First Meeting

His eyes scanned the crowd in Grand Central, but he could hardly focus. Uncertainty furrowed his brow. The masses of people went by in a blur, for endless minutes as he searched for the object of his desire. Finally, at long last, their eyes met and they stood still, taking each other in. It was a shock, seeing for the first time a face so familiar from photographs, but at once rendered new and strange in the flesh. Her bright, green eyes were constant, reassuring, real.

Recovering his composure, he lifted his small bag, and strode quickly across the floor, a smile brightening his face. He extended his right arm, and she slipped her slender left through it. Her face upturned, she waited for him to speak. “I think I’d like a shower,” he said. And off they went, to catch the train to Brooklyn.

They did not sit together; she faced the opposite wall on a bench near the door, and he sat in the first perpendicular seat, studying her profile. In the artificial light of the subway, her reddish blond hair had a dirty look as it fell limply past her shoulders. She had dressed in a very low-cut, lacy top, that revealed her shoulders and the curve of her ample chest. He watched her breasts rise and fall with her breath, which was slightly faster than one might expect. Her hands, nails kept short and painted a girlish purple, clutched a medium-size black handbag in her lap. Her tight, skinny jeans revealed her round, slightly plump ass, her long, slender legs, and her up-to-date fashion sense. She turned her head towards him and turned up the corners of her broad mouth. Her lips were full and her normally pale face slightly flushed.

After some time, and a change of trains, they exited the subway and walked together a few blocks to the house in which she occupied the third floor. She unlocked the door and climbed the stairs ahead of him. Her keys opened another lock, and they were home.

He took the small, one-room apartment in with a glance, and then took a few long strides to the functional center of the room, where a futon and a worn but comfortable old chair flanked a makeshift coffee table. He set his bag on the table, and stretched his arms above his head. She moved to sit on the far end of the futon, daintily, not leaning back, but sitting up with a straight back, her legs uncrossed but together, and her hands folded on her knees. She turned her head up and watched as he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head. He kicked off his shoes, and undid the button on his jeans. Soon he stood naked and let her take in his tall, slender body, his chest covered in thick, dark hair, his fit-but-not-too-muscular frame. His cock was quickly growing erect. Her eyes went to it for a moment, and he smiled and lead her gaze back to it with his own. It was not exceptionally long, though not short, but it was quite thick when fully erect–as big around as his wrist, as he had previously informed her. As it reached it’s fullest growth, heavily pointing straight at her, he asked, “Do you have a robe and towel I could use?”

She stood and walked to a closet, out of which she produced both items, clean, white, and fluffy. She walked around behind him and held out the robe, which he slipped on, then handed him the folded towel and returned to the same seated position on the futon. He entered the small bathroom and shut the door. The sound of falling water filled the apartment.

After several minutes, he re-emerged, towelling dry his hair, the robe hanging open, exposing his still erect cock. She was sitting, motionless but for her eyes, in the same place. He hung the towl on the doorknob and slowly walked over and sat in the chair. “Come here,” he said, and she stood and moved to stand in front of him, hands at her sides. He took her left hand in his, and gently pulled her downward. She fell to her knees in front of him. She did not have to be asked to take his cock in her hand and begin to kiss it softly, her bright green eyes locked on his. Her full lips parted and her tongue snuck out to press against the head of his penis. Her right hand gripped the shaft tightly and slowly began to stroke up and down. Finally, she took a deep breath, dropper her gaze, opened her lips wider, and engulfed it in her pretty mouth. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes as her head began to bob very slowly, up and down, her tongue pressing firmly against the bottom of his shaft and occasionally wiggling in a way that made him moan softly. His eyes opened again just as she reached up with her left hand to push her hair away. She raised her gaze to his as best she could while continuing the languid blow job.

When her hair fell across her face a second time, he reached out and gathered it with his left hand, holding it behind her head. She continued to move up and down, slowly, never increasing her pace but instead altering the pressure of her lips, her hand, her tongue. She brought her left hand to cup his balls lightly, and he moaned his approval of this move. His right hand reached out as well, and slipped between her bent arm and her fact to cup her breast through her shirt, and then to slide inside. Her nipples were hard, her breasts full and heavy.

