[this is continuation from part 1]
As we talked, as we caught up, as I drank in Hope‘s pretty face, her shiny blonde hair, her big breasts, her generally muscular, hot build, I played out our recent conversations and exchanges. And I decided what I wanted. Or really, I decided to ask for what I already knew I wanted.
“Stand up,” I said.
She did as asked.
“Good girl. Now. Turn around, please.”
She did as asked.
“Take off your top, please.”
She did as asked, revealing (from behind) a front-opening, x-back maroon lacey bra that looked just a little small for her.
“Turn around, please.”
Hope granted me the view – a tremendous view – of her breasts, just barely contained.
“Lose your skirt,” I directed her.
And she did.
“Turn around again, please.”
Her panties were navy, I think. Maybe black. Maybe somewhere in between. In any event, they were super fancy, with a cutout that revealed not a little of the flesh on her ass that lay beneath the waist of the panties.
“Sit down,” I said. “Open your thighs.”
Hope – ever-compliant – did as asked.
We discussed her current masturbation habits (about once a week, to fantasies and memories). Her most recent masturbation – 3 or 4 days ago.
“Do you think you can come for me?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered. ” I think so.”
“Let’s see,” I said. “Please come for me.”
For fifteen minutes or so, I watched as Hope first teased her pussy through her panties (as I asked), and then, plunged her right hand down into them and, with just a finger, or actually, two,I think started rubbing her clit.
Hope’s orgasms take a while. They don’t (she doesn’t) come easy.
I stroked my cock for a while through my trousers. Then, I let it free, stroking it within her sight.
I praised her. Praised her technique. Praised her body. Described how hard my cock was. (Really. Fucking. Hard.)
Time passed. I imagined tying her ankles to the legs of the chair. Her arms, behind her. I asked her to simulate my imagined restraints.
I asked her to imagine my tongue on her clit (as I was imagining). I promised that, should she one day allow me that pleasure again, I would leap at the chance.
And, after some time, Hope’s thighs shook, her head fell back, she made a bit more noise, and she came.
Or so I imagined. But I also imagined she might not have come, that she might have faked it. This would surely be out of character, but I asked: did you come?
Yes, she said. Yes I did.
We chatted a bit. About our parents, our high school days. Like me, Hope went to public school until high school, to private school for high school. Though in a different (part of the) country.
I instructed Hope to dress. I asked if I might lick her fingers dry – a request to which she assented. I was reminded of her soft, subtle scent, taste.
We hugged good bye.
I very much hope I get to taste Hope again, and more, soon.