Brian Ch 1 The Third Date Part 3

I clasped my hands together behind my back, noticing that my breathing had increased. I felt so hot, so turned on by all of this. He voice was getting a little rougher and I thought he was too. He stepped close enough to me now that I could smell him. He smelled of clean, and of the faint aromas of our dinner, and deeper a musky scent of maleness touched with a bit of sweat. It was arousing, the natural smell of him.

He touched the left side of my face, cradling my chin in his hand, and I leaned into him palm. But he didn’t stay. He drew his hand down my throat, my chest, and lightly touched the tops of my breasts, his other hand rested on my hip. He moved around me, clockwise, touching me as he moved.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, “Do you feel safe?”

“Yes,” I nodded, “I do.” He was making his way from behind me coming around my left side, his hands still moving across my body, exploring.

“Sir,” he said. “Yes I do, Sir,” he repeated firmly. I got the message.

“Yes I do, Sir,” I swallowed, “I feel safe, thank you, Sir.”

He was in front of me now, his body almost touching mine. I wanted so badly to touch him, to run my hands over his chest, to draw him closer to me. He brushed my long hair off my neck then leaned down so he could kiss me there. His mouth was hot, wet, and I groaned leaning my head to the side to give him better access. His kisses trailed down my throat, then to the other side. His tongue darted across the exposed skin of the tops of my breasts. He unbuttoned the rest of my top and pushed it off my shoulders.

“Ahh,” I moaned, ”Please.” I don’t even remember forming the thought but I heard the word I had just spoken as if it came from someone else. His movements slowed, listening to me carefully. I struggled to find the words to articulate what I wanted.

“Please,” I started again. It was like he was enjoying my efforts, knowing he was distracting me with his touch.

“Please, Sir, let me touch you.” The words finally together in one sentence, I let my breath out completely. I needed to touch him, to know how he felt. I could sense him watching me. He’d left his hands on my body but he was no longer moving.

“Well,” I could hear the smirk in his voice, “since you asked so nicely, ok.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir.” I released my hands from behind my back letting my blouse fall to the ground and tentatively reached forward. He had pulled his own hands off my body but didn’t move away. I easily found his chest and placed both hands flat as if trying to touch as much of him as I could. I leaned my forehead into him, his scent stronger with the closeness, and I rested there for a few breaths.

He was patient and still, allowing me to explore his body with my hands. His chest felt firm, almost hard, and there was a little softness at his belly. My right hand moved slowly up towards his face. I could feel a roughness of stubble on the underside of his chin and followed it up the side of his cheek. My left hand found the opposite side of his face. Gently, my fingers explored his features. He must have taken his glasses off already because I didn’t find them. I did find his broad forehead, and felt the short wiry dark hair at his temples. My fingertips rested over his closed eyes, lingering for only a moment, then I continued down his nose and found his mouth slightly open.

I concluded my initial explorations by lowering my arms and wrapping them around his waist. I pressed my body to his as his arms enclosed me in an embrace. My hands settled on the firm, tight muscles of his bottom and I could feel, finally, his hard cock against my belly. I smiled to myself knowing he couldn’t see my expression because my face was buried in his chest. I knew my body was matching his, swollen, pulsing, and slippery wet.

My hands found his nipples through his shirt and I rubbed them gently feeling them tighten and harden. I located the buttons on his shirt, and after a little bit of fumbling I figured out how to undo them. I worked my way down, pulling his shirt out of his jeans so I could finish the buttons. I slid my hands over his bare chest feeling small, light hairs that I could only assume were as dark as the hair on his head. He wriggled out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor.

I was kissing his chest with more urgency now, lightly flicking my tongue over his nipple. He was indulging me, I knew, allowing me to do what felt good. As my hands found the waistband of his jeans, I turned my face up expecting his mouth on mine. Instead he grabbed my wrists, one in each hand, and stopped me.

“Not yet,” he groaned in need. “I want to talk with you first.”