After a while, he used his grip on her hair to pull her mouth away–firmly, but not ungently. She let go of his cock and fell back onto her heels, his hand slipping out of her shirt. He stood, leaving the robe on the chair, then let go of her hair, put a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his, then applied the slightest additional pressure to signal her to rise to her feet. He kissed her, and reached down to unfasten her jeans. She pushed them down, shimmying to get the tight denim over her hips. They broke their kiss, and there was an awkward moment during which she removed her shoes and struggled to get the skinny legs over her calves. Then the jeans were on the floor, and they were kissing again, but only for a moment before her shirt interrupted on its way over her head. Once she was stripped down to her underwear, a matching set, black and lacy, he reached around her and pulled her to him, smashing her chest against his and kissing her long and passionately.

Soon, even the underwear was too much, and he fumbled with the clasp of her bra for a few seconds as they kissed, until it was undone. Their bodies parted just enough to let it fall to the floor as she shrugged it off her shoulders. She reached down and slid her panties off her hips, and they too fell to the floor, where she stepped gracefully out of them. His hands went to her breasts, squeezing them gently for a moment before his right hand slid down her smooth, trim stomach and through her well-trimmed pubic hair to her pussy. She spread her legs just enough to give him access, and his fingers found her clit. She was extremely warm and wet. She moaned at the initial contact, and bit his lower lip slightly as he began to move his middle finger in small, slow circles. She broke their kiss and buried her face in his neck, breathing heavily.

This went on only for a short time before he stopped touching her clit, gently pushed her body away from his by the shoulders, and led her around the table and to the futon. He moved behind her and pushed her gently towards it with a hand on her ass. She knelt on the futon, her legs spread about a foot at the knees, her hands on the back, her back slightly arched, facing the wall. His hands went to her ass again, one on each cheek, grabbing, kneading her flesh slightly. Suddenly, he smacked her ass with his right hand, just hard enough to sting a little and then immediately fade. She whimpered. He smacked her other cheek. She whimpered again. His hand then moved between her legs, and he rubbed her clit for a second before pushing his middle finger into her vagina. She moaned as it slid in easily. She was wet, open, and ready to be penetrated.

He removed his finger from her pussy and grabbed her shoulders with his hands, turning her torso to face the end of the futon. She obliged him by turning the rest of her body to follow suit. Then he somewhat roughly pushed her forward. Her hands shot out in front of her to steady her. On her hands and knees on the futon, he continued to push her downward, and she slowly lowered herself until her face rested on its side on the futon, facing inward. Her ass was in the air, her legs spread as far as they could go on the narrow futon. He smacked her ass again, then moved to kneel behind her.

He placed the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy, and held it there. She pushed back against him slightly, but he stopped her with a hand on her ass. He did not move for several seconds, but remained poised to penetrate her. Finally, slowly, he moved forward, just a centimeter or two. She gasped as she felt the head of his cock touch her lips and begin to push them apart. He stopped and rested there for a second, and then smacked her ass once more. Then he began to slide his cock into her.

She took the first inch or so surprisingly easily, but then the widest part of his thick cock met her lips, and he felt resistance. She whimpered again as he pushed for a second, but failed to make any progress. He stopped pushing and just waited, feeling her warm wetness surround the head of his cock. He ran a hand up her long, smooth, white back, leaning foward to reach her hair, which he grabbed again and pulled slightly as he pushed his cock into her once more. She gasped. Still, he felt resistance, so he eased off, releasing her hair and leaning back, pulling out just a tiny bit. His hands went to her ass, squeezing, not so gently, but not painfully. Smacking her ass one more time, he pushed forward again. There was still some resistance, but he did not let up this time. She drew in a sharp breath as he ever-so-slowly pushed his thick cock into her. Finally, after a couple of seconds that seemed much longer, the widest part was past her lips, and he slid the rest of his cock into her easily, in one long stroke. She moaned loudly at the sensation, before he again stopped moving, his entire cock buried deep inside her.