When A Man Reads A Woman!

Oh.......my.........god!!!

An incredibly intense orgasm had just crashed through my body only a few seconds after my fingers started rubbing my clit. I had barely been civil when I arrived home and hurried to my room. Kicking off my shoes, I had thrown myself backwards onto my bed, pulled the gusset of my soaking knickers to one side and rushed my fingers to finish what he had started. To be fair I had been in state of high arousal for about five hours, having met him for the first time around five and half hours before, but still the speed and intensity of my cum took my breathe away.

Here was me, an erstwhile, respectable, highly professional lady feeling and acting like a slut. Only a few home before I had wantonly spread my legs and let this stranger plunge his fingers into my soaking cunt and then watched him lick the nectar from their tips as his eyes held mine. All this in a City wine bar.

But I am not telling this story well so let me go back to the start of the evening....

A few hours earlier I had left my London office and set off to meet a stranger. Well to be fair he was not a perfect stranger. I had contacted him less than two weeks earlier having seen his unusual, personal and very frank profile on a BDSM site. Like me, he did not feel like he fitted a label or stereotype. He was looking for a strong mental connection And there was some indefinable interest that made me reach out.

Our initial exchanges of messages had been a mix of polite, teasing and probing. When he suggested meeting for a glass of wine 'because it is only face to face that you find out if there is any real chemistry' it took me all of 10 seconds to reply, "Yes."

Now as I walked up to our rendezvous I saw him. He was much as I expected, tall, greying with a beard and assured. He was not watching everyone as they passed, instead he was looking at his phone and only looked up as I stood in front of him. He had lovely deep brown eyes. He smiled and I felt like a young woman again. To say I melted is an exaggeration, but I immediately felt comfortable in his presence. I know there was a smile across my face and I just naturally fell in step beside him as he guided us to the bar he had mentioned in his emails.

The bar was underground, quiet and pleasantly cool. We found a table and he checked again that I was happy to drink wine. "Dry white," I requested and he confidently returned with a bottle, two glasses and that smile.

He placed the two glasses down and as he sat opposite my right hand inadvertently crept across the table and started playing with the stem of one glass. As if the glasses were proxies for the two of us I unconsciously started a gently dance, my glass pushing up to and beside his, almost touching. Until now he had barely touched me, just a hand at my back as he guided me too this place, but now I wanted more. He just smiled and talked calmly as we started to learn more about our discovery of our relative Dominant and submissive sides. It was a very easy conversation.

As he talked I looked deeply into those deep, dark brown eyes while my glass still tangoed with his.

I felt myself drifting at points, my eyes closing as I just enjoyed his presence and the sound of his voice. He noticed this as I now know he noticed a whole lot more. I wanted his touch. I know this because my body was responding. I felt so wet and like the slut I am I heard myself say, "You have no idea how wet you are making me."

He smiled.

"But then again maybe you do?"

He smiled again and said, "And if I place my hand at the back of your neck like this?"

His large hand reached out and slipped around the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my short hair before he squeezed. In crunching his hand he gripped my neck and created that beautiful pain that comes from pulling of fine hair against sensitive skin. My eyes closed and my head dipped as I swam in his hold.

We had spoken about pain earlier and while I had stated that I didn't not like it, we had agreed that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain and that as part of a mix of stimuli it can be powerful.

He was showing me what he knew and I loved it. He played me like an instrument with his grip loosening and tightening as my animal response went straight to my cunt. If I had not been soaking before, I was now.

Releasing his grip he sat back and looked at me as I slowly opened my eyes, my breathing still heavy. I was close to orgasm with this stranger in a bar!!

"I am sopping wet," I said, looking him in the eye.

"I wish I could feel it," he said.

"You can."

With that I slid forward on my seat, my legs spreading, my knees either side of his. Here I was, feeling so sexy, in a public bar, pulling my skirt up to expose my translucent panties. Reaching around the side of the table his hand slipped between my thighs before his finger tips brushed the fabric barrier. He stroked momentarily before I pulled my panties aside giving him full access.

