A girl has to set some rules for herself. One of my rules is to never go to his place the first time. I used to have a rule that I never put out on a first date, but after violating it for the umpteenth time I decided to drop that one. I feel much safer in my own apartment though. Not that nothing could go wrong there, of course, but my neighbors are pretty nosy so I think they'd probably come investigate if I yelled really loud. Also, if we're at my place he's the one who has to get dressed and go home.
Carrying a toothbrush and a spare pair of panties in my purse might seem to contradict that rule, but it's even more important for a girl to be prepared. I also carry condoms with me, and keep a spare tire in my trunk. I carry the toothbrush and panties with me for the same reason that I have the condoms and spare, just in case.
You never know what might happen, right? The odds are several billion to one that Johnny Depp will bump into me on the street and suggest we go back to his place, but what if that did happen? I'd be in Johnny Depp's room without a toothbrush being careful not to get my panties torn off before having unsafe sex. As unlikely as it is to happen I'd really like Johnny to tear my panties off. I'd come home without panties for him, and I might even let him go in bareback, but I couldn't go without brushing my teeth.
What if Angelina was with him and suggested a threesome? How could I turn that down?
“Sorry, I'll have to pass. I forgot my toothbrush.” I don't think so.
Most of the time, the vast majority of the time, with fairly numerous exceptions, I don't put out until the third date. First dates are for getting acquainted. Second dates are for getting to know each other better. Third dates are for getting each other naked. The lighting in my apartment is perfect for exhibiting my birthday suit. I spent several hundred dollars and hours of time getting it just right. I want his memories of me to be well lit, not illuminated by harsh bulbs or his flickering TV screen. I spend a lot of time exercising, follow a sensible diet and working on my skin. I go through the pain of Brazilian waxing and spend a small fortune on makeup.
Nobody hangs a Rembrandt on the wall and lights it with a 60 watt bulb.
Men, though. Their best laid schemes aside, what they are best at is ruining my best laid schemes.
It had been a terrific date, dinner, dancing, drinks and soft sweet jazz at Dante's. It had been pretty much everything I want from a first date. I had already decided that he was a second dater. I had already decided to put out a nice wine and put satin sheets on the bed for our next date. When the band finished their last set, he paid the tab, left a generous tip and took me by the hand to his car.
I got into the car, noting that his eyes were on my legs as I settled into the soft leather seat. I have practiced getting into and out of cars to afford just the right glimpse of thigh, and I could tell by his smile that he enjoyed the view. Maybe, I thought, he was going to wait until he got me home to ask me for a second date.
We drove a few blocks, took a right turn, then another and a few blocks later he pulled up into the parking lot of a row of townhouses. When he got out and opened my door I began to wonder if he expected me to take a cab home from there. He kissed me gently on the cheek as he helped me from the car, then leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips. It was as unpromising a goodnight kiss as I'd ever had.
I started going over the evening in my mind, wondering if I'd done something wrong.
“The one on the end is mine,” he said. He took my hand in his and walked in that direction. We were inside and he was turning the deadbolt before it occurred to me that he hadn't invited me in. He hadn't said, “Want to go back to my place?” He had simply taken me home with him.
It hadn't occurred to me to worry about anything until then. I was just beginning to worry a little bit when he took my coat and hung it on the coat rack in the foyer. He didn't seem like a maniac, but who can tell by looking?
The living room looked massive to me, much bigger than my own. It was all woods and leather and heavy glass, a man's space with rich deep colors. A wolf's den was the phrase that came to mind. The hungry look in his eyes didn't make me feel like a lamb so much as Little Red Riding Hood. I doubt that the wolf kisses the lamb like he kissed me anyway. His lips on mine felt like they belonged there. Lips made for my own. Lips I'd been waiting a lifetime for.
I knew that he was undressing me. I felt his hands taking my clothes off, but I seemed lost in a dream. He removed my little black dress, the one I'd spent so much time worrying over, unsnapped my bra, got my garter belt and hose off, leaving me standing there in his arms dressed only in my panties. I couldn't remember taking off my shoes though. Where were my shoes? Did I leave my purse in the car?
I asked myself these questions as he was carrying me upstairs in his arms. I hoped that I hadn't left my purse in the bar. There wasn't a lot of cash in it, but my drivers license and credit cards were. I could get those replaced and get my bank to cancel my cards if necessary, but what about my teeth?
