I anticipated this date in this post. And now, as I sat in the restaurant waiting for Serena, I received a text. And began to write.
The text: “First thing you need to know about me… I’m almost always late. This time by 10 min. I’m sorry.”
I don’t yet know if I’ll get to punish her for this.
What I do know is that we are about to share a delicious meal together, and that I will bask in her tiny, sexy, insanely hot, beauty.
That’s good enough.
But of course, I hope for more….
I want to kiss her. (Does she want to kiss me? I hope she does. I think she does. But I know she’s conflicted.)
I want to toss her on a bed. (Does she want to be tossed? I hope she does. I think she does.)
I want to watch her as she gives herself an brings herself to the edge of orgasm with the vibrator I bought her. (Does she want to show me? I hope she does. I think she does.)
I want to have her kneel for me, to look up at me, as I unbuckle my belt she unbuckles my belt. (Does she want this? I hope she does. I think she does.)
I want to collect a dozen orgasms from her tiny, lithe, taut body. (Does she want this? I hope she does. I think she does. Actually… I know she does.)
I want to feel the back of her throat with my cock. To taste her cunt. To feel it gripping my cock. (I won’t speculate any further. But I think I know.)
At this point in my writing of this post, Serena entered the restaurant. We made small talk for just a few moments, and then I shared this with her. The rest of the evening continues here, in this post.