He was stretching across and around the table, but his finger tips still penetrated my sodden cunt.....not deep, but enough to coat them with my nectar. Had this not been so public I am sure he would have filled my cunt with his fingers and I would have let him, but with a degree of discretion he pulled his hand back.

He left me sitting with legs spread as he lifted his fingers to his lips and sucked my cunt juice from them. Our eyes were locked and while I smouldered he smiled. He then leant forward and offered those same fingers to me to taste.

I did and it was wonderful.

Another time, another (less public) place, I would have been his to fuck as he wished. Laid on the table. Bent across it. However he wanted to use me. To thrust his cock into my hot, hungry cunt and treat me as the wanton slut I felt - as I wanted to be his for that time - to lose myself and be used for his pleasure which ultimately would be my pleasure too.

But this was reality. We had just met for a chat and a glass of wine and a chat - no play - and while there were not many people around there were some. As we picked up our glasses, our eyes locked and I started to sink again.

He reached out and took my hand, holding it and gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. Inadvertently I sat forward and he did not fail to notice that I was offering my tits to him, fully clothed, but resting on the table in front of me and very much within his reach.

His hand slid deliberately across the table until his finger tips....oh those finger tips again....started stroking across my buried nipple. I was showing no cleavage wearing a high dress and bar, but his insistent touch strode back and forth across the my nipple, his touch making me slightly heady, until my bud become erect. Then he played me again.

His thumb and forefinger pinched....not too hard....but enough to open that highway to my cunt again. I flooded once more and my eyes closed and he possessed me at will.

I had come to the meeting expecting nothing, but I had certainly not expected this. It was more than I could have expected, both better and worse. Better in that I had found a man who could read me and play me well and was (or at least so far) shown that he was as much interested in me and my needs and wants as his own. Worse in that I needed to make sure that I did not act in the reckless way I so wanted to - I would have to be careful.

My head was swimming. Certainly It was part wine, but probably more him and the endorphins he had already tripped in our short time together. He noticed this and politely and genuinely offered dinner, but did not insist when I said I needed to be on my way home.

We finished our drinks, gathered our belongings and he escorted me back to the light.

.......

Outside he offered to walk me back to the station. He continued to guide me through the people and in crossing the busy streets. After all this was his town.

My hand slipped easily into his. His grip tightened slightly and it felt so right. Up to now, while he had fingered my cunt, he had not kissed me. I wanted him to but wondered if he would. I didn't need to fear.

As we approached the station, he pulled me into a corner, placed his hand at the back of my neck and kissed me in the lips. We became one as his tongue caressed my lips and invaded my mouth. Like his fingers in my cunt his tongue did not penetrate far, but far enough. It was not the deepest, most passionate kiss. Instead it proved a point and my body flooded with warmth again. That kiss held so much promise.

I felt him draw back slightly and then plant a gentle kiss on my forehead. This was the icing on the cake as the young girl was breathless again. I felt myself sink a little deeper inside myself, feeling safe and cared for.

He suggested that we meet again. Another drink and chance to explore further. It would be wrong to say that I wanted nothing more for at that moment I wanted a whole lot more, but to meet him again was a great next step. I agreed.

......

Sitting on the train going home I felt my inner thighs were still wet. I had been aroused for so long without release. I wanted to cum. Not as much as I wanted to have him use me as he wished, but it would do for now. There were too many people in the carriage and masturbating in the toilet seemed cheap after such a delightful evening.

Instead I replayed my memories. I felt his touch again in my mind. I revisited the happy places he had taken me. To an observer I sat with my eyes closed and could have been asleep. Only the broad smile on my face hinted that I was somewhere better than sleep.

......

Arriving home, I quickly said "Hi," and excused myself as needing to urgently visit the bathroom. My feet barely touched the steps as I rushed to my room. My shoes kicked off and my coat on the floor I soon found myself luxuriating in the after glow of the wonderful orgasm that had consumed me the moment my fingers rubbed across my clit and plunged into my cunt.

How did he read me so well? Where would this take me? I truly didn't know. I wanted to find out, but would I be brave enough to take the next step?