This Is Who I Am, This Is What I Do

The thumbs began again behind my ears and his fingers stroked my throat, their tips tracing the choker collar of the forest green shirt. His thumbs moved from behind my ears to the back of my neck and I let my head drop forward. After massaging the upper neck and throat, his hands moved to the hook that held the choker collar at the front of the shirt.. He paused, asking silent permission, "Please do," I whispered and I felt him undue it. He unwrapped the collar from around my neck and it fell loose across my breasts.

His thumbs began to massage the lower part of the back of my neck and then my shoulders. Lifting my arms behind me I began to stroke his arms, still in his suit jacket. "Wait," I said, and turned around on the couch. I reached up the the labels of his jacket and slid my hands along the outside down to the buttons of his double breasted suit, undoing all four. His chest felt firm and powerful. Our forearms came next to each other as he grabbed the lapels of his jacket and mine looked diminutive and childlike, and less than half the size of his. He slid the jacket off to lay it next to mine while my hands rested against his chest. As the jacket slid free of his shoulders I saw how muscled they were with his trapezoids making a thirty degree angle between his shoulders and well muscled neck.

I brought my eyes down past his stomach and was staring at his groin. Something massive seemed to be waiting behind those expensive suit pants. I looked up again, feeling slightly nervous. Was everything about him so massive?

I thought of standing on the couch to reach his height, but I still wore my boots. I looked back up at him saying, "Let me just take my boots off." Hearing the intonation of my own voice I heard a request rather than a statement. How did he earn so much deference? Was I even the same person as the one whose interactions with Andrew exuded so much confidence?

"Allow me," he rumbled and came around the couch. I said nothing, and just watched him. He knelt before me, almost as if about to propose. I looked down on his broad, strong, bearded face. He met my gaze and without looking found my left foot. He lifted it to his knee. One hand cradling my calf, the strength of his hands easily felt through the boot leather, the other unzips the boot. A gentle tug and then slightly firmer as I bent my ankle to help, and the boot slid off. My ankle, covered only by the sheer black stocking rested against the black pinstripe of his thigh. Gently putting my left foot down and bringing my right foot up to his thigh, he again found the zipper and a gentle tug and the boot slid off.

Both hands embraced my foot and his thumbs began to massage its top working from the toes to the ankle. He then reversed his hand and let his thumbs work from toe to heal along the sole of my foot. I shuddered slightly, never before imagining my feet as an erogenous zone. The clumsy attempts by two high schoolers at foot massages had left me less than impressed. But this...this was nothing like that. Alternating between pressure and light touches, his every move captivated my attention. Finally, he lifted my foot as if it were my hand and, like a prince in a fairy tale, kissed it once. And then the right foot, top and bottom finished by a kiss. By the time he finished, my breathing had become a very quiet panting.

I expected and wanted his hands to go higher, but he paused. "The note, we forgot about the note." My head drifted back down from the clouds as I remembered the note he had slipped me at dinner, when he refused to answer my question. I looked at him curiously. Any experienced seducer would have known he had me on the ropes. His hands could have gone anywhere, but, instead, he broke the mood.

Slightly confused, I gathered myself off of the couch, "It's in my purse." The words fell almost absent mindedly from my mouth as I walked in stocking feet to the small table where I had laid it down. I pulled the paper out and unfolded it as I walked back toward the couch,

Andrea,

When you read this I will be with you in your room. I say that with confidence for if you had been contemplating rejecting me you never would have made light of it. You are far too kind a person to do that to someone.

You can have a good laugh right now if I was wrong. If I was wrong, the dinner was wonderful and you more than kept your word.

However, I do not think I was wrong.

Tarik

I laughed, "My, we are the confident one, aren't we?"

Tarik, now sitting on the short side of the L of the couch shrugged playfully, "Was I wrong?" he offered in retort, and I shook my head, confirming the painfully obvious. He continued, "I am confident in what I am good at, as should we all."

