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Dan And Sophie (CLOSED but readable by all)

Dan waited for Sophie's reaction. He expected one of two things: either, she turned to him, cursed at him some more, then left ... or, she simply left.

Either way, he'd screwed up.
 
"How about it Sophie?" I repeated "Just you and me and some food on a plate..."

"Yes." she said simply and sincerely, "I'd love too."

I took a step back, and made a gentlemanly gesture back toward the gazebo
 
Dan opened a large whicker basket and began removing plastic containers.

"These have been here since yesterday," he said. "I ... was supposed to have lunch with a ... a beautiful woman. But I ... I sort of got buried under a mountain of boxes, and forgot."

He turned to her, offered out a container -- it was filled with a simple tuna salad made with canned olives, mushrooms, and sliced pickles -- then said, "I'm ... not much of a chef. And the guy who runs this place ... not very free with his recipe items. Sorry
 
She felt good.

It was the first thing that entered his mind as soon as he understood she wasn't going to stab him with one of the plastic sporks laid out on the table.

She feld good ... unbelievably great ...

He raised one hand to pull they faces together, intensifying the kiss; he lowered the other hand, trying -- inconspicuously, but likely not succeeding --in maneuvering him into a straddle position over the rapidly swelling growth in his lap
 
"Please," she whispered.

No woman had said that word to Dan, in the way Sophie had said it, in six months ... but his body, oh, his body felt as though it had been six years.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, shifted her body.

Dan felt his erection press firmly into the welcoming wedge of her sweat panted thighs. God almighty those damn sweat pants. Of all the un-sexy, least accessible clothes to try to "get to" a woman in ... the only thing worse was a concrete chastity belt.

"Please! Dan, PLEASE!"

He pulled his mouth away from hers, pressed his lips onto her neck, kissing, sucking biting.

And then he remembered what was on the 4th floor and said between bites and kisses, "I have something to show you."
 
"I have something to show you." Dan repeated, winkiong.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh....I'll just bet you do!"

She reached to Dan groin, grasping his zipper.

His eyes widened. "No!"

Sophie's eyes widened. "No?"

Dan hesitated, then laughed loudly. "No. I mean ... yes ... but no, not here. I mean."

He drew an embarrassed breath, calmed himself, and explained, " I have something ELSE ... that I want to show you. First ... downstairs."

He utilized her strength and positioning to lift her -- his hands clasped to her buttocks --up out of the chair with him, then stood her before him. Looking in her eyes -- seemingly surprised, and he could understand why -- he asked, "Will you go downstairs with me ... to my place?"
 
If you had been kidnapped, blindfolded, and carted her with no understanding of your surroundings, you would never have known you were on the 4th floor of a storage facility.

The "bed chamber" featured a king sized canopy bed, antique oak and felt furniture, wall to wall carpet with a huge persian rug underlying a black steel and glass top dining table.

The walls had been painted and trimmed, paintings hanging upon them. A wrought iron steel coat stand featured half a dozen coats of leather, fur, and tweed.

Dan walked slowly about, lighting candles, tall one, short ones, fat one; standing in glass jars or in tall candelabras. He stopped behind Sophie, unable to see her reaction, see her expression.

"This is my bedroom," he said softly. "Like it?"
 
"Wrestling match?" Dan asked in a soft voice. He made his way toward the bed -- slowly, ever so slowly, watching her bounce around.

She likes it here. I like that she likes it here. I hope that she likes to be here ... often.

"Wrestling match?" he repeated, reaching out playfully and snagging the toes of one foot. "I ... was thinking something like that."
 
When opportunity knocks ...

Dan leaped onto the bed, laughing with sophie. He grasped each of her legs refusing to let her escape, and tickling at her feet and the back of her knees looking for that sweet spot.

But his technique less about tickling then it was to cause his curling fingers and Sophie's own wriggling to draw her sweats farther downward.

Oh, god ... what an ass ...
 
Dan smiled ... it was a knowing devilish smile.

He raised himself tall upon his knees between her calves , towering over her as she hid "herself" in her hands.

He arched his back, lifted his head high, lifted his arms slowly out to his sides ... like Zeus ... preparing to reign his wrath down upon the minions.

He intensified his power upon her with a mighty glare ...

... then...

... brought his hands together in a mighty slap ... ! ... twice ...!

And the lights went out...
 
OOC: I had intended to write in the first person, but hadn't started. Going to now.

It was that awkward moment, when your hovering over a woman who is removing her clothes, and you realize that, in order to get out of your, you either: a, have to get off the bed, strip, get back ON the bed; or b, roll all around the bed as you first strip your hips then your knees then your feet, which are probably still bearing the tied shoes you forgot to take off BEFORE you shoved your slacks to your calves. ...

Why can't we all just run around naked, I thought, so were always ready for this.

A wide smile spread across my face at the thought. Sophie eyed me with a cocked head, but didn't say anything -- probably out of surprise -- as I leaped from the bed, kicked off my shoes, stripped myself bare below the waist and was ripping my shirt off even as I was flying back up onto the mattress to slide right up between her thighs ... to kiss her.

I laid my penis -- as hard as I could remember it ever having been right upon her, slowly pulling it back until I was just in position.

"I'm clean and I'm cut," I said, without even considering how she might respond. I needed her to know that I had considered her before I had her. "But I found ... you know, if you want me to get one."

I met her eyes ... those amazing eyes, and waited for her to make the next move.
 
I slipped arms up over hers, placed my elbows outside her shoulders. I swept my hands under her neck ... tilted her head back ... found her juglar with my mouth, kissing her soft, but wet.

I pushed into her. She was tight, but wet; she arched her back, raised her knees ... allow the "intrusion". I slid my entire length into her in one, long, slooow movement until our groins were pressed together.

My god ...

Oh ... my god ... unbelievable.

I wanted to fuck her already ... stroke myself again and again and again until I exploded but ...



She was laughing.

The fact that she was laughing wasn't the problem. The problem was my not knowing whether she was laughing because I had erupted inside her before I had even got an opportunity to DO anything ... or whether she was laughing because I was, myself laughing so hard -- embarrassed, humiliated, stunned laughter -- at the evidence of my time out of action.

As I recovered myself, reached a point in my breathing where I could actually formulate words, I asked her with all the hope in the world, "You're not gonna count this against me are you?"
 
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