Lunch meetings

His blonde eyes rivaled my own in intensity and his dimples curved like commas around his bright, white smile. This boy was too pretty for me.

So how did I find myself sitting across the booth of a local brew pub, sipping my water with lemon while he finished a raspberry wheat? Potential.

Our meeting was unconventional but my desire to mar that pretty blonde hair with my wet, pussy-slick fingers was purely animal.

I had worn a dress, anticipating we'd meet at his place. He lives near by. But last minute change in plans forced us to improvise. He met my steady gaze with his own, only dropping his eyes a few times to glimpse my ample cleavage. I had dressed to impress, after all.

"You are so damn sexy. Want to get out of here?" I just nodded.

He paid his tab, placed a protective hand on the small of my back and led me to his car. He smelled fantastic -- cologne, soap and lust.

In his car, my skirt rode up around my thighs as we chatted about nothing, eyes looking for a secluded place to park. He stroked my knee, the top of my thigh. I grabbed his hand, spread my legs and invited him in further. He actually gasped out loud when his fingers brushed my nakedness. He slipped his finger into the wet slit, rubbing softly up and down as he drove.

"God, you're so wet already."

I positioned his finger a pinch higher, added pressure with my own fingers and rubbed until I came with a shudder. He pulled over.

He dragged me into the back seat, hands on my tits, ass, back, roaming, feeling, getting to know me. His fingers found me wetter still and curved up toward my favorite spot, bringing me to another shuddering climax.

"You cum so easy. That's so fucking hot!"

I thanked him with broad strokes from my tongue on his beautiful, shaved cock. Are pretty boys usually pretty every where? He had a flat, taut stomach. Tight ass. Strong arms. He was gorgeous. Much to pretty to smear with sweat and cum in the middle of the day. Or maybe not.

I straddled him, clenching my thighs as I rode him hard and fast. I sank into my orgasms with a moan, sometimes a little giggle. He buried his face in my tits, sucking, biting and pulling.

When he couldn't hold back any more, he flipped me over, shoved against the door, pushed my knees to my ears and found how deep he could go. I urged him to fuck me harder, deeper, please! He didn't make any noise when he came. That's something I'll have to change for next time. I like to hear my man groan.

He drove me back to my car. Kissed me goodbye and left to meet someone else for a lunch that would probably involve actual food.

Later that afternoon, he sent me an message: "When can I see you again?"

I smiled: "Soon."