|Blogs > rm_Gaeb > I know what you did last night|
Was the First Woman called Eve? (2)
Was the First Woman called Eve? (2)
He didn’t eat before he went out that night. He got so busy chating away with his Eve that he burnt the little bit of food he was rustling up. He didn’t mind thou, for there was the distinct possibility of eating that forbidden fruit again. He picked her up at home, and they went for a casual drink at a nice little local restaurant she recommended, thou he’s never been there before. They sat outside, in the wind, and weather that seemed like rain, but they had to smoke, and these days you can rarely smoke inside. They both ordered wine ‒ a semi sweet white for her and a dry white for him. They talked. They flirted a bit. They talked some more.
“I can’t climb this tree and pick the fruit”, he thought to himself. “The Bible says there was a snake of some sort in the tree and you don’t like snakes, Quwan. Wait for the ripe fruit to fall down. Wait.”
More talking. More flirting. And all the while the waitress kept asking them if they’d like more wine.
“No goddammit!” he shouted in his head, even thou the thought of getting her drunk came up. He remembered a night when he was walking down the street, past a bar, where a woman was sleeping, passed out, in a car with the window open. He reached in and fondled her soft warm breasts, befor taking them out of her bra and sucking on them. He got scared shitless and ran when she moved.
“Shall we move inside?”
“Huh?” He didn’t hear her, lost in thought, trying to shift his dick to a more comfortable position without making his erection to noticeable. He wanted to fuck her, but he was waiting for the fruit to drop.
“It started raining. Let’s move inside.
Inside the mood changed. It was nice and warm and Italian, while outside, thou cold and windy, it was slighty more casual and Caribian, because of the beach across the street. They gave in to the waitress’s nagging and got more wine. Maybe it was to get slighty pissed, maybe because they wanted to get rid of the waitress and maybe, just maybe, they wanted the evening to last at least one glass of wine longer. He couldn’t stand it any longer and had to go to the restroom to sort out his dick, which was realy hurting him by now, his erection being to big for his jeans. He came back. They talked. They flirted, and yet, after all this time, they never touched. Not once. Not even the slightest brush of skin.
It was getting late and the shop owner wanted to close up for the nite, so he paid the bill and they left.
“I realy don’t want to go home now”, she said as they got up from the table. “Lets go somewhere.”
Right then he wanted to take her on the table in the restaurant, but they walked across the road and got in the car. It stopped raining, but the wind was still being the wind. Spoiling what could have been a nice fuck on the beach. He still instinctively steared the car towards the beach, even if it was just to take a look. He knew the beach would not work, and he had other plans made. They took a drive up the mountain and parked the car at his favourite lookout. The view over the bay was gorgeous, the orange lights moving, shimmering in the night.
They talked. They flirted. Less and less, becoming silent.
“Well, if we’re not going to talk, come over here and kiss me”, she said, pulling him closer. He complied. He leaned over her, and soon found the leaver to move the seat back into a more sensible position. Now that she was on her back, it would be easier to fuck her if it came down to it, but for now he was just softly and slowly kissing her face, neck, shoulders and breasts.
To be continued...
Bye for now and happy fucking...
11/14/2005 6:19 am
mmmm, soft kisses to start with are the best...|
11/17/2005 11:17 pm
not the best way baby - the only way unfortunatly to many people miss out on that.|
11/18/2005 2:02 am
well, u never do...!|