Finding David, part 2

So, you want to take this slow?

Miraculously, we escaped detection by David’s staff, but barely. Any number of things might have happened to tip them off, but he and I were alike in this – we had been meticulous in cleaning ourselves up and in fabricating some business-like banter to prevent suspicion. The only bit I couldn’t hide was my post-coital crimson cheeks. My face was on fire, and I would have been at a loss to explain the reason for that had anyone bothered to ask about it.

As we stepped out from the semi-dark confines of the office, a wash of bright sunshine cleared our heads, and we set out to our intended lunch destination, a fabulous Greek restaurant just a block down. David looked completely different in the full light, and not a bad different, just more business-like and with the confident face of a public figure. I did my best to emulate his appearance of propriety, but this meant avoiding eye contact with him. Gazing at his face would have sent me into a tailspin, or loudly saying inappropriate things, I could feel it.

We arrived at The Grecian Grill and were greeted by the proprietor, Nick, who was clearly a friend of David’s. Our cover seemed to be working well as Nick gave me only the slightest sizing up and then seated us in a quasi-private corner without anything more than the usual pleasantries. But once we were seated and facing each other at the table, David and I both fell back into our reverie, and it was smoking hot. Fuck the polite conversation. With no onlookers in the nearly empty restaurant, David snapped out of his public persona, returning to his lustful self. He suggested we sit on the same side of the table, after which he leaned in with a huge kiss, oblivious to the fact that anyone could have seen him do this. He then told me exactly how he imagined things going down, drawing me in with a lascivious smile and heavy-lidded eyes. “Not sure how we got here so quickly, but I intend to take this very slowly going forward – to stretch out this seduction for as long as possible. Don’t you think?” he said with a self-satisfied smile. Nothing came out of my mouth, for starters, because I just wanted to fuck him right there in the restaurant at that very moment, not after some long and torturous tango. He continued: “I’ve not done this for a long while, and intend to savor every minute of the build-up. How about we start with a hike next week at the dunes?” Next week?! I would be dead by then, but I muttered “sure.” Sure.

And David said all of this with the confidence of someone who was used to calling the shots – cock ”sure” he was that things would go as he envisioned. I was mentally volleying back a huge “fuck that” with the confidence of a woman whose long-repressed sex drive was now in high gear, something, I might add, that he had caused to happen. I knew exactly what I wanted, and I intended to get it. Hey Boomer dude – meet your match: GenX babe. Remember Xena? She always took what she wanted, and no one complained.

David encouraged Nick to choose a special lunch for us, and when the food arrived, I found myself sharing with David a platter of luscious Mediterranean dips, pickled things, bright veggies, and steaming hot falafels. Normally, I would have snarfed down half of this platter without hesitation, but this afternoon I found I had no appetite whatsoever. I nibbled on a falafel but could not bring myself to take a proper bite. Even drinking water seemed a challenge. I hoped David wouldn’t notice. I was so nervous (actually excited) and horribly distracted. Conversely, David enthusiastically put back his lunch; our near consummation had obviously triggered an opposite reaction in him – a renewed gusto for life and the hunger for sustenance that accompanied it.

The lunch date ended with a restrained public hug, and David reiterated the details for next week’s hiking date as he tucked his thick beard into my neck and nuzzled my ear. I felt deflated — how was I going to get through the week in my current state? Off I went to my car, and David to his office. Frustration settled in.

Needless to say, the sensations I felt only hours earlier in David’s office would not leave my body or mind. I was consumed in reliving the feel of his mouth and his soft hands, his nibbling on my breasts, the feel of his furry tummy, and his scratchy beard on my neck. I couldn’t write, I couldn’t think, and I only wanted to play one tune over and over — “Use Me,” by Bill Withers. My new theme song. So I set to cleaning my house, throwing all of that sexual angst into vacuuming, dusting, and organizing cabinets. I blasted the music, I cleaned, I danced, I repeatedly looked in the mirror to see what was happening to me, and every few minutes, I checked my phone for text messages. This flurry of meaningless activity was intended to distract me from my obsession, and in that it failed. At least the house was spotless.

Partway through the evening, “ping!” - a text message from David 🔥 (and my response)…

Within seconds, David responded with, “Never keep a good woman waiting. How about dinner tomorrow night at 7:00? Do you like Wicks Park Bar and Grill?” My response: “Sounds perfect. Can’t wait to see you. And now I’ll be able to sleep. 😂”

Saturday was a flurry. Excited, I woke up at the crack of dawn and put my beauty routine in order, went and swam laps, then headed over to the dress boutique on First St. to see if they had something sexy, preferably a black dress. Snagged a great dress, along with a cute pair of sandals and a pair of big silver hoops. Now, all I needed was some red lipstick and to get my toenails polished, then I’d be ready to go. By 6:00 p.m. I was beautiful, but stuck with an hour to kill. I needed a distraction, and a good one. So I flirted via text with my friend from Vienna. Thank god he was on another continent. Poor guy - it was the middle of the night over there.

Like friggin’ clockwork, my favorite public servant arrived at 7:00 (on the dot), ready to whisk me off to a dinner date. He pulled up in a perfectly detailed Porsche 911. And damn if he wasn’t dressed irresistibly in a plum suede jacket with an open-collared light blue dress shirt and gray trousers, white beard trimmed perfectly. And there I was, done up provocatively, hair in gentle curls, and dressed in a low-cut black dress. And yes, I have a really full cleavage, and I made no effort to hide it. And as would become usual around David, my cheeks (and neck and chest) were crimson — no blush needed. I was hot, both literally and figuratively. The only thing I could manage to say was, “Just shut up and kiss me. I can’t wait a minute longer.” And that he did.

