Page 3 of Size Game
She replies with a resounding yes, and I get even more excited. Then she does something that I am completely unprepared for. She sends me a picture of her chest, with her blouse unbuttoned so that the top of her bra is showing. She has amazing cleavage, and I find myself getting a little uncomfortable in my seat.
What do you think?
I honestly don’t even know how to respond. I want to tell her that they look amazing and I want to caress them, touch them, lick them. But, I imagine she gets that often, and I know I’m better than that. She did ask my thoughts though.
After a few minutes of staring at my phone, she messages again.
We’re still meeting Friday. Just tell me.
I want to caress your pearlescent skin and touch it softly with my lips.
So poetic. Tell me more.
Tell me what you will be wearing on Friday.
A tight top, low-cut. Maybe a miniskirt and some boots.
Bra? Panties?
No bra.
At this point I don’t know what to with myself. She seems to want me to talk dirty to her. I’m honestly out of practice with this. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She texts me again, asking me to describe what I want to do with her. It seems that she will want me to do naughty thing to her while at the club and not even wait until we find a more suitable location.
Come on. If we were at the club and I wasn’t wearing any underwear, just the top and skirt, what would you do with me?
Pull you close to me and hold you tight.
You can do better.
What would you do?
I’d hold you close and dance right up against you so I could slip my hand between us and rub you ’til you’re hard just so I could feel you against me.
She hasn’t even touched me and I feel flushed. I want to feel her hand upon me and her breasts against my chest. I bet just being near her would be amazing.
If you weren’t wearing anything underneath, I guess that would give me easy access to slipping my hand under your skirt to caress whatever I please. I don’t think I could stop myself from taking you off the dance floor.
Oh? Tell me more.
I’m sure we could find somewhere in the back where no one could find us. Somewhere that I could press you up against the wall, kiss your neck, touch your body, hear you moan.
Would you make me suck your dick?
Honestly, I don’t think I could make her do anything. That’s not right. Would I want her to do it? Sure. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything like that.
We text like this for a while longer, and I don’t know what to with myself. I’m sitting in my office with pants that fit well this morning but are now rather tight. I can’t just walk through the building pitching a tent like a Boy Scout, and I surely can’t do anything about it right here.
As luck would have it, there is always one thing that will destroy such a moment in an instant.
My phone rings and the screen says one word: Mom. The second I pick up the phone, my mind clears, and all thoughts of anything even remotely sexual are gone. It’s not uncommon for my mother to call, but this time it’s a bit more unexpected than usual.
She starts going on about something in her knitting club. It takes me a few minutes to get her on the actual reason why she called. She asks if she can come pick up Sadie Friday morning and keep her for the weekend. I tell her that this is perfect timing because I have a work thing to do over the weekend.
She seems excited and tells me that she’ll pick up Sadie from Imelda early on Friday. I tell her that works and that I’ll already be at work. After a few more minutes, I finally get her off the phone.
I apologize to Claire via text and tell her that my weekend just opened up. She tells me that we can start with one night. I laugh and tell her that it took me a second to realize how that sounded. I tell her I look forward to Friday, and she agrees.
It seems odd to find a woman so quickly that just wants a fling. I thought women wanted that whole “American Dream” thing. A home, a husband, and two and a half kids, or something like that. I suppose as long as she doesn’t want a relationship, I don’t have to worry about anything past Friday.