First impressions

Christo Smit

"I'm here."

The mere words suddenly make your tummy contract with both anticipation and trepidation. You whip your head to and fro, eyes sweeping across a mιlange of faces through the smoke, searching for the familiarity of a photo.

Damn it, he probably looks a lot different now, you think to yourself, standing up from your barstool to see better.

It's about seven in the evening and the club is stacked with the proverbial "a quick-1-after-work" crowd. The air is thick with laughter, a rocking beat (you think it's Creed) and a thin blue haze.

"Where are you?" you ask, your voice almost betraying your nerves. For fuck sakes, you admonish yourself, I've spoken to him a million times! Why am I so jittery? You take a deep breath and crane your neck further, still fruitlessly trying to catch a glimpse of dark hair … maybe even a goatee.

"I can see you."

Your heartbeat immediately doubles its rate. His voice is thick with a slyness you haven't heard before. You spin around, but still nothing.

"Where?" Almost anxious, your knuckles white on your cell phone. For a moment there is only breathing on the line.

"You look stunning."

You can feel the flush spreading from your neck to your cheeks.

"Th-thank you," you stammer. "You know, if you show yourself I might be able to repay the compliment."

There's an obvious smile in his voice.

"Not yet … I'm enjoying the view."

Again a moment's silence.

"I love the way that skirt hugs your ass."

Normally a man talking that way would piss you off no end. But there's something in his voice … an unspoken promise … most likely involving your ass. A shiver runs down your spine. You complete the umpteenth 360 degrees in an effort to see the man behind the voice. Still bloody nothing.

"Thank you … Oh c'mon! You're killing me here!" You hate the whine in your voice but you don't think your heart can stand this much longer.

"In a moment … please sit down." His voice conjures up images of good red wine, or dark chocolate.

That "Santa Clause's coming" feeling turns in your tummy again. You move to sit down on the stool, but a sharp "Wait!" stops you in mid-air.

"Slowly … sit down … slowly."

You don't know why, but you obey, a warmth beginning to spread through your body. You let yourself settle with infinite slowness on the barstool, aware of the way your skirt silkily slides up your legs, partly revealing shapely thighs. Two can play this game, you think, and with a laboured deliberateness lift one leg and cross it over the other, knowing the treasured darkness in between would be teasingly visible for a pregnant moment. An audible groan over the phone confirms your success.

"God …"

You smile. "Well mister, if you want more of that, you had better start showing your face." The huskiness of your voice surprises even yourself.

"Almost …" He has to clear his throat before continuing. "Take off your jacket."

Again your heart skips a beat and your breath catches in your throat. You can't help the smile that crosses your lips. You put the phone down on the counter and start unbuttoning the matching jacket which overhangs your skirt. You take care not to rush … milking each movement for all the sexual energy you can. Once the last button releases its hold you lift your hands and slowly start to slide it off your bare shoulders and down your arms, deliberately arching your back, forcing your breasts against the thin white material covering them. You're wearing an open-back, open-shoulder top without a bra, so you know he can see clearly what his little escapade is doing to you. For some reason this excites you immensely and you can feel that familiar glowing in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the phone again and this time you can hear the cocky self-assuredness has been replaced by a restrained breathing … like a predator waiting to pounce.

"You want some of this?" You're sure your smile can be heard over the phone.

"Go to the dance floor!" Harsh. Commanding.

"No. You come here."

"Please …" Almost pleading. "Go ... go dance for me."

You think about it for a split second … and then get up and almost feline-like start towards the crowded dance floor. The music is hypnotic, the rhythms reverberating through the gyrating mass, the heat of bodies in motion enveloping you as you enter the maelstrom. You close your eyes and give yourself to the primitive urges inside all of us … and you start moving. Slowly at first ... seductively. Your hips start to move, your hands gliding down your neck and over your breasts. You throw your head back, enjoying the feelings of rhythmic energy coursing through you.

Suddenly he's there … his presence behind you. You don't know how you know it's him, you just know. You fight the urge to open your eyes, and instead keep on dancing. Although, dancing is far too an inferior word to describe what you are doing. You lean your body back against his, your ass touching his pelvis, your back against his chest, your head resting on one shoulder. Almost immediately you feel his energy. He's almost thrumming with it, barely containing it. You move against him, trying to keep as much contact with him as possible. It takes mere seconds for your buttocks to feel his reaction … hot … throbbing. You smile triumphantly and push back against his erection, knowing that now the command has shifted. You are in control now.

Still not turning around, you reach back and take his hands, placing them on your moving hips, sliding them up your side and down again to your upper thighs.

Slowly he is starting to move as well … his hips gathering rhythm and starting to keep pace with yours. His hands move up again and this time lightly graze the sides of your breasts. You gasp, the sudden sensation catching you by surprise. His left hand circles your ribcage, pulling you back slightly, his right hand sliding down your tummy, coming to rest inches below your navel, gently forcing your pelvis against his.

