The first meet - part 1

Part 1

Typical, you think as you battle with your umbrella, the wind whipping down Thatcham high street. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a shop window and realise how silly the decision was to wear a short skirt in crappy October weather. The wind is whipping your hair around making you so glad that you spent ages on it, trying to get it looking just right for that first important meeting.

You ponder what he is like, this strange guy whom you met on the website. What if he is nothing like any of the pics he sent you? What if they were all just cobbled together from porn sites? What if it?s your ex? You shudder at the thought, banishing the horrific potential of sitting down opposite your ex, him leering at your well groomed, with a touch of accessible slut outfit.

You stop to gather yourself and check your watch. Costas is only just round the corner, still five minutes early, but better look my best, just incase he has arrived early too. What if I don?t recognise him? You think of the images that he sent, of the hot stories he wrote, penned just for you. You remember reading them at work, sat in the break room, how wet it made you, bringing that familiar ache between your legs, how it felt as it surged to your inner thighs, intensifying with each word you read. What it was like, sat there with your coffee and a half eaten sandwich, squirming in your seat, subconsciously waiting for your colleagues to leave. When they didn?t, how your hand fell into your lap as your cheeks flushed with each tantalising paragraph, your fingers daring a touch as you casually slipped the hand between your legs. The fire that exploded at the slightest caress from your fingertips through your panties.

I can?t believe I did that, at work?my colleagues were just there. Sat at the table with me. Let alone running to the toilet afterwards?oh my god, I sent him a picture of my wet pussy?from the toilets. What was I thinking?

You shake the memories away, aware that the same ache and moistness is returning. Perhaps not wearing knickers today was a mistake!

You pull your mid length coat together, not buttoned, just tight around your blouse. It plunges low, you hope low enough to reveal your ample cleavage, but not too thin to show how hard your nipples are at the thought of meeting this guy, of doing what you have thought about for weeks, fantasised about. You can see how hard they are, but hopefully he will put it down to the terrible weather.

Costs is not that busy, it is a Wednesday afternoon after all. People are dotted about at various tables; pensioners nursing cups of tea, a table of mum?s with their kids in pushchairs, and the odd guy sat around in a suit. Not your usual reprobates that you often find in here at a weekend.

You walk over to the counter and look down at the cakes. A guy behind the counter approaches you and asks if you fancy anything. You mind must be locked in dirty heaven as you think he is hitting on you. Instinctively you pull your coat tight again.

As you stare at this young guy, you suddenly realise this is all a big mistake. It?s just sex, you can get this any time you want, you don?t have to succumb to the clich? of finding it on the internet. You realise you haven?t responded to the guy, and the weird feeling of?guilt is it? Whatever it is, it stops you speaking, you shake your head and turn to leave.

?Well, your pictures don?t do you nearly enough justice,? says the guy standing right in front of you. ?Well, the ones of your face, obviously,? he says leaning in close to your ear.

As he moves back, you smell a musty, but slightly sweet smell. Is it Boss? You focus on his face, it?s him. Thank God! He did send you real pics. He?s not too bad, and you can see he is slightly flushed, possibly embarrassed by his opening line? You like that, not overly cocky, but funny.

You give a little chuckle and lean in, tilting your head back to kiss him on the cheek.

"Glad you could make it,? you say, ?thought I was going to have sticky buns all by myself.?

It?s your turn to blush as you realise what you said, how it sounds.

?Oh, I didn?t??
?That would be a crime,? he says, laughing.

He has a lovely smile. You laugh with him and suggest you grab some drinks.

Whilst you stand there, waiting for your drinks, there is an awkward silence. Both of you secretly checking each other out, getting caught, then smiling, but saying nothing. After what seems like a week, the drinks arrive and he takes them and suggests finding a seat.

You decide on a table near the back, not far from the toilets. You slide into the seat in the corner and he takes the one next to you. As you forwards to take a sip from your drink, you can feel the pressure causes your pussy lips to slide against each other, just slightly, but it sends shock waves through your hips. You realise how wet you are.