The restaurant Ben chooses is beautiful. It’s not huge and not overly expensive, but the food is excellent, and he has booked us a niche where we are very private.

Soft music drifts around us, and the staff are lovely; all smiles and courtesy as they bring the food and wine before they vanish discreetly while we eat.

A couple of hours comes and then goes, drifting by in a pleasant mix of chit-chat, good food, and better wine.

As we finish the coffee, Ben says, “Can I walk you home again?”

“Of course you can.”

We stroll through the dark streets, the summer air warm and fragrant. Ben slips his fingers into mine and we stroll along, holding hands.

On the doorstep, he hovers and then, without asking, embraces me. Unlike the first time on my doorstep, he does not hold back. His kiss is deep and passionate, one hand knotting into my hair. His pupils are wide, and through his chest, his heart hammers through to mine.

Oh my God. He’s in love with me….

This can’t be right. It’s too soon….

But pussy is calling. I want a man inside me.

He breaks away from the kiss, then simply stands, holding me close, his head resting over mine. “Kirstie….”

Should I do this? Is it fair to him?

Torn as to what is right, and what right now I want, I vacillate.

“Kirstie, can I come in?”

He wants me. He really wants me….

“Yes, you can come in.”

kiss

then, leading Ben by the hand,

comments. He is smiling, in a way that I have not seen him smile before, some of his grimness washed

should

I ask.

“Wine sounds good.”

he doesn’t sit, instead checking over my cd’s. “Mind if I put something on?” he

all. See what’s there that you like. White or

“Red, please.”

to the lounge just in time to hear

Interesting choice….

sips it politely, but his eyes don’t leave mine, and I feel that he is very much tasting the wine simply for the form of it. After

and his arms slide around

he is not holding back. His palms travel my body; the curve of my spine, along the nape of my neck and into my hair. His kiss is deep, demanding almost. He smells deeply masculine and tastes

but not quite, cupping.

say, sliding my hand over his and pressing

fingers squeeze into my breast and his

reservations over the wisdom of what I am doing, dissolve into a haze of lust as my core wells hot. I want this man now. I want him

slips his hand under my blouse, reaching inside and upwards, then stymied by the tightness of the garment, removes the hand again,

Asking permission?

my blouse. Bending close, he kisses the rounded tops of my breasts, then cupping

the air wafts across my skin, my nipples tighten and crinkle. He fastens his mouth around

and inwards to stroke my thighs, and I whimper as my pussy quivers. He reaches further, a

ceiling for a moment, breathing heavily,

“Jeez….” he mutters.

underneath to scoop me up, and glancing around the room, nods towards

“Bedroom?” he queries.

“Yes.” I smile.

And now, he smiles properly. It’s a big smile, lighting up his face and eyes, transforming his features, and it stays there as he strips off shirt, shoes and trousers. Seeing him clearly for the first time, he’s a

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