say. What a woman will say when all the formalities are past.

Ron had worked his hands into my panties by now, and I was getting all my wishes met. He moved his hands around the waistband of the panties, and plunged into them. He was dabbling with my pussy hair a bit, and the he finally was on me. IT FELT SO GOOD! He was tracing patterns on my clit. He later told me he would write the alphabet on a woman's clit and it would never fail. He was right. The fact that the pattern kept changing was driving me wild.

I was lost to the passion. But I knew I might have a chance to arrange something else. Something chancy. It is not every man who knows what to do at the right time, but I felt Rod was one who might.

By now, my expensive sexy blouse and skirt were ignored, and my thong was pushed aside so he could work my pussy crack and get it really wet. I was starting to lube up really well..

I kept my clothes on all through the rest of the night, although they were really abused and I tore a button off of my blouse at one point. Or, rather, Ron did. He was such a bastard. He did not even apologize!

I began, by moving in just the right way, to begin to make my lust known, if I could. Ron was now massaging the crack of my pussy, and working my pussy further and further down. He was venturing to the area below my vagina now and then. I moved more and more to give him access to the full wet crack. "Take me", I said, so softly I don't think he heard, but I was talking to myself..I wanted it now.

I repositioned at one point when our positions allowed it to occur easily, communicating physically only, nothing said or implied. It was all going to be an experience that just presented itself, nothing planned. By him....

Now Ron had his hand working my lower back. Quickly, he was feeling up my ass cheeks, rubbing and squeezing them as hard as he pleased. He was kneading my buns and loving it.

I know men always think about what a woman's ass will feel like in their hands. Ron was finding out how mine felt, and he was not letting a moment go unappreciated. I love the feel of a man's hand on my ass.

He was sounding like mine was the firmest ass he had ever had his hands on. He was about to come, it seemed. I slowed it down just a bit by withdrawing my tongue. Nonetheless, I let it be known how passionate this made me by simply abandoning myself to the pleasure, and the more he played with my ass, the hotter I got.

He knew it was making me hotter, the further down my ass crack he played, the hotter I got. I was curving backwards, straining to get more of his finger down the crack of my ass. He got my response for every venture of his hand. The closer he got to my asshole, the more I lost control.

There is a certain pleasure that comes from a man feeling all along the crack leading to the goal of my anal zone. The closer he is, the more I like it. The thing here is, for me, the fact that I know a man knows exactly what this feels like. Not unlike tonguing a man deeply, the pleasure is beyond a difference in sex. I can do to him anything he can do to me, in essense. But I get ahead of the story.

He was tentative. He knew he had to be sure I really wanted it there. I was breathing harder and harder the closer he got to my asshole.

I curved backwards, I rubbed my asscheeks against his hand, I clutched him tighter and my breath gave it all away. He was finding out how much I like assplay. I was straining against his hand and arching deeply for him to go for it. My thong panties were still on, but they were inconsequential, since they offered no protection from his advances, and did nothing to defend my hidden assets from his advances.

To him, I am sure, he was on the verge of finding a woman who liked it in the ass, and realized he had one in his hands. To me, I was finding a man who would fuck me in the ass.

Deeper and deeper down the channel, back and forth, closer every move, his finger was moving in cycles closer and closer to my asscrack. Finally, he was there. We both knew this was the point of conquest. He had control of me. I allowed it. I wanted it. He could do with me as he pleased, and I wanted him to do it all. I kept going, becoming completely abandoned to the pleasure of it, I kept it up, deeper and deeper came my breaths. I was not going to let him stop now.

He began to play around the entry to my ass. I was loving every moment. I needed it. To him, I may have been the slut. The whore. The nasty woman the men look for when they are jerking off alone. That was me at that point. I was not the cute little sound engineer from the third floor. Now I was the slut on the couch. I wanted erotic lust until I was exhausted from it, and I knew I could get it from him and from his body. And mine.

"Yes....Ummmm...." Over and over. The words came out softly from my lips,between pants, and I had no control of them. "Yes. Do me. Do my ass, I love it there, baby." This I said too softly for him to hear, mostly to myself. As I said this, I had a feeling Rod liked it there as well, and this turned out to be, oh, so true. He, however, would say it louder. But again, that is another tale.

At some point, he heard me. The nasty words got him hotter and hotter. You must realize that at this point, I had not even touched his cock. He had never fucked me. Yet, I was allowing him access to me where it is most forbidden. He gently, oh so, gently, eased his pinky finger around and around the rim of me. He was so gentle, and it was a stark contrast to my bucking and slutty urges. He took his time. He wet his tiny finger with my juices, and explored the entrance. Rod slipped inside a bit. Just the very tip of the smallest digit.

A man does many things with his hands, they go many places. He jerks himself off with them. He repairs greasy car parts with them. Tonight, now, he was using them for the best purpose I could propose. He was pleasuring me with them. The smallest tip of the smallest finger. Oh, how it was the perfect size for my puckered sweet hole. I wanted to wrap my ass around it totally and savor it's presence. I did.

I was wild, breath coming quickly. He now took charge, gently exploring how much I wanted.

He slipped in an inch or so. He had no idea, I am sure, how much I loved this. He probably thought he was violating me and submitting me to humiliation. No way. I wanted this badly. I had dreamed about taking it up my ass so many lonely nights, and in so many hot showers. I was not exactly virgin back there.

He certainly knew what to do. He made sure he was lubed. My pretty, private, snatch would provide ample juices for him. My panties were wet, and the wetness had migrated all over the crack running from my pussy to my brown ringed asshole.

My mission was accomplished. He finger fucked me gently, and slowly inserted more and more, dipping in and out as if he were enjoying a condiment dip. He was in my ass. He knew how much I liked it. We fucked that way for over a half an hour. Eventually, he inserted a larger finger, and I am not sure which one it was. It felt much like the dicks I have had up my ass. Only smaller.