Meeting Annie (Part 2)
Annie closes the door firmly behind us, turns the deadbolt and pulls the chain across. It’s dark - only a touch of light reaches us from a single lamp that I had left on in the bedroom down the hall. The quiet in the apartment is almost shocking after the noise outside; the cars passing by, the clomping of our feet against the sidewalk, had all seemed so quiet, but now, behind the closed door, no longer moving, all I can hear is our hurried breath against the silence.
I lean back into the wall, looking down at my feet, hands behind me, feeling shyer than I can ever recall being before. It seems like an eternity before Annie finally turns to me, slowly, moving into place in front of me.
She ducks her head down a little to catch my eye, and puts her hand on my chin, tilting my face up towards her.
“Still sure, Megs?”
I can’t make my mouth work, so I just nod. Over and over again, like a bobble head toy on the dash of a car.
Finally, I whisper, “Yes, I’m sure. For sure.”
She smiles a little, and looks into my eyes, like she’s double-checking to be certain one more time. The fact that she’s taking her time with me, making sure that I am definite about wanting this, has me twice as aroused as I was before. She keeps just looking at me - her eyes roam over my face, down to my neck, and suddenly, I feel so impatient. I want to beg her to do something - anything - to me.
What comes out is a croaky whispered “Please.”
She leans in, and kisses my forehead. The tip of my nose. Briefest kiss on my lips. One side of my jaw. Near my ear. To my neck. Down to my clavicle. Peppering kisses across my chest.
I moan, and feel my body push into her.
“Please,” I manage again.
Her hand comes up slowly, cups one breast, the faintest hint of a squeeze, like she’s testing the weight and feel of it in her hands. I feel her exhale, hot and damp, against my skin, and it makes me shiver.
“Jesus, Megs, you feel so good,” she says. “I want you so badly. I want… Fuck… I want this to be so good for you.”
“It already is,” I say, and arch my back. Pushing my breast deeper into her hand, a small moan escapes my mouth.
And that’s the thing that snaps Annie’s restraint at last: my approval. My body pushing into her, my moan of pleasure – a Molotov cocktail catching fire, fuelled by her years of imagining this moment.
She lifts her mouth to mine and kisses me deep, hard, and her hands come up on either side of my face as her tongue slips into mine.
I feel new and foolish, like a teenager at my first dance unsure of what to do. But it only takes a few seconds to catch the rhythm of her kiss, to match her tempo, to surrender my mouth to her tongue’s dance. I feel her breathe against my lips, panting now, desperate.
Intuitively, my hips push forward towards her and wordlessly, without breaking the kiss at all, she pushes her knee forward and up, sliding it between my thighs, pushing the skirt of my dress up with it until the top of her knee is against the juncture of my thighs. Her knee is bare thanks to the shorts she’s wearing, and when the warmth of her skin pushes against my panties, my body jolts.
“Oh god,” I moan out, breaking the kiss. “Oh god, Annie… Oh god.”
“Fuck, you’re so wet already. I can feel how wet you are,” she replies. She keeps pushing her knee up against me, and I let my weight shift to gain more pressure and traction against her leg.
She pulls open the buttons on the front of my dress, revealing my simple bra underneath. Her hand slips inside the dress, squeezing my breast again.
“Annie… I need… “ I don’t know what I need, but I keep saying this, over and over, while rubbing myself against her. “I need… I need…”
She pulls her leg back suddenly, and for a moment, I’m alarmed – what’s wrong, what did I do? But she takes my hand and pulls me behind her down the hall, heading to my bedroom. When we get there, she turns me so I’m backing up against the bed, and I sit down on the edge.
“Annie?” I look up at her, unsure of what to do.
She puts her hands on either side of my face, stroking my hair and cheeks.
“Megs, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” she says. She leans over, kisses my forehead. “You smell so good. You smell perfect. Delicious. Amazing.”
As she’s talking, she’s pushing me back gently until the challenge of holding myself up hits the tipping point, and I let myself fall backwards on the bed. I push back, scooting backwards across the bed to give her room, and she takes the cue, crawling up over me.
She kisses me again, and again, moving from my lips to my neck, to my eyes, and back to my lips over and over. She moves down slightly, her body over mine, and kisses along my shoulders to my chest. She pauses a moment, unbuttoning the rest of the buttons all the way down, opening it completely. Her mouth closes over one nipple, through my bra, sucks, and I almost scream from the feeling of it all. She stops, tucks a finger into the top edge of the bra, and pulls it down to expose my breast. She slowly licks all around my nipple, closing her warm mouth over it. I moan instantly.