David had cued up some great classical music for the drive to Wicks Park: Faure’s Pavane. I love the piece, but it foretold David’s continued insistence on taking things slowly with its long, drawn-out melody. Sensual, slow, languid. Yes, it was perfect, but I was losing my mind in anticipation.

After parking, David came around to open my door - so old-school, and I loved it. A man my age would never have made this gesture. Then he offered me his arm, and though that made me chuckle just a tad, I loved the feeling of his body against mine. As we headed toward the restaurant’s entrance, I noticed the engine on the Porsche was still running, the lights on, and the stereo was continuing to blast the Pavane. “Is this one of those cars that automatically turns itself off?” I queried. David laughed and said, “No.” Back he went to turn off the car. I could see this evening was going to go exactly as I hoped.

Dinner was delicious, but relatively uneventful, as we were surrounded by families and many of David’s constituents, all of whom recognized him. We had to be on our best behavior, however hard that might be. David did manage to slip in a few obscene gestures like picking the olives off the pizza, sticking them on his fingertips, then suggestively engulfing them with his mouth. Message received. Loud and clear. If this man thought we would be driving in the right lane on the way home, he was very much mistaken. We’d be taking the commuter lane and blowing past every other car on the highway. Which is exactly what happened.

We hadn’t actually made any post-dinner plans, and as we lingered in the car in front of my house, it became clear the first move was mine to make. David had mentioned more than once ours was to be a “female-centric” date — his term. And so, that’s what I made it. This female wanted him to come into her house and to stay for as long as it took to complete the business that had been left unfinished at his office. And so I bravely said as much, then flinched — really hoping I wasn’t ruining his idea to take things slowly. When I asked if he would like to come in for a while, he gave an enthusiastic “Sure,” accompanied by one of those killer smiles that was going to leave a wet spot on the back of my dress if I didn’t stand up immediately.

Leading this beautiful man up the path and into my house… damn. It was heady. The minute the front door closed behind us, his jacket came off and was thrown onto the loveseat, his shirt unbuttoned, and his shoes came off. And that’s where I paused to use the restroom, or so I implied. In reality, I went in to remove my tights, underwear, and bra, do a quick spritz with my favorite perfume, and to brush out my hair. Barefoot, I ventured back out to the living room, where David had made himself comfortable on the couch, his long, lean legs still in his trousers, stretched across the footstool. He extended his arm invitingly, encouraging me to take my place next to him on the couch, which I was obviously only too happy to do.

As I settled in, David lifted his head, then brought his mouth down on mine, as the weight of his body pushed me deep into the cushions. He leaned hard into me, as there was little room on the couch. One leg was slung across my pelvis, his hard-on and cushy balls pressing into my hip. I grabbed his ass with my left hand and pulled him in as tightly as I could. We kissed like this for a long while, then took a breather and sat upright. I was beginning to feel a tad dizzy and disoriented, but in the most wonderful way, as endorphins were surging through every part of my body. Where was I, exactly? Did I even care? David seemed equally disoriented by the intensity of our foreplay, and, like me, was clearly not ready to call it a night. We sat upright, and I suggested that perhaps we should go into the kitchen for some water.

After cooling off and regaining our composure, back to the living room we headed. I turned off all but one small lamp, then cued up a favorite melody from Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2 on my phone and set it to continuous repeat. I then proceeded with confidence to finish what I had started, beginning with the removal of David’s clothing.

David’s beautiful body revealed itself to me with each item shed - the exciting bit was finally getting his pants off and getting to see all that was below the beltline. And it did not disappoint. As he stood in the middle of my living room, with nothing but a pair of knit boxers, I kissed him, first on his thick, strong neck, then his broad, pronounced clavicles, lingering at his chest and stomach, enjoying his luscious scent as he helped me descend to my knees.

Finally, I kissed the bare skin just above the waistband of his underwear and ran my palms down the length of his long, lean legs, slipping my hands up into the bottom of his boxers. At first, I squeezed his firm buttocks and then slipped my hands under his warm and slightly sweaty balls, enjoying their weight and the sounds David made as I gently grazed them with my fingernails. While his eyes were closed, I took the opportunity to remove that last item of clothing, pressing my nose into his pubic hair to breathe in his amazing scent before leading him back to the couch.

In the corner of the couch, David reclined in all his glory—breathtakingly beautiful to behold. I slipped in next to him and whispered that I was still interested in hiking at the ranch, that it had been a good suggestion on his part. Then I proceeded to hike up my dress as he unbuttoned it from the top down. He was taken aback to discover I had nothing on underneath, neither a bra nor underwear. His fingers discovered quickly how very good he made me feel. I could not have been more wet and ready for him. David gently slipped two fingers into me while gingerly engulfing one nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. I lay back and enjoyed what I had not-so-patiently waited for - a mind-blowing orgasm, after which David smiled and looked into my eyes while slowly licking his fingers clean, one at a time.

Then it was his turn, and I was ready and motivated, for his orgasm and another of my own. I gently pushed David back into the corner of the couch and moved out of the way as he stretched his legs across the footstool, his balls and hard-on resting invitingly on top of his upper thighs. I had been waiting all day for this, to take him in my mouth, and I remembered what he had said repeatedly - that he wanted to take things slowly. So that I did. Slowly, gently, and relentlessly, until he could stand it no longer.