Hime bares it all...

[Warbaby1943]

So until tomorrow, then.

[Hime]

So of course all of my friends insisted on me keeping my cell with me, as well as getting his name, phone number, physical description... one even asked me for his license plate number (how would I know that?)! Meanwhile, I was busy thinking about what to wear and whether he'd be interested in me once he saw me in person. The way he talked to me made me feel different from, well, everything else, except maybe performing onstage -- like I was someone special and interesting and worth spending time with. I was afraid that for him, the reality might not match up with the fantasy. Finally, I decided to wear a fitted v-neck red sweater, my favorite comfy jeans, doc martens and, as a last-minute addition, my dark-green leather dog collar, for good luck.

When I first saw him neither of us quite knew what to say. He was a little shorter than I'd expected, but very, very good looking. He has beautiful hazel eyes with long lashes, and classic Native American (he's part Cherokee) bone structure, high cheekbones and a strong nose -- think young Clint Eastwood. We ended up heading back to his motel room (despite what I'd promised everyone I *wouldn't* do) to exchange Valentines' presents. I'd tried to stick with neutral gifts (a sampler pack of gourmet coffees and a cute plushie of my school mascot) that wouldn't seem embarassing if we turned out to not have the chemistry in person. He, on the other hand, had found a beautiful red necklace for me that looked just like something I would have picked out if I'd had the luck to find it. It had a pretty antique-looking pendant and was just the right length (he later confessed that this was intentional) to dangle right between my breasts. You can barely see that I'm wearing it in my avatar.

I wanted to try it on, so I lifted my blonde hair to let him remove the dog collar and put on the necklace. The feeling of his hands at the nape of my neck was so intoxicating that it was difficult to stand still. We sat down together on the bed, and he asked if he could hold my hand. I said yes.
He asked if he could put his arms around me. I said yes.
Then he asked if he could kiss me. I wasn't sure if I should kiss on a first date. It had been a long time since I'd kissed anyone. But I couldn't bear to say no. As we kissed, he pulled me back onto the bed with him and his lips moved to from my mouth to my face, my throat, and my collarbones, and then to my breasts as he pulled down the neckline of my shirt. I felt very glad that I'd decided to wear a pink lacy bra that day, the only really pretty underwear I had.

We ended up making out for hours, and then for most of the weekend. On our first "real" date, the next day, we went to an art museum, where I wanted to show him some of my favorite paintings. Needless to say, it was difficult to concentrate on art. He would wait until we were alone in a room, and then hold me tight and move his hands over my body with incredible urgency while he kissed me, as though he desperately needed every part of me. At one point, while we cuddled on a bench in an otherwise empty room, he pointed out that there were probably security cameras watching us. He seemed pleased that that just made me want to put my arms around his shoulders and press myself against him even harder.

We had decided that we were not, no matter what, going to have sex the first weekend, and to my continuing amazement, we managed not to go farther than some below-the-belt petting. Without admitting it to each other, both of us ended up going home and, well, helping ourselves at the end of each day. What he didn't tell me until much later was that he'd fantasized about just tying me down and fucking me. What I didn't tell him is that I knew the whole time that I was just a little bit of pressure away from giving in to him completely.

Still, we both knew that we'd never wanted anyone in the same way before. Almost as soon as he arrived at home, we talked online again and decided that the next time we saw each other, we were going to go all the way.
So of course all of my friends insisted on me keeping my cell with me, as well as getting his name, phone number, physical description... one even asked me for his license plate number (how would I know that?)! Meanwhile, I was busy thinking about what to wear and whether he'd be interested in me once he saw me in person. The way he talked to me made me feel different from, well, everything else, except maybe performing onstage -- like I was someone special and interesting and worth spending time with. I was afraid that for him, the reality might not match up with the fantasy. Finally, I decided to wear a fitted v-neck red sweater, my favorite comfy jeans, doc martens and, as a last-minute addition, my dark-green leather dog collar, for good luck.

When I first saw him neither of us quite knew what to say. He was a little shorter than I'd expected, but very, very good looking. He has beautiful hazel eyes with long lashes, and classic Native American (he's part Cherokee) bone structure, high cheekbones and a strong nose -- think young Clint Eastwood. We ended up heading back to his motel room (despite what I'd promised everyone I *wouldn't* do) to exchange Valentines' presents. I'd tried to stick with neutral gifts (a sampler pack of gourmet coffees and a cute plushie of my school mascot) that wouldn't seem embarassing if we turned out to not have the chemistry in person. He, on the other hand, had found a beautiful red necklace for me that looked just like something I would have picked out if I'd had the luck to find it. It had a pretty antique-looking pendant and was just the right length (he later confessed that this was intentional) to dangle right between my breasts. You can barely see that I'm wearing it in my avatar.