I chuckle and return to the couch. I think of sitting next to him, but he stopped the massage. Does he want me to sit next to him? Did he want to stop for some reason? Instead I sit on the long side of the L, but at the corner, so our knees almost touch, but a small person could sit between us on the corner of the L. I spoke in a slightly teasing voice, "So 'person who reads others so well and calculates every permutation of a conversation or interaction', why did you stop massaging my feet? Did you think I was not enjoying it?"

"Think we were both enjoying it, but I had a strong urge to speed things up. I was not sure if you would want that." I thought of myself with Andrew last night and how I had such romantic feelings for him, and none for Tarik. However, Amy's words and even Andrew's words echoed in my head that my feelings were for a fantasy, not Andrew. Tonight was tonight and Tarik and I are the only two who I should factor into the equation. I looked at him, a gentle giant, at least gentle with me. I wanted to go further, and I felt confident that if I hit a line, Tarik would not only let me stop, but would probably help me stop.

"Didn't you think I would say something?" I asked, sounding both frustrated and confused.

"Well, yes, but then I started to think about how you were saying that I always maneuvered conversations to get what I want, and then I started to wonder if I was getting you to relax to make you feel better or doing so simply to get to have sex with you. Then I started to feel guilty."

"Tarik, I did not mean to make you start being filled with self doubt. And, anyways, those two things are not mutually exclusive. You seem to be assuming that I really don't want to have sex with you. I don't think that is fair to me."

"Well, do you want to have sex with me?"

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration, "Well, I did a few minutes ago, but now, well, the mood's not quite where it was."

"So much for me being the master manipulator," he said. He shook his head gently, staring at the floor, "I'm sorry. Part of me keeps treating you like a kid, not because you are young, but because I know you are experienced in this business."

"I may be inexperienced, but I do try to think things through. I think at some level you have to trust me. Nothing that is going to happen tonight is going to change the world. I am not some chaste virgin, and you are far too kind a person that would do something that will traumatize me. The worst thing will be that I wake up tomorrow and decide this line of work is not for me, and, if that is true, I need to learn it from someone, and who better than you?

"You think me far better than I am, but in essence what you say is true. Well, I am sorry for ruining the mood."

We sat quietly for a few minutes. I admired his strong, prominent nose and athletic frame. I spoke, almost absent mindedly, "You look so strong and powerful, a neck like that comes from a lot of exercise."

"I wrestle; I love wrestling, although I am getting old for it. The younger ones are getting too strong for me. I lose more than I win, but at least no one is laughing at the old man when I lose, and I still win my fair share."

I smiled and slid over and, facing him, I knelt on the couch. "I want to see your arms," I said. He started to undo his cufflinks and I reached sideways across his side to start to undo his tie. He looked at me in mild surprise and slipped his cufflinks into his shirt pocket. "I love a double Windsor, but they take some time to undo," I whispered as I worked my way through the knot. Once freed, I left it around his neck. The red looked good against the heavy white cotton of his oxford shirt. I unbuttoned the top button. Underneath he wore a black t-shirt, concealed by the heavy white oxford cloth. I unbuttoned down to his stomach, then pulled the rest of the shirt free and unbuttoned the rest without my hands touching him too low. Still kneeling on the couch beside him, I pulled the shirt from his near shoulder and he leaned forward so I could pull his arm free of the sleeve and then he slid his other arm free.

As he leaned back again and his arm came forward, I intercepted it with my own arm, laying my palm against his with both our forearms vertical. Five inches longer and twice as broad his arm dwarfed mine. I felt nerves in my stomach again. In my head I kept telling myself "He will not hurt you," but the butterflies in my stomach, instead of dissipating, began to coalesce into a weight of dread. I swallowed and resolved to push on as he deserved better.

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and gently took him by the chin, feeling the scratches of his beard on my fingers. Turning his face toward me I kissed him gently on the lips. My hand slid down the side of his neck to rest on his left pectoral. Tenderly stroking it, I felt his nipple harden. He kissed me back, and I let my tongue run across his lips. His lips parted slightly, and I felt the tip of his tongue cross my lips and then my tongue grazed his. I lay across his lap, my elbow resting on the other side of him. Now I faced his sternum and his head was well above me. I was across his thighs rather than his hips. My left hand traced lines along his t-shirt following the contours of his muscles and curves. He had a little fat, but not much and he was very powerful.

