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Driving through the town, intermittently clicking on and off the map light as I look again and again at the directions, trying to make sure that I don’t get lost, I shiver with anticipation and more. I’ve already memorized the directions a dozen times; looking at them is really nothing more than a nervous tick now.
The rental car is proving to be a constant environmental challenge as I attempt to find the proper balance inside. If I adjust the heat to warm my body, the windows almost immediately begin to fog, due to the cold and intermittent rain on the outside. When I switch to defrost, however, the interior begins to drop in temperature, allowing the outside cold to seep in. Ultimately, I have to use the car’s defroster in order to be able to see outside. Thus, I tremble and shake as I’m driving to her, despite the heavy coat that I’m wearing. Fortunately, the streets are well marked, and I am making progress towards her door without having to retrace any steps. I am now only blocks away.
At last I drive up in front of her house. I turn off the ignition and slump back into the seat. I had not realized until I got here how much nervous energy I had spent in the combination of paying attention to the road, wracking my brain to make sure that I hadn’t forgotten anything, and anticipating what was about to happen. I need to rest for a moment and take it all in. I am trying to regain the confidence I felt when we made plans for the meeting a month ago. How sure I was that I could please her and make her happy. I was sure that I knew her tastes. We’d been corresponding for so long, talking about so many things, I felt like I knew her better than anyone I’ve ever known. But uncertainty and insecurity were beginning to creep in now that I was sitting outside her front door.
Throughout our on-line correspondence she has been dropping hints here and there about her preferences and fetishes, but never coming straight out with her ‘wish list’. She always wanted to remain mysterious. I thought bahis firmaları of it as her way of making sure I was thinking about her. She was always just behind an opaque veil, remaining tantalizingly in view, but never allowing me to see her in her entirety. I found it erotic and exciting trying to peer through the veil, at the same time being excited by her enigmatic nature.
Of course, not knowing adds an element of uncertainty and risk to this meeting. There is always that chance that she is holding something back, wanting me to guess, wanting me to unlock and discover that secret knowledge that no other man has discovered, and use that knowledge to surprise and delight her. But if I missed the clues, or interpreted them wrong, it could prove…interesting.
For the hundredth time, I check the items I’ve brought with me. The dozen coral roses, her favorite, are stunning; the bold color is a lovely contrast to the frail petals in full bloom. They stand as a symbol of our mutual desire. In the flower basket there are two bottles of her favorite wine, more knowledge learned from our hours of correspondence. These are the only items in which I have complete confidence in my choices. She purposely let that knowledge slip, I think, for my pleasure as well as her own, so that I would at least know I could do this for her.
I think the rest of the items I have brought along will also bring her pleasure. The massage lotions that warm to the touch, scented with various exotic fruits, are an intimate compromise I hope she’ll find amusing. It wasn’t practical to bring all the things with me to carry out her fantasy of having her body covered with whipped cream and berries, so I brought what I hoped would be the next best thing. I have imagined her naked lying on her stomach as I sit astride her thighs, giving her a deep massage, then bending down to plant soft kisses along her lower back and buttocks. For desert, I have chocolate flavored body paint, with which I plan to ravenously indulge my kaçak iddaa sweet tooth.
Also in the basket is a small book of erotic poetry that I purchased. Taking a chapter from another of our discussions, I combed the ancient local bookstore in my neighborhood for three hours to find just the right book. I hope that some of the passages will arouse her to the point that touching her skin will bring about an electric spark. Next to the book are silken cords that I may use to bind her, although I haven’t decided about that yet. I have imagined tying her hands to the headboard and reading the erotic poems to her, all the while slathering her body with wet kisses and stroking her until she begs me for release, both literally and figuratively.
I’ve also brought a blindfold, though this is not for use with the ropes. I want to sit her in the middle of the room wearing only the blindfold, so that I can stroke and touch her all over, giving her the feeling of anticipation and uncertainty that comes from not knowing where or when or how I’ll touch her next. Although I’m already feeling the excitement and need that I know are only just beginning, I imagine myself touching and teasing her for a long time before I do anything for my own pleasure.
Finally deciding I am ready for the long walk up her sidewalk, I shed my coat. I flip down the vanity mirror and take one last look, running my fingers through my short blonde hair and adjusting the bow tie for the millionth time to be sure it’s straight. I take my gifts and step out of the car into the cold evening air, which is offset by the warm feeling of anticipation and excitement the moment has created.
I think that the things I have brought as gifts for her will please and thrill her. But as I make this long walk, I realize that I can’t be sure that she isn’t into nipple clamps, or cock cages, or rubber pants and diapers, or a hundred other things that I might not have fathomed from our hours of discussion. I think to myself that if she answers kaçak bahis the door in skin-tight latex, wearing a mask and trailing a whip, I’m not sure whether I’ll have the nerve to cross the threshold.
I press the buzzer and take a step back from the door. The months of anticipation are welling up inside me, making me more nervous than I can ever remember being. I want so much to make this night perfect. Now it’s all I can do to keep from turning and running away. After a thousand years, I hear the locks turning. Taking a deep breath, I thrust my chest forward. I can almost sense her standing behind the door, smiling and making me wait, as the door seemingly takes forever to start to slowly swing open. And then I gaze upon her for the first time.
She is resplendent in a shimmering full-length red nightgown, slit up the side to the hip, with thin straps at the shoulders. It hugs her form sensually without being tight, showing her full feminine curves. I gain just a glance of her cleavage before she pulls the matching housecoat around herself against the cold. Looking me over from head to toe slowly, she forms just the hint of a smile on her lips.
“Are those for me?”
“Yes,” I said, handing her the bouquet.
“They’re lovely,” she said, breathing the scent of them deeply, and sensually stroking the petals. “They’re my favorites.” I smile at that. I know they’re her favorite, and she knows that I know: she’s merely extending this exquisite final moment of anticipation before I cross her threshold.
“And the basket?”
“Those things are for you, too. I brought some wine, and some other things for later.”
“Mmm…wonderful. And is that for me, too?”
“Well, then, I think that you should bring it in hear where it’s warm.”
“I’d like that.” With that, I walk past her and through the door, turning to face her as she swings the door closed.
“Weren’t you worried about walking from the car wearing nothing but a bow tie?”
“Well, yes…but only because of the shrinkage.”
“You know,” I say, gesturing down. “Because of the cold…”
“Oh…well, I guess we’ll have to do something about that.”
“I was hoping you’d say that…”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32