Blind Date

“What would you like to do tonight?” Paul asked me.

It was New Year’s Eve and it was a blind date, and he wanted to fuck me and I wanted to fuck him. But we couldn’t say that, right? Not within five minutes of meeting.

I thought maybe that would be too direct, although we both felt it for sure. Like an electric shock or some weird chemical reaction. He was supposed to be my roommate’s blind date, and my date was this guy I sort of knew from junior year Botany.

But we took one look at each other and he said –

“Hey, I think we need to do this blind date thing a little different. Me and you, okay?”

And that’s how it was.

My roommate might never forgive me. Botany guy seemed more than a little surprised.

And Paul - dark curly hair, big green eyes, impossibly thick lashes for a guy – now he was asking me what I wanted to do.

“We should split it up, you two do your thing, and we’ll go our own way,” he said, dismissing my friend and her now-date with a wave of his hand. “Have fun.”

“You owe me,” my roommate said.

Then, to my surprise, without putting up a fight, they left us standing on the edge of Boston Common, shivering.

Paul had my hand firmly in his. It was freezing cold in Boston and we were both wearing gloves but I could feel the heat of his fingers against my palm and I wanted to feel that heat against my bare skin.

“So, what do you want to do?” he asked again. “That city celebration thing your roommate’s brother told me about on the phone?”

They were going to be shooting fireworks off over the harbor that night.

But maybe, not to be too big a cliché or anything, we could set off our own. Somewhere warmer than in the park that ran along Boston Harbor.

“Let’s just get something to eat?” I said.

We went to this place out in Concord on the edge of a frozen lake. It was a long drive and it was just some place he found on Yelp, but where could you go in the city without a reservation on New Year’s Eve? The lights were too bright and we drank too much red wine, but both were okay.

And then his leg touched my leg under the table. His hand brushed my arm, touched the edge of my breast, and we both knew it wasn't an accident, even though he said "Sorry."

I said "Don't worry about it," and then I had my hand wrapped around his neck, and I was pulling him close. We were kissing, all tongue and lips and it lasted forever. He stroked my back trhough my sweater; I put my hand on his thigh.

We had some kind of chowder and eggplant parm, and ice cream and pie, and we still didn’t leave. We just kept eating and then kissing. So I ordered a second desert and we shared it. Paul’s hand fell on my knee. I moved his hand up, under my skirt, up, up, up to the top of my thigh. Through my wintery black tights, I knew my pussy was already wet.

“Oh, I knew you were right for me,” he said.

And we didn’t order any more food. He leaned in close and kissed me again, and his hand moved right onto my pussy,and rubbed me there, he pressed one finger up into the tights and my panties and moved that finger in as deep as he could go with all of those clothes on, and I came. He knew it, felt me shiver, saw my face, saw my eyes widen.

Then we were in his car, about to drive to his apartment because mine would have my – probably angry – roommate in it, and with the heater blasting and the windows steaming up we were deep into a third kiss and he was slipping his hand under my jacket and sweater and unhooking my bra, and my hand found his cock, stroked it through his jeans, until I thought he was going to burst through them.

It was snowing lightly when we reached his place and we were stomping our feet all cold and impatient waiting for the elevator up to his apartment, and our hands were both cold when we touched and he said “I have to warm you up” and I said “It won’t take much.”

Finally, the elevator came and we were kissing inside it, snowflakes still clinging to our hair, and I thought this was the best New Year’s Eve and the best blind date ever.

Inside his place it was cold too, and he turned on the wall heater, and offered to make me tea, but I didn’t want tea, I wanted to stay a little drunk from the too-much-red-wine and just finally –

“Look, let’s fuck,” he said.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I replied. He literally picked me up and carried me -- it was so cool to be carried – into his bedroom, still in my down jacket and my boots.

He sat me down on the edge of his bed and finally a blast of warm air came out of the old radiators, and he helped me shake off my boots.

He kicked off his shoes and we just fell across the bed. He lifted my sweater and unsnapped my bra and kissed and licked my breasts.

He pulled up my skirt and stroked me over my stockings; and then with the stockings half peeled down; and then with my panties pushed to the side and his fingers inside me. And then with my panties off, stockings off, he was licking my clit with his tongue until I shot out and I felt that fireworks feelings I’d been wanting.

Then with my sweater and skirt and unhooked bra all loose and jumbled I got up on my knees and I unzipped his pants and I took him in my mouth and made him cum.

The heat in us and from the wall heaters was intense now, we were sweating, we could’ve been some place tropical, not some place that was -10 outside.

He pulled off my dress, I tugged off his pants, and we fell back together with me on top first, then him, both of us rolling around like we were just playing at something.

I finally shook off my bra and he threw off his shirt, and then he stuck his cock inside me and it wasn’t really playing then, I stretched my legs up toward the ceiling and then dropped them down and gripped him around the waist and we made the bed thump and thump against the wall.

And we both cried out at the same time, like how impossible is that? We both came, bam, just like that.

And then we heard cheering and shouts and someone banging a pot, and at first, we thought it was for us – or at least I did, and he said he did too but he was just laughing, so maybe it was only me.

But it was a brand new year, that’s what the cheering was all about.

And there I was with my blind date, lying back on the pillows, and every time he touched me I tingled. I felt his cock brush my thighs, he was already hard again.

This time he took me from behind, my tits brushing against the pillows.

We took a hot shower, and he soaped my tits and my butt hole and held the shower head so that it sprayed just right inside me and I came again, just from that.

Then he pressed me up against the cool shower tiles, they were cool even though the water was hot; and he fucked me again with my legs wrapped around him, us slipping just a little on the tiles, and that was great, too.

The snow stopped by morning. It was a beautiful, radiant day, sunshine streaming in, the snow dazzling and pristine and perfect and it seemed like we were the only people awake.

We made coffee and looked out at the snow piled up on his porch, and then his cock brushed up against my butt, hugely ready. And we went back to bed and I sucked him until he was within seconds of coming, and then he rolled over on top of me and just took me, and it was so delicious I just lay there afterwards, unable or unwilling to move from the wet spot in the bed.

He sucked each of my nipples, rubbing them with the palm of his hand, and even though it was only a few minutes later – or it could’ve been an hour, it was like that with Paul, every minute this delirious stretching out of time – he slipped inside me again so slick and easy.

At some point we had breakfast, and by then it was already late, and he said it was breakfast for dinner, and it really was, the sun was a fading orange orb over the snow.

I had to work the next day and so he drove me home, holding my hand, which was really sweet.

“So, it’s a new year,” he said, when we got to my place.

“That was a good start,” I said.

“That was a good blind date.”

“If I close my eyes, we can do it all again,” I said. “You get it, right? Blind date?”

We both laughed like that was really funny but it wasn’t. He wanted to fuck me and I wanted to fuck him, and we could probably just say that now, right?

There was a moment and we were silent.

“So. What would you like to do tonight?” he asked.