Will You Be My Girlfriend?
Things have been mostly smooth-sailing for me. In fact, Jock and I just went on our sixth date and I’d quite like to talk about that if you don’t mind?
“I won’t have time to go home from work and change, but if you can handle me smelly and slightly exhausted, I’d like to pick you up, grab some