Our First Time… HIS Perspective, Part 2

I called her immediately.

“Are you wearing a skirt?” I asked.

“No, but I have one,” she said.

“I found us a place, and it’s not romantic, but it’s a place.” I said. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” I told her. “Change into your skirt before you get here.”

I proceeded to give her directions on how to get there, where to park, what entrance to come in and where to wait for me. I promised that I would be there, waiting for her at the appointed time.

“Oh,” I added before our conversation ended, “I want you commando when you get here.”

While my colleagues were in meetings, I took my leave and waited for her.

It wasn’t a long wait; she was there, right on time, as she promised.

I gave her a long hello kiss, she had a skirt on like I had asked and a cute top.

The place I had picked for us had one temporary drawback—the janitor was there. He had made his rounds of the facility on that floor and had made it to our place—the men’s bathroom.

While we waited in a doorway a short day away, my heart pounded. I was so close to fucking the hell out of W, and there we were, waiting for a stupid janitor.

I told her that we were waiting because of the janitor and she laughed.

After what seemed like an eternity, he moved on to the next restroom a good distance away. Unbeknownst to him, two people would be taking advantage of the restroom he had just cleaned.

I lead W by the hand around the corner to the restroom, looked at her, and said “Come on” as we were about to enter. She paused and looked at me, quizzically. She finally realized where we were going to do what we were going to do.

I knew what she was thinking, but wasn’t saying. It was, after all, a place for us to fuck. I looked her in the eye.

“I did tell you it wasn’t romantic,” I offered by way of a partial apology.

The pause stopped, we crossed the threshold.

We were inside. Soon I would be inside her, too.

I braced the door with a wooden door wedge—not enough to prevent it from being opened, but enough to slow someone down, make them think twice, give us some kind of warning.

Her pumps (and yes, they were pumps) clacked on the tile floor, and reverberated throughout the empty men’s bathroom.

A few steps later we were in the farthest stall from the door with the most room—handicapped accessible.

In no time, we were all over each other. I kissed her like I hadn’t kissed anyone in years—I was nervous, exhilarated and aroused, all at the same time.

I pushed her up against the wall and slid my hand to the bottom of her skirt. It lifted easily, revealing her beautifully smooth and powerful legs. A little bit more and her light blondish-brown thatch of hair appeared.

I quickly moved my hand in between her legs, testing to see how wet her pussy was. See, W gets wetter than anyone I’ve ever been with, and it’s one of many arousing things about her.

I swiped an index finger in her slit like I would a card in an ATM machine; she was wetter than hell.

I wanted in so bad. I wanted to fuck her, to make her scream. I knew I couldn’t make her scream—not here, anyway.

Call me greedy, but I wanted her even wetter—I wanted her juices to drench her legs, her thighs, her pussy lips. I was going to make her cum, a couple of times. I wanted her gash to gush before I entered her.

In the split second I had those thoughts after testing her wetness, I inserted my thumb into her pussy and began massaging her clit.

W is so responsive to my touch—it wasn’t long before she started to cum. To her credit, she started out quiet—as quiet as one can be when you’ve got your skirt hiked up and you’re being fingered to orgasm in a men’s restroom surrounded by a a series of business meetings.

When W cums in a public place, she can be quiet, but her breathing starts to get ragged, and she gasps for air, drinking it in as if it’s the best thing in the world. Her pussy flutters with contractions and her powerful legs start shaking and eventually clamp around what’s inside her.

“Cum,” I whispered in her ear, trying to get her to cum as hard as she could, “do it, cum hard.”

She started to breathe harder, and make a little more noise. I got a little worried.

“Shhhhh,” I whispered again in her ear.

She quieted down, and came in relative quiet. More kissing.

Momentarily sated, her attentions turned to me, and the fact that I was still completely clothed. She deftly unbuckled my belt, and my pants and what was left of any inhibitions I might have had quickly fell to the floor. My boxer briefs were quick to follow.

Her hand grabbed my dick, stroked it, massaged it, reminding me how much better it was when I didn’t do it myself. Before my pants fell, I had grabbed a condom from my pocket, tore the wrapper and put it on, clumsily and awkwardly.

It was time.

I positioned her against the wall; W is shorter than I am by a few inches, and there was nothing to stand on for her without her head sticking out above the stall. The awkwardness of the positioning, combined with a little nervousness on my part conspired to cause my dick to get a little less hard than it needed to be.

After what seemed like an eternity of trying, I realized this wasn’t going to happen just this second. My hand wandered down to that beautiful slit of hers and in no time again she was cumming, albeit even quieter than the last go-round.

After she opened her eyes, she pulled the condom off and pushed me into the corner of the stall. She quickly dropped to her knees.

I was already in heaven, anticipating what was coming.

In no time at all, the warm wetness of her mouth overtook me. I moaned as my dick made contact with her tongue and lips.

She was an expert, and I had a hard time staying quiet. To describe her oral technique would be nearly impossible for me; I just remember near the end I grabbed her head and started fucking her face. It felt so good.

By now, my nervousness had passed, and I didn’t want to cum in her mouth– I was ready to fuck her beautiful pussy the right way. I put another condom on, and told her to bend over. She complied, grabbing the handrails in the stall to brace herself. I entered her from behind–  her pussy was silky, tight and warm, and I was in it.

I began to fuck her, slowly at first, more quickly as time went on. Her arms braced her, her face was contorted with pleasure, and my thrusts pushed her head into the toilet paper rolls in the dispenser.

It wasn’t long before I felt the tingle that always starts in my feet.

“I’m gonna cum,” I told her, quietly, breathing hard.

“Cum,” she said, breathing hard also.

I started fucking her harder, faster and I felt like I exploded into her in no time.

A few moments later, we had kissed, rearranged our clothing and left the stall. We did what primping could be (and needed to be) done to make ourselves presentable to the outside world.

I went first, checking to see if the coast was clear. It was. A moment later, she was in the hall.

Sweaty, tired and smiling, we left the facility and stepped out onto the sidewalk, into the sunshine.

~ by bcwecan on August 24, 2009.

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