Skinny, tall, bathed in patchouly, she smiled as I approached. Little did I know she was wearing tiny, booty-bearing Calvin Klein panties under her boyish jeans. She wore them for me. She greeted me with a strong embrace. That dimpled smile gleamed with sexiness. Nervous as shit, I did not let on that I changed my outfit six times before I drove to her apartment.
She picked me up and twirled me around as she carried me into the door. Her apartment was clean and a candle flickered on a large glass coffee table. We got cozy on the couch and she went to turn on some music. Portishead. She seduced me with Portishead. The ambiance was sensational.
The hours flew by and the conversation flowed. My nerves never really calmed down, but I was careful to play it cool. I didn’t want her to know I’ve had a crush on her since high school. As the time went by, we crept closer to one another. I could not fathom that this girl actually might like me.
Then in one smooth, yet swift motion, our lips collided. The heat overtook me now and her mouth was beyond delectable. Evidently this beautiful girl felt it too, because her hands were making their way beneath my shirt. The scent of passion filled the air, and we joined together like one hot lava-filled volcano. I think she tried to trick me by buckling her belt to the side, but I must have showed up her game because I got them off with one hand, while my other hand was removing her bra, unveiling two incredibly perky, small pink breasts. We somehow made our way to the bedroom, where the rest of the clothes hit the floor.
I’ll never forget that she made a point to have the light on. This was a new side of confidence that I can’t remember experiencing before. This also allowed me to experience the sight of the most delicious body I’ve ever laid my eyes on. This girl was simply breathtaking. This is also where I discovered the teeny tiny panties, and the way the bottom of her cheeks hung out just a little. An image I can never forget.
We were wild. We were intense. I was still nervous, and convinced that I was all over the place. She felt fucking amazing, and tasted even better. We moved in a harmonious rhythm, like we had done this before. Like we had invented it. It was fucking-yes- but also so much more. Lovemaking? Maybe. But that would sound too much like a dyke fairytale. It was more like an event. And we bought the only front row tickets. A sold out performance. I swear fireworks went off when she came. And she returned the favor, sending a million of my nerve endings into orbit. Was she real?
The next morning I woke up in her bed. I looked around. She was not in the room. Oh my god. I’m in her bed. The girl I had dreamed about for years. And we just had incredible sex, then held each other all night long. I was tripping. Then came the flood of self doubt. I was instantly convinced this was a one night stand and the girl of my dreams didn’t really like me.
As I was starting to get dressed and prepare to drown in my sorrows somewhere else, she came into the room with a fresh cup of coffee- and placed a sweet, long kiss on my mouth. Again, that smile. Those dimples. She said she had an amazing night, she thanked me for staying over, and she asked when she could see me again. I couldn’t believe it.
Well believe it. That night was the first night I spent with my wife. The girl of my dreams. The girl who made me nervous and rocked my world. I write about this now because last week was the eight year anniversary of that magical night. I remember everything about it. She was adorable and sexy. She is even more adorable and sexy now. Still has the smile and the dimples. I love this woman more and more every day. Happy anniversary, Beautiful.