He caressed my hair with a look of contemplative affection while my hand drifted across his t-shirt and then drifted lower pulling his t-shirt from his pants. I let just one finger glide under his shirt. I felt a firm, yet rounded belly with strong muscles beneath a velvety coat of hair. I circled his belly button and then brought my finger up carrying the t-shirt with it. As I came to his sternum, I flattened my hand against his stomach and slid the shirt up over his shoulder, letting my hand caress his velvety chest.

Thick black hair covered much of his body like a beautiful silky coat in a delectable pattern highlighting his chest and the center of his abdomen with a dark line almost pointing like an arrow to his belt buckle. After stroking the hair on chest and abdomen for a while, I followed the direction of the arrow, while his hands continued to caress my hair and he watched my every move intensely with curiosity. I slid off of his waist and between his legs and let both of my hands stroke his chest and then slide down to his belt buckle.

With one of his hands caressing my left ear, my hands worked the buckle. It was heavy and the leather thick, of good quality and new, so it took a bit of work. Finally, sliding the buckle free, I undid the button of his slacks. I quickly discovered there were two and then a third. After undoing them, I slowly lowered his zipper. Beneath he wore black boxer briefs. I slid his pants down and removed his shoes and socks, keeping my eyes focused on his feet. I wondered what was waiting for me, but I reminded myself that he would not hurt me.

I slid my hands up his muscular calves and along the top of his equally strong thighs. My eyes followed and I focused on what rested beneath and still hidden by his boxers. What I saw made me almost want to cry. What was I thinking? I was a little girl, a naïve little girl. Sure, with the likes of someone like Andrew, desperate for a woman, or most of the losers on my site desperate for sex of any kind, I could do just fine, in fact, more than fine. However, with a man of Tarik's experience and age, I was nothing at all, and even if I was something, he was more than I could ever handle. His penis was massive, it must have been eight or nine inches long beneath his boxers. That, in and of itself, was not a problem. However, his penis was still limp.

I had to at least try to do something, so I slipped his boxers off. His uncircumcised cock was so long, so thick and so not looking happy to see me. I paused and he raised my chin to look at him. I smiled a sheepish smile, keeping my best game face on, saying, "I'm sorry I am ruining this. I'm not very good at this with it being my first time and all."

He shook his head gently, "You are doing nothing wrong."

"So this is normal for you?" I asked, not sure if I should directly mention his limp dick, but nothing about him made me think that was normal. Anyways, the man was not dumb. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

He pursed his lips in thought, seeking the right words. "This is an awkward question to ask, albeit less so as I am standing naked in front of you. Andrea, are you wet or excited right now? Honestly, are you?"

I had not even thought about that, at least not since the foot massage. I thought about lying, but I thought he knew already, so I shook my head, "No, Tarik, but this is about you."

"No, this is supposed to be a date, it is supposed to be about both of us." I felt silly and embarrassed kneeling in front of this limp dicked naked man trying to console me, but who paid tens of thousands of dollars for me to be here. "You saying that just makes me want you to enjoy this more, and I don't know if I can turn you on. The more I think about it the stupider I feel. I need to stop thinking."

"Easier said than done. It is a lot like not thinking about white elephants," he rumbled gently.

I thought about how I felt when he was massaging me and then how he had intentionally broken the mood. I stood up. He looked at me, saying, "Do you want me to get dressed?"

"No, you seduced me before and put my head into the clouds. I want you to do it again, but don't stop this time. I am asking you to do it, so no need to feel bad or question it. But promise me to be gentle."

"Are you quite sure...." he started to say,

But I interrupted, "Stop, Tarik, stop right now or by god I will kick you out. Stop treating me like a child. Yes, I am young, but if you respect me, respect my decision and take me at my word. I said I want it, and I do, and based on earlier tonight I fully expect to enjoy it. Okay, I was dumb, and I tried to force it, and I should have known that someone with your empathy and experience would realize that. And then of course you are a nice guy, so you were not comfortable with me not being into it."