The music is a waterfall around you … forcing your bodies into motion … sweeping you away in a lustful twisting and gyrating that makes you dizzy with excitement. It's as if the beat of the music is an echo of the beat of both your hearts, resonating in sync. Animalistically you grind against each other, your bodies yearning for more and more contact. You can feel he is rock-hard now and he knows that you can feel it.

Abruptly the song ends. Heaving, you still stand against each other, you facing away from him. You open your eyes, seeing the crowds of sweating, laughing yuppies as if through a silken veil. They are nothing to you. Your present universe revolves only around the presence behind you. You can smell his sweat mingling with a dark and sweet cologne. Heat is coming off him in overlapping waves. His hands are still resting on your hips, his touch gentle and assuring.

As if in a slow-motion scene in a movie, you start to turn around. The crowd passes in front of your eyes as if you're on the world's slowest merry-go-round. His hands are sliding across your hips and sides as you turn, his touch leaving little trails of electricity behind.

Finally your eyes find each other … and the rest of the world ceases to exist. You are lost in two dark, all-encompassing pools. You feel yourself slowly sinking into their warmth, their comfort, their predatory promise of pleasure unimaginable.

"Hi …" He's still breathing deeply, his mouth open. His gaze doesn't leave yours for even a split second.

"Hi yourself," you hear yourself say from a far-off place. You can't let go of his eyes. They are like tractor beams in those old science fiction movies, pulling you closer … closer ... closer.

Your lips meet in an electrical explosion of pent-up lust. You feel him exhale into your mouth, his breath tasting of whiskey and something sweet. His mouth is hot … becoming more urgent. You are losing yourself in the moment. Nothing else exists. You kiss back with a fervour you have never experienced before. His tongue invades your mouth, but yours is ready and wrestles back … sucking … licking … teasing. Your bodies are moulded against each other. His hands are sliding up and down your back, making the naked skin tingle. You kiss him harder, as if trying to devour him. His mouth is a drug and you can't get enough. A small moan exudes from deep within your throat and you are feeling slightly faint.

Suddenly it's over. He pulls back and again stares into your eyes, this time with uninhibited lust.

"God, I want you …"

It feels as if you are floating above the ground. Your heart is clamouring against your ribcage, between your legs you can feel the black g-string already moist, your swollen nipples crying out for his touch. All the months of chatting, telephone calls, e-mails … it's all boiled down to this.

"Yes …" is all you can muster.

Without saying a word he takes your hand and steps off the dance floor. Past the bar you rush … left … right ... right again and then up a staircase. You are totally disoriented, but powerless to resist his urgent pull.

Suddenly a door opens into darkness and you are dragged inside. It's a deserted office. The door closes and you are suddenly enveloped by silence and pitch blackness. The office smells of old paper and aircon.

And him.

The door has hardly closed when your mouth is attacked by his. It's as if he's trying to suck your very soul from your body. His hands roam across your body … up and down your back ... over the roundness of your buttocks, pulling you against him. You are totally inflamed. There's a fire burning in the pit of your stomach that can be quenched by only one thing …

You push hard against him and he thuds against the door. Your hands are behind his head, forcing his mouth harder onto yours. Your one leg has encircled his waist, his hand cupping the naked thigh. You grind your pelvis against his, feeling his pants starting to bulge again. You drop one hand and cup his growing penis. He inhales sharply, his body jerking as if shocked. You smile to yourself and start working your palm up and down his still clothed shaft. The small moans emanating from him bear testimony to your success.

But he is not idle. His other hand has slid down your back and below the hem of your skirt, which has lifted almost to your buttocks, and has started a slow rhythmical caress of your bare ass. First on the outside, drawing gentle circles, then making smaller swoops towards the centre. You know that soon he will feel your excitement on his fingers and that arouses you even more. You don't know whether to push forward against his now rock-hard cock or tilt back towards his questing fingers. Luckily he makes that decision for you … His hand slips between your grinding bodies, moves down under your skirt and nestles between your legs, enveloping the now sodden crotch of your g-string in his palm. Unlike other men's, his touch is firm yet gentle. No fumbling or squeezing or pinching. Just the gentle friction of his palm against your swollen lips as he rocks his hand slowly back and forth. You cry out softly and squeeze your thighs together, capturing his hand in a vice of hot skin. Your hips start moving against his hand, increasing the speed and the friction. The sensation is mind-blowing and you close your eyes in ecstasy.

You let go of his cock and your hands find their way to his belt. For a moment you fumble with the buckle, but soon the two ends hang loose down the front of his pants. Teasingly you draw down the zipper, taking care to press against the bulge underneath as you pass it. He draws in a shivering breath as you do so and you feel the fingers on your mound increase their pressure. You let the pants fall around his ankles and pull back to look at him. He's wearing a pair of tight boxer shorts, but the crotch is so distended now that the elastic is almost pulling away from his stomach. The sight of what you have caused brings your blood to boiling-point and you reach out and almost tear off the thin fabric. His cock jumps into view … shiny … throbbing … eager.