What about my spare panties, I thought as he plopped me down on the bed, tearing the pair I was wearing at both sides before tossing them over his shoulder into the floor?
He held my ass in both palms as he buried his face between my legs. I groaned in pleasure as he nibbled and licked at me, his tongue and lips moving along the freshly waxed outer lips, grazing at the landing strip my bikini waxer had expertly shaped into a heart, the bottom tip of which was just above my clitoral hood. As it happened he didn't need any help finding my clit. I felt his tongue exploring me, opening the lips of my pussy, flicking my clitoris, making me so incredibly wet that for a second I was afraid that my period had suddenly started.
I pulled at his shirt, yanking it from his pants, and began to fumble with his belt. I felt very clumsy when I compared my efforts with the easy way he had gotten me naked downstairs. My clothes were a lot easier to take off though. I'm pretty sure that the designer had just such a situation in mind when drawing out the patterns. He helped by opening his shirt and moving back far enough so that I could get his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He wiggled enough to get them off, then pulled down his briefs and stepped out of them. There was nothing sexy about his underwear, a slight disappointment. I had gone out of my way to wear a pair of panties that a man would want to rip off me as soon as he saw them even though I hadn't planned on having sex, and he had donned tidy whities knowing full well that he planned to fuck me.
His cock looked so perfect. I have always been a fan of man parts. There is something fascinating about an erect penis, the thickness of the shaft, the velvet suppleness of the tip, the little drop of pre-cum that forms at the end.
I licked the little drop away, feeling his hand on my head, then took the head of his cock in my mouth, running my tongue around it. I looked up at him and his eyes met mine. They were the deepest blue eyes I'd ever looked into. His eyes seemed to be telling me that he owned me and would do with me as he pleased and that I would love it. I was surprised when he took it from my mouth and a condom seemed to appear in his hand. He must have had it palmed, but it seemed that it came from behind my ear.
I always loved magicians.
He tore the condom open with his teeth, rolled it down the shaft of his stiff dick, leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth before suddenly flipping me over, raising me to my knees and giving me a smack on the ass. I felt the tip of his cock against me.
“Fuck me,” I said.
He held me by the hips as he slid into me, opening my pussy with the head of his dick as he slid his thick cock deep inside me. I moaned in pleasure. I felt so full of him. He slowly withdrew, then re-entered me, pushing himself deeply inside.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
His cock felt huge inside me as he began to slide in and out of me, faster and faster. I lay with my head down as he fucked me. He reached between my legs with one hand to rub my clit, rubbing faster and faster, plunging deeper and deeper, until I was coming, thrashing and screaming for him to fuck me harder as I reached the peak and burst forth in ecstasy.
I felt him pull out of me, then felt him kissing the back of my neck. I turned toward him to meet his lips with my own, letting my tongue glide between his lips into his mouth. He tasted of peppermints and scotch with a hint of spice. He took me into his arms and rolled onto his back pulling me on top of him. I could feel his hard dick against my ass as I slid into position, felt him lift me slightly and go back inside my pussy.
I sat back and rocked, feeling the length of his penis. It took only a small touch on my clit to send me into orgasm. I collapsed forward onto his chest, feeling him fucking me gently as I squeezed myself around his rigid cock. It felt amazing. He gave my backside a little smack then another before moving his left leg outside mine and lifting the knee still between my legs to bring himself completely inside me, bringing his pubic bone up to where he could rub himself against me. He gave my ass a loud smack which brought me to the edge of explosion.
“Yes,” I said.
He smacked me again, and I shuddered, pushing myself back onto him, screaming and writhing as I rode his hard cock to orgasm. I wanted so badly to have him come inside me, to just take his condom off and fill me with his hot come. Rules are rules though, even if I'd broken most of them already. I collapsed onto his firm body and kissed him, tasting the salt of his sweat. “I want you to come,” I whispered.
“Next time,” he said.
“It's a matter of self discipline,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I had to admit. I'd worked off dinner very nicely.
“I'll fix us a snack,” he said.
“Have you seen my purse?” I asked getting off him. If he was thinking about food I had to have my toothbrush.
“I think you left it in the car,” he said. “Why don't you go get it while I get us something to eat?”
“I don't want to have to dress,” I said.
“There's no reason too,” he said. “You'd just have to get naked again anyway.”
When I thought about it that seemed very logical. I don't usually go outside naked on first dates either, but it's not really a rule. It's just something that hadn't come up before.
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