Wild Child claims to be house-hunting again the following weekend. I say ‘claims’ because she tells me about everything else in her life in detail, no matter how frivolous or trivial, but never says a word about her home viewings on the weekends. I’m suspicious and it doesn’t sit well with my trust issues that I realize I have inherited from my previous relationships. However, I’m not overly concerned because I’m not sensing a serious relationship with her. I just want to fuck her and feel the weight of her breasts in my hands. Is that too much to ask? Whaaat?! No marks for honesty?!
It’s Friday evening straight after work and I meet Wild Child at my town’s train station. We go to a Chinese takeaway to get some msg-rich food. Then it’s time for my apartment test: where I get to see if a woman is put off by my home and if she is, I then take it that she’s after a man with money. I think Wild Child is because when she phoned me the previous night, it was her idea to visit me. I got the distinct impression that she wanted to see my home. I don’t care what she thinks of my place, but I do want to see if her behaviour towards me changes afterwards.
As we enter my lounge I make an effort to face her so that I can see her reaction. Her face falls; she’s unimpressed. I thought this would happen. Her opinion of me has now taken a turn for the worse. That’s fine, now I know. It just confirms that she’s not right for me. The One would not be phased by my current home.
“It’s kind of basic,” is what she can’t help but blurt out.
“I call it Spartan or minimalist myself,” I retort.
I realize that this might even be the last time we see each other. If she’s a gold-digger then she’s ready to run away. I had better see how far I can progress with my seduction.
We have dinner at my dining table from IKEA, eating with cutlery from there too. (The plates are very expensive though.) As usual she has a lot to say for herself. I try to interject but she talks over me. I don’t think that she means to interrupt people, but she does seem to randomly remember things and get really excited about them.
Afterwards we end up sitting on my sofa watching the first episodes of Californication. Wild Child has never even heard of it and instantly loves it. Mercifully it also causes her to shut up, something I wasn’t counting on. From my previous experiences I’ve learned that by the end of the second episode a woman is slightly turned on. I think it’s the whole sexual overtone of the series that, after an hour, leads to a woman feeling slightly frisky. That’s when it’s time for me to make my move.
I lean over to Wild Child and we start kissing, carrying on from where we had left off on Saturday night. I let this go on for a while because I’m learning that most women enjoy kissing; it’s foreplay to them. It gets them wet if you do it properly. Once turned on enough then I can lead them into temptation and I’ll take all the credit or blame for whatever happens. I think that women want to be seduced, to be ravished, taken advantage of, but they don’t want to initiate it. They want the man to lead so that they can preserve a sense of modesty after having done very immodest things with him.
To this end then I take Wild Child’s hand and place it on my crotch so that she can feel my now raging boner. She lets off one of her little girlish giggles, keeps kissing me and grips my cock a little harder through my work trousers. Her giving it little tugs only makes me hornier. She makes approving sounds as she lets her tongue run wild in my mouth. She certainly likes to use her tongue. If that’s her thing, if that’s what turns her on, I’ll gladly let her indulge herself.
After a minute or so (could be less, it feels like an eternity) I unzip my trousers and pull my cock out. Wild Child stops kissing me, grips it in her hand and takes a good long look at it. She doesn’t say a word and resumes giving a little, gentle tugjob. She didn’t seem uncomfortable or unperturbed at all. This is nothing unusual to her. French kissing is her first love and she resumes doing this. I was kind of hoping, neigh, expecting that she’d make like Krazy Girl and go down on my cock. No, she wants to assault my mouth with her tongue, like Baltic Babe used to.
Okay, I’ll see you your mouth-raping and raise you a bit of fondling. The moment I had been looking forward to had arrived. I put a hand on her waist and start slowly rubbing up and down, just for her to get used to my touch. I slide my hand towards me, crossing her stomach and then back up again. This makes her inhale, making her breasts more prominent. Excellent.
I slide a hand up and over one of her breasts and she giggles. She’s used to this, but I guess all big-breasted girls are. We men are predictable creatures; most of us like boobies and the bigger, the better. Sorry small-boobed ladies, it’s the truth, but please don’t go off getting implants because no man likes the feel of those. Take solace in the fact that in later life your mammaries will still be where they always were and not around your stomach. Also, you won’t have men dating you simply because they want to play with your funbags.
Wild Child’s breast is large and my hand doesn’t fully cup it. Impressive, but surely she suffers from back pain, or do I still have hearing all about that to look forward to? I wonder what size over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder she wears, so I ask.
“What cup size are you?”
“I’m a g-cup,” she replies with a knowing smile.
“G?! Jeezus, now those I have to see,” I say losing control and trying to lift up her top.
She swats my hand away playfully while keeping her other hand firmly on my cock. I’m not so easily dissuaded, so I slide my hand under her top and cup her breast in the bra. She giggles and I feel her boob wobble in my hand. It’s a wonderful sensation. I’m not stopping there though and I quickly slip my hand under her bra, lifting the cups above her boobs, but I can’t see anything because her top’s still in the way. I take the nearest exposed breast into my hand and it feels glorious. It is easily the biggest tit my hand has ever felt. Such a shame I can’t see them yet.
“Right, that’s all you’re getting mister,” Wild Child says, expertly pushing my hand down from her chest with her one hand and letting go of my cock with the other at the same time.
I lie next to her, not having given up hope of going all the way with her, just taking a breather, waiting for her to catch up. I notice her looking at my cock.
“Would you like to say hello to him?” I ask.
To be continued…