As if that was a cue for him he grabs you and swings you around - your back against the wall now. He reaches under your skirt and in one swift motion tears the g-string right off. He slides the skirt up over your hips, lifting you up and moving himself between your legs, which seem to have spread of their own accord. You raise them and enclose his body in a vice, pulling him closer to you. Your heartbeat is deafening now, your breathing harsh and ragged … as is his.

Suddenly you feel it … his cock is at your entrance. Your world freezes. That single moment seems to last forever. He's wet … and very, very warm. His head is gently resting against your clit and each throb shoots a little charge through your body, as if your connection is generating a current. You tilt your hips forward …

Your simultaneous moan reverberates around the room. His cock slides into you as if your sheath was made just for him. It feels as if he is expanding inside you, conquering you from the inside. Becoming you.

You can hardly breathe. Every nerve end is screaming out in ecstasy. It's almost too much to bear.

His hands cup your ass and pull you fully onto him, his breath escaping his lips in a thin whistle. You can almost feel every ridge on his cock, every vein, every little hollow.

Then he starts to move … deliberately and slowly at first, each little movement bliss on its own, each spearing thrust making you want to cry out. You can feel the muscles of your body tensing … trying to squeeze as much sensation out of the moment as possible. His breath is hot in your neck, his scent invading your nostrils. You're not even touching the ground, almost as if his cock has harpooned you against the wall.

He increases his tempo and again you cry out. In … out … in … out … in … out. Your nails scrape long red tracks down his back and over his ass, your hands cupping them, feeling the big muscles contracting and releasing with each forward motion.

Deep inside you, you feel something starting to build … like a snowball rolling down a hill, gathering mass and momentum. Your legs are pulling and releasing him with a wildness all their own, the muscles on the insides of your thighs quivering and twitching.

Again he speeds up … each thrust now physically lifting you up the wall, which is cold against your steaming back. The air is thick with the smell of sex.

Your pussy feels as if it is aflame … all sensation pooling between your legs … the place where you're connected to each other, the focal point of the universe. Your head is thrown back, your mouth wide open, sucking in the much-needed oxygen. Your hips are thrusting against him, grinding your clitoris against his pelvic bone with as much strength you can muster. His hands are clasping your ass so hard his fingers are leaving indents in the soft skin.

You don't care whether you're heard anymore. Your voice and his groans echo around the room. His thrusting is frantic now and inside you, you can feel him touching the core of you. The ecstasy is unbearable, every fibre in your being yearning for release. The pressure inside you is building and building …

Suddenly you feel one of his hands release the cheek it was holding … and then a finger trails down the valley between your buttocks. The sudden sensation is totally unexpected and is the match to the gunpowder.

"Ohgod! ..."

Every muscle, every sinew, every cord goes into spasm. A fireball explodes inside your head and your lungs feel as though they are about to burst. For a fleeting moment it seems as if your soul is leaving your body and you're flying in the night sky. Coloured lights flash behind your eyelids and you feel a hotness escape between your legs.

Then he's forcing himself against you, crushing you against the wall, the muscles beneath your hands flexing to the point of tearing. One deep thrust inside you and he pauses … on the edge … not breathing … not moving. You feel him … twitching … throbbing … coiled. You lift his head and look into his eyes, forcing his gaze upon yours. For what seems an eternity you focus on the ecstasy in each other's eyes, on this moment, this pinnacle of your lust … and then, holding his stare, you contract your pussy around his twitching cock. It is enough. His breath escapes between his teeth in a violent burst as he explodes, his arms crushing you against him, his hips thrusting himself as deep inside you as he can go. Your insides suddenly feel doused in lava, the sudden heat bringing on another orgasmic wave and you clutch at him as if for your life as your cry echoes around the old office.

You both ride the crest of the wave, your bodies trying to merge with each other … spasming … clutching … barely drawing breath. It's as if there's no end to the pulsing of him inside you as he releases his essence into you. It's as if both of you have entered another dimension where no thought exists, only sensation, pleasure and feeling. You feel as if you're flying and swimming at the same time, your bodies touched by the gentle caress of water and air simultaneously.

Then, as if a cord has been cut, you both let go and collapse on the floor, you on top of him. The real world starts returning while two sets of deprived lungs gasp for precious air. You feel dizzy, totally disoriented, yet tingling, glowing and content.

He slowly withdraws from you, and rolls you on your side to face him. It seems as if his face is surrounded by an aura of light. He leans forward and plants the most tender kiss on your lips. He pulls back smiling.

"Right. Now that the foreplay is over …"

LitNet: 3 December 2004

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boontoe / to the top

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