When on a date with an attractive woman for the first time, it is usually frowned upon to discuss how a guy would like to pull her hair while whispering into her ear about what he will do to her in order to please her and then actually doing said things…
Tradition, political correctness, and etiquette have their place.
When one finds a mind that is ripe and ready to be ripped open and enjoy the pleasures together, however…tradition, political correctness and etiquette are bull shit.
An attractive woman with wit and intelligence makes it hard for a guy…an erotic writer…a mind that wanders the gutters of the human condition…to bite one’s own tongue.
So wanting to bite her’s.
It all begins with sending her an email to make her smile. To get her thoughts flowing…to get her interested. Then the invite for a drink…somewhere quiet and private to get to know each other.
The evening starts with drinks to loosen up the inhibitions of flirting.
Flirting is all it will be, right? No pressing of flesh, no real suggestive innuendo, no knowing glances and wanton motions.
This is to be a respectful occasion. An occasion where her inner workings and intellect are to be introduced and explored…not the cleavage the eyes keep slipping to.
Realism kicks in with the amazement that between the cleavage, gorgeous eyes and those lips that any words she has conveyed were caught…but they were. Not only caught, but understood and even a contribution to a good conversation offered so as not too appear as a complete buffoon drooling and stumbling over words trying to keep up with the goddess as she speaks.
Those eyes are fascinating. Just imagine the stories they hold.
Those lips are luscious. Imagine them up against you…or better yet wrapped around something respectful people would not think of on a first date.
The cleavage…well, the cleavage should be avoided for fear of one becoming too wanton to see past the cleavage and bite the nipples that…
…WAIT!!! This was not supposed to happen.
Her clothes were not to be torn off and strewn about the floor as all inhibitions vanish in a mad passionate embrace that leaves both moaning. She was not to be penetrated by the hard desires currently knocking from inside the skull and screaming to get out like a Banshee wandering the forest looking for trees. Her legs were not to be spread and her flesh was not to be tasted by the slithering of the mind’s eye searching her being to bring her happiness and pleasure.
None of this should happen…at least until the second date.