Gentleman

“I’m a perfect gentleman” she said, and kissed my hand.

I had met her briefly before, and always thought she was extremely attractive. Now, here she was, talking to me as though she remembered me and liked me. I barely remember the first part of our conversation, and I’m fairly sure I had my mouth open for at least part of it.

She didn’t seem to notice my awe, and if she did, she was too much of a gentleman to mention it.

On this particular occasion, she was a woman, or as close to it as she ever got. Usually I did like my girls to be at least a little feminine, but there was something enchanting about her eyes that made the beard drawn so carefully on her face seem insignificant.

“What are you thinking about? I can see the expressions on your beautiful face, but they’re not connected to anything out here.”

I resisted the urge to tell her that all my expressions were because of her and the thrall she had me in. There is a vast gaping chasm between being smoothly complementary, and acting like a complete dork.

“I’m thinking how lovely it is to have someone be so attentive to me. I’ve become rather used to being taken for granted,” I said. Which was totally true. All the girls I’ve known in the past haven’t had much time for me. “If you keep being so lovely to me, you’ll spoil me.” Even as I stood making fairly innocent conversation, I wanted her to touch me in every way possible. I wondered if her gentlemanly leaning meant that she would wait a painfully long time to make a move. It would be painful. Just standing near her, feeling myself warm and soften under her gaze, was painful. Or perhaps, just perhaps, it meant that she was so aware of me that she knew what she was doing, and was waiting for the moment just before when I would break down and beg her to take me. I hoped that was it, that she was purposely pushing me to the edge.

“You can never spoil a lady” she said, and smiled using just one side of her mouth as she said it. “I know how to treat a lady,” she told me with utmost seriousness, “around me, you will feel respect, and never be taken for granted.” She lowered her voice, and looked at me with bedroom eyes “A lady always comes first”.

At this point I’m fairly sure I gasped or sighed. There was definitely some heaving going on, and she noticed this and laughed, her low voice tingling all the way down my spine.

“Good to know” I said, breathily. She laughed again.

“What about you?” I asked “What are you thinking?” I thought, please be thinking about taking me hard against a wall. I became stuck on that thought for a moment.

“I don’t know what you thought just then, but I definitely liked the way your face changed as you thought it” I realised now that she had moved closer, and as she said this, raised her arm to run the backs of her fingers down the side of my chin. I looked down slightly, noticed that her breasts, hidden under her vest and shirt, where mere centimetres away from mine. Considering that my own breasts did not stray far from my body, she was standing close indeed. In fact, a deep breath on my part, and we would come into bodily contact for the first time. I started to breath in without even thinking about it, when her fingers, which had come under my chin, jerked my head up to look her in the eye. She pinned me with her molten gaze.

“You’re not thinking of doing something naughty, are you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to” by now, I was taking short sharp breaths, trying to stay alert enough to truly appreciate her closeness. I wasn’t sure it would ever happen again. But then, it happened.

She stepped closer. Just one step, but it brought all her glorious softness that she tried to hard to hide into contact with my long lean body. Her hand travelled lower and around, so that she had her hand pressed flat to the small of my back, and pulled me tight against her, supporting me and leaning me back slightly.

“Would you like to know what I want?” her breath slid past my open mouth as she spoke.

“Yes, tell me. You can have it. Anything at all, just tell me.” It shocked me a little, bringing me back from the fog, when I realised how much I meant that. I was too disoriented by my own emotions and her body to be ashamed at the desperation in my voice.

She said something, that may have been “why don’t I just show you”, but she said it so quietly, and I was distracted because she was leaning herself forward, pushing my own body into a backwards bend, her face nearing mine and her head tilting slightly. Finally, when she had pushed me back so far that she was entirely supporting my weight with both of her arms, one around my waist, one behind my head, she filed that final gap, and pressed her soft, slightly moist lips against mine. Ecstasy followed, as the pressure of her breasts and her hips and her legs and her hands and best of all her lips, softly kneading mine, addled my brain so that I could only focus on controlling my mouth, all other sensations I simply had to allow.