Liar Lyre's Journal

unfinished tail

So I met a nice girl at John's party. Helen: a couple of years younger than me, sysadmin and programmer, straight black hair, white T-shirt, short skirt and black tights, sparingly drinking vodka and orange, sword ear-rings, lived on the other side of town and tall but not *too* tall. Cute. We couldn't keep our eyes off each other the whole evening.

As people started leaving I was wondering whether to ask her for an email address, or more, but she took the initiative, and we shared a taxi and a snog back to hers.

In my stereotype of this kind of story, the amorous couple stumble through the door, barely in control of themselves, and are lucky if they make it to the bed before they start shagging. Not so in reality, at least tonight (though I reserve the right to completely lose control on some other occasion).

What actually happened was that we snuggled up on the sofa chatting and sipping excellent coffee. While she was making it I had a chance to look around. One bookshelf was full of books, packed two deep overflowing into the horizontal nonetheless; the other of CDs. Abstract, modern paintings stopped the walls from being empty; the glass coffee table was covered in envelopes, bills, magazines, a couple of books, a bowl of fruit.

So we talked about people we knew, mapping out mutual acquaintances and gossipping about them in more scurrilous detail than was possible at John's. It's not a surprise any more when people I've never met before turn out to know half my friends already; perhaps it happens to everyone eventually.

I was enjoying the conversation but impatient for things to move faster. I was enjoying the snuggling though; she was soft and cuddly and the skin of her arm felt nice. If she looked down, her hair brushed my face. I dared a leg; the conversation and coffee gave way to kissing, and we turned in to face each other so we could hold and kiss and stroke properly.

This didn't go on for very long until she stood and, with a very sweet smile, led me through to the bedroom. The double bed filled most of the room. We lay down facing and got on with the serious business of tongue and hand. I found my way under her skirt, which seemed to get a good reaction, and her hand got up under my shirt, using nails delightfully distractingly. Taking that as a cue I pulled her shirt free of her skirt and scratched up and down her back, which got an even better reaction still.

This went on for a little while. Stroking her breasts with my arm under her shirt proved a bit awkward so I encouraged her onto her back, kneeled astride and used both hands to good effect. She brought her hands up my legs and started to pull my shirt up; I leaned forward to make it easier, but ended up finishing removing it myself. I pulled her shirt off too, and she sat up a bit to make it easier. Back to the kissing for a bit, my arms round her and hers round me (she felt lovely) then slightly clumsily off with the bra.

I shifted back a bit for a better view as I touched her, occasionally leaning in for a kiss. At first she held on to me but soon leaned back on her arms and just enjoyed the attention, then lay back completely and threw her arms wide and closed her eyes. I shifted to one side and, folding her skirt up, stroked her through her tights, drawing forth first an appreciative "mmmm" then a somewhat less controlled "ohh!"

I went to remove her skirt but she pushed my hands away and did the job herself. I took the hint and finished my own undressing too (certainly easier that way). She watched, kneeling and smiling, then said "lie down" when I'd finished. She started to stroke my cock first with fingers and then soon her tongue, her hair tickling me as she leaned down. She looked up and grinned at me before taking me into her mouth, her tongue continuing to work its magic and mine taking its part in my incoherent gasps and occasional squeaks. I felt like I was going to come but she stopped and smiled at me again; "you're rather fun," she said. I couldn't grinning.

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