He nodded acquiescence, "My apologies. I was being intolerably condescending. I do promise to be gentle and one more promise." He gave his cock one long stroke, "This does not go in anything unless it is invited. I am quite good at finding satisfaction in other ways."

He stood and helped me to my feet. I was still nervous, very nervous, but I insisted on feeling confident and safe. He had me sit where I had started the night. His penis, still flaccid hung before me and beneath his ball sac that would take most of my two hands to cradle. The image before my eyes I had thought only belonged in the world of internet porn.

However, he did not leave it hanging over me. He went back behind the couch. "I think this is where we started," he whispered. His hands stroked my hair, "Close your eyes, Andrea." He started with the brush, still sitting on the back of the couch and then massaging the scalp, the forehead and then temple; the ball of fear that I had been fighting to suppress started to soften and shrink.

As his hands moved to my neck I lay my head back, eyes still closed. More tension drained from me and my breathing became slow and deep as his hands moved to my shoulders. His left hand found the zipper that closed the blouse over the shoulder, and he gently opened it exposing my left collar bone. It took both his hands to fully free the zipper and the blouse fell from my left shoulder, but it still was held over my breasts by the tight buttons running down my left side under my armpit.

Laying my head on my right shoulder, his left hand traced the pectoral muscle and the tendon from my neck down to my naked shoulder and then across the front of the collarbone and down my arm to the elbow. I gave a sigh of contentment as his hand came up and repeated the stroke again. This time, as his hand came up, it traced the front of the neckline of my now collarless shirt. His right hand guided my head back and then both hands massaged my shoulders, one bare and one still under cloth.

As his left hand continued to massage my bare shoulder, his right hand slid down over my shirt and across the top of my chest, his hand so large that the thumb and index finger glided along my neck and his pinky finger crossed the top of my right breast. I felt his finger through the lace of the brazier and my chest rose almost of its own accord seeking more contact. Responding to my desire, his hand dropped lower and cupped my clothed left breast. I lay my right ear on his bicep, my head now fully encircled by his right arm, as his right thumb slid across the nipple of my left breast. My breathing was no longer calm and slow.

"Don't you dare stop," I whispered, my breath slightly ragged. His response was to give my left breast a gentle squeeze and massage. I lifted my left arm and, reaching behind me, embraced him, my arm across the thick muscles of his glutes. My hand caressed his hip and his right buttock, but I also gave access to the buttons of my blouse running from armpit to hip. He did not decline the invitation, and I felt him undo the first button and I sighed again. Yes, clouds were being entered again.

The shirt loosened slightly with the undoing of that first button, and I felt his left hand start to work the second button as his right began to caress again along the neckline of the shirt. The second button popped and his right hand pushed the shirt gently down across my left breast. As the shirt fell away the forest green lace brazier came into view with my dark pink nipple and areola faintly visible beneath. He paused, "Your body is so perfectly beautiful," he whispered, "Even better in person than in pictures, and in pictures, you are divine."

"If one will speak of divinity in this room, they must speak of your hands," I whispered back. I opened my eyes and looked up. He was smiling down on me, but I barely noticed. For there it was. Now, now that I fully trusted him deep down in my heart, what I saw brought only wonder, and no fear. It hung large and swollen. His penis must have been almost ten inches and thicker than any penis I had ever seen before. It stood tall and turgid, enjoying what lay before it. Again I felt a rush of power and pride. I did that, the very thing I thought I was too young and too foolish to do. I knew that Tarik's patience helped, but in the future I would remember that I could do this; I could do it to anyone. I gently ran the index finger of my right hand from the base to the tip of his penis, "Now that is a thing of wonder," I said with heartfelt joy and curiosity. It twitched to my touch as if in answer.

He smiled down at me and I felt his hand gently circle my mostly bare breast. His left hand continued to unbutton my shirt while his right alternated between massaging my breast and gently sweeping my shirt aside as more buttons came free. As he explored my almost naked chest, I teased his balls and inner thighs with both of my hands while watching with rapt attention his penis twitch and dance in excitement.