It feels so good, I instinctively squeeze my eyes shut to focus as much as I can on it. She continues on for another minute, slowly licking and sucking. Suddenly, I feel her mouth open wide, sucking as much of my breast into her mouth as she can. My hips start to buck, pushing up against her, and I feel her hand move down between my legs.
Oh my god, it hadn’t occurred to me she’d do this. I’d only imagined simple things, kissing and touching, in the very brief fantasy that had entered my brain as I walked away from the bar. Logically, of course, this shouldn’t be a surprise, but somehow it is, and now the idea that her hand is going to be on my pussy is overwhelming. Hands, and what else? Tongue? Mouth? The very notion has my lower body aching, and I can feel myself squirming, moving, pushing my hips up to meet her hand.
She lifts her head from my breast then, her lips wet and pink, and she watches my face as her hand presses between my legs.
“You like it, don’t you,” she says, her voice deeper, slower.
“Yes,” I say, nodding, hypnotized.
I start to close my eyes, but she stops me. “No, keep your eyes open, Megs, I want to watch you.”
Kneeling on the bed, she moves to my side. Her legs are pressed up against me, her eyes pinned on mine, and her hand moving slow and lazy between my legs. I can feel the soft pressure her fingers moving flat over my panties, and I nudge my hips up into her. She leans over a little, looking away from my face to gaze down where she’s rubbing me. Her hand lifts off me, and I feel her finger tips take hold of the edge of my panties, and moving them to the side, expose my pussy.
I hear her sharp intake of breath, her quiet “fuck, fuck, fuck” as she looks at me. I know I’m wet, and puffy from arousal. It seems to me I must be wetter than I ever have been. I am delirious on my arousal - drunk and dizzy and overwhelmed.
“Annie,” I say, and she looks back to my face. “Please.”
I realize I’ve said these words to her over and over, like I’m incapable of anything more.
“Please… Please, touch me… Please…” I manage to say.
She needs no second request. Her fingers trail along my pussy, gently, slowly, softly, slipping between wet lips, opening me. I gasp, and my breathing grows faster, panting.
I feel her finger slipping deeper, looking for the spot to enter me, and when she finds it, her finger slips all the way, easily. The slick dragging feel is explosively good and my shoulders lift up off the bed.
“Fuck! Oh god, oh god, oh god!”
She starts a slow rhythm, letting her finger slide in and out, and after a moment, she leans over me, her mouth so close to my pussy that I can feel the heat of her breath on me.
She pulls her finger out, and I lift up on my elbows to look down at her – she puts her finger in her mouth, tasting me for the first time, and sucks it in and out a few times.
She looks up at me.
“Megs…” and then she drops her head down onto my pussy, mouth open, tongue flicking, slipping between my pussy lips to find my clitoris, slow and wet all over me. Without stopping, she moves her body over mine, in between my legs, kneeling there over me. I let myself come down off my elbows and lay my head back. She licks and sucks, her mouth opening wide over me, playing with my pussy. When she lifts her lips off to take a deeper breath, I instinctively put my hands down on her head and lift my hips back up.
She groans, a deep low growl in her throat, and my hands grip her head tighter, pushing her down. She starts licking at me again, furiously now, desperate, fast, needing, and I feel a finger at my edge again – no, not a finger but two fingers – and she pushes them hard into me, until she’s as deep as she can go, her knuckles up against my lips. She keeps thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, the wet sound of her fingers fucking into me like a rhythm that she matches with her tongue on my clit.
“I’m going to cum, I’m going to –“ and just like that, suddenly, without warning, I cum hard. My thighs close around her head, my hips buck up again and again and again against her face.
After what seems like minutes, I finally lay back, my legs open, my breath hitched.
She moves up alongside me, and kisses me gently with her pussy-flavoured lips.
“So next time I suggest you wear the dress without the panties, will you?”
I laugh, shyly.
She lays back down next to me.
“Good,” she says, grinning.
I let one of my hands move over to her body, slipping between her legs and touching gently. Her eyebrows pop up and she looks over at me.
“Is it okay if I…”
I let the question trail off, nervous and uncertain again.
“Megs, anything you want to do is so fucking okay it’s not even funny.”
“I’ve never…” I say, letting my hand push a little harder against her, watching her eyes flutter over the feeling of it.
“You’re doing just fine so far,” she says.
“In that case,” I say, “maybe you should… take these off… so I can… you know.”
“My pleasure,” she says.