I wanted to try it on, so I lifted my blonde hair to let him remove the dog collar and put on the necklace. The feeling of his hands at the nape of my neck was so intoxicating that it was difficult to stand still. We sat down together on the bed, and he asked if he could hold my hand. I said yes.
He asked if he could put his arms around me. I said yes.
Then he asked if he could kiss me. I wasn't sure if I should kiss on a first date. It had been a long time since I'd kissed anyone. But I couldn't bear to say no. As we kissed, he pulled me back onto the bed with him and his lips moved to from my mouth to my face, my throat, and my collarbones, and then to my breasts as he pulled down the neckline of my shirt. I felt very glad that I'd decided to wear a pink lacy bra that day, the only really pretty underwear I had.

We ended up making out for hours, and then for most of the weekend. On our first "real" date, the next day, we went to an art museum, where I wanted to show him some of my favorite paintings. Needless to say, it was difficult to concentrate on art. He would wait until we were alone in a room, and then hold me tight and move his hands over my body with incredible urgency while he kissed me, as though he desperately needed every part of me. At one point, while we cuddled on a bench in an otherwise empty room, he pointed out that there were probably security cameras watching us. He seemed pleased that that just made me want to put my arms around his shoulders and press myself against him even harder.

We had decided that we were not, no matter what, going to have sex the first weekend, and to my continuing amazement, we managed not to go farther than some below-the-belt petting. Without admitting it to each other, both of us ended up going home and, well, helping ourselves at the end of each day. What he didn't tell me until much later was that he'd fantasized about just tying me down and fucking me. What I didn't tell him is that I knew the whole time that I was just a little bit of pressure away from giving in to him completely.

Still, we both knew that we'd never wanted anyone in the same way before. Almost as soon as he arrived at home, we talked online again and decided that the next time we saw each other, we were going to go all the way.

[Hime]

A month went by, and we’d managed to find an excuse to see each other again – a conference at the school he taught at, which happened to have to do with my field of study. We spent some of the time at the conference, but most of it in the beautiful hotel room I was staying in (where he ended up staying with me). We were both on spring break, so we had plenty of time to explore one another and find out our specific preferences.

Now, I had always known that the fantasies I had were not ones that could be casually shared the way the girls in my dorm liked to talk about shirtless Josh Hartnett or the like. From the time I started thinking about sex, I could not stop myself from thinking about being kidnapped, tied up, and otherwise humiliated. There were times when I felt like this was wrong and tried to stop thinking about it, but that never worked for long. It hadn’t occurred to me that there was a name for that kind of feeling – sure I’d heard of “S&M,” but wasn’t that all about leather and high heels? I had no particular interest in leather and high heels, and had concluded that the fantasies I had tended to focus on the extreme as some way of compensating for the fact that they weren’t real. No, that doesn’t make any sense, but you try reconciling being a radical feminist and a submissive woman. It’s much easier to live in denial.

Anyway, as soon as our sex life started it was obvious that I liked it rough. The first time he spanked me (at my playful suggestion) I simply could not believe how good it felt. I liked being bitten, too. And teased verbally. And told what to do… and in general, things that required me to stop at the store and buy a tube of concealer for my neck and chest before going home to my parents… Suddenly things that had been mysterious for years made a lot more sense.

There was one moment that weekend, though, that stayed with me for a long time in my head. The morning before I had to leave, we were fooling around in bed. As he resolved a bit of banter by pinning me down by the shoulders, I told him “I’ll do anything for you. Tell me what you want me to do.”

He got quiet and looked out the window for a second. The shades were drawn and indigo-colored morning light was just starting to seep through. “I can’t do that,” he replied. “The one thing I want is something that wouldn’t be fair to ask of you.”

For a moment I was afraid to say anything, but I had to ask, “what?”

He looked back down and met my eyes. “I want you to stay.”

I breathed again, deeply relieved. But in the split-second before I’d found the nerve to ask, I’d recognized that I was experiencing something that was going to be important again someday, in a situation far more intense. I went back home that evening exhilarated, but with a sense that there were feelings between us that were a long way from being resolved.