u/Glittering-Run5628

My 730 am - 330 pm work schedule (strict no overtime policy) made it easy for me to get back to the city in time for our dinner date. Dressed in a sleek black turtle neck, textured fabric skirt, and black patterned tights, nothing I did could calm my nerves. I had never done anything like this before. 

I got to the tapas restaurant really early, found parking, and sat in my car with nothing but butterflies in my stomach. After just a couple more dates, I learned he was chronically tardy. His big dick made up for his lateness, though.

I was first to be seated at the restaurant, and he texted he was a few minutes late. Finally he arrived, and he looked exactly like his photos online - tall, dark haired, gorgeous, and well dressed. He even had excellent taste in shoes. Despite this, I had the sudden urge to flee the scene. What the fuck was I doing here? Instead of panicking, I stayed in my seat, still nervous as fuck. We got a glass of Cabernet and ordered food. I can be a decent conversationalist around people I'm comfortable with, but that day I was self conscious, probably trying way too hard to impress, and stumbling over my words. Right off the bat, he told me he was hard just sitting across from me at the table. At least he overlooked my awkwardness.

After a bottle of wine between us, we were both tipsy and ready to leave. This was more than a decade ago when LA nights were still chilly in the winter, and he walked me to my car. As we said goodnight, he asked if he could kiss me. Hell fucking yes he could kiss me. The height difference was a bit awkward (thank god I wore heeled boots); he had to stoop to kiss me, and I had to stand on my tiptoes.

He was such. A good. Fucking. Kisser. Soft lips, soft beard. He smelled divine. At the risk of being obscene in the street lamp light, we hopped in the back of my Nissan Pathfinder. We would eventually make a few sexy memories in the back of that car, this being the first. We continued our makeout session. He was a passionate kisser; we were so into each other. Months of emailing back and forth, getting to know each other, and *lots* of sexting before meeting in person will do that to you. I felt his cock over his pants. So thick. Huge. And impossibly hard.  Seated next to each other, he asked me to lower my nylon stockings. I promised myself I wouldn't fuck on the first date, but that was out the window. I was so fucking horny for him and all of the wine and the kissing (those lips and tongue!) had me unbelievably wet. This was no time to maintain standards.

I lowered my tights down to my ankles (no time to take off my boots - I had to be home at a certain time) and he went to caress my legs. I very stupidly decided not to shave my legs (why bother? We weren't gonna fuck on the first date!) and grabbed his hand to stop him; I didn't want him turned off by my hairy ass legs. I should have known better. He sees past so many superficial things, body hair included, and is attracted to me for me, not my hairy pits or legs. He teased me at the entrance of my pussy before delving his fingers deep inside me. We kept kissing. I got on top of him, his fingers working my soaked cunt, and I was moaning into his mouth. 

"Fuck me," I begged him. He told me he wanted to wait to fuck me properly. We were both pretty tipsy from the wine and he didn't want the effects of the alcohol to interfere. Damn! For a self-proclaimed goody two shoes, I was certainly ready to drop my panties for this smart, sexy, well-read man. We spent several minutes kissing and talking, but it was time for me to get home. I could still smell his cologne and beard conditioner on my clothes, in my hair. Fuck. I couldn't wait for him to properly fuck me on Saturday.

My 730 am - 330 pm work schedule (strict no overtime policy) made it easy for me to get back to the city in time for our dinner date. Dressed in a sleek black turtle neck, textured fabric skirt, and black patterned tights, nothing I did could calm my nerves. I had never done anything like this before. 

I got to the tapas restaurant really early, found parking, and sat in my car with nothing but butterflies in my stomach. After just a couple more dates, I learned he was chronically tardy. His big dick made up for his lateness, though.

I was first to be seated at the restaurant, and he texted he was a few minutes late. Finally he arrived, and he looked exactly like his photos online - tall, dark haired, gorgeous, and well dressed. He even had excellent taste in shoes. Despite this, I had the sudden urge to flee the scene. What the fuck was I doing here? Instead of panicking, I stayed in my seat, still nervous as fuck. We got a glass of Cabernet and ordered food. I can be a decent conversationalist around people I'm comfortable with, but that day I was self conscious, probably trying way too hard to impress, and stumbling over my words. Right off the bat, he told me he was hard just sitting across from me at the table. At least he overlooked my awkwardness.

After a bottle of wine between us, we were both tipsy and ready to leave. This was more than a decade ago when LA nights were still chilly in the winter, and he walked me to my car. As we said goodnight, he asked if he could kiss me. Hell fucking yes he could kiss me. The height difference was a bit awkward (thank god I wore heeled boots); he had to stoop to kiss me, and I had to stand on my tiptoes.

He was such. A good. Fucking. Kisser. Soft lips, soft beard. He smelled divine. At the risk of being obscene in the street lamp light, we hopped in the back of my Nissan Pathfinder. We would eventually make a few sexy memories in the back of that car, this being the first. We continued our makeout session. He was a passionate kisser; we were so into each other. Months of emailing back and forth, getting to know each other, and *lots* of sexy texting before meeting in person will do that to you. I felt his cock over his pants. So thick. Huge. And impossibly hard.  Seated next to each other, he asked me to lower my nylon stockings. I promised myself I wouldn't fuck on the first date, but that was out the window. I was so fucking horny for him and all of the wine and the kissing (those lips and tongue!) had me unbelievably wet. This was no time to maintain standards.

I lowered my tights down to my ankles (no time to take off my boots - I had to be home at a certain time) and he went to caress my legs. I very stupidly decided not to shave my legs (why bother? We weren't gonna fuck on the first date!) and grabbed his hand to stop him; I didn't want him turned off by my hairy ass legs. I should have known better. He sees past so many superficial things, body hair included, and is attracted to me for me, not my hairy pits or legs. He teased me at the entrance of my pussy before delving his fingers deep inside me. We kept kissing. I got on top of him, his fingers working my soaked cunt, and I was moaning into his mouth. 

"Fuck me," I begged him. He told me he wanted to wait to fuck me properly. We were both pretty tipsy from the wine and he didn't want the effects of the alcohol to interfere. Damn! For a self-proclaimed goody two shoes, I was certainly ready to drop my panties for this smart, sexy, well-read man. We spent several minutes kissing and talking, but it was time for me to get home. I could still smell his cologne and beard conditioner on my clothes, in my hair. Fuck. I couldn't wait for him to properly fuck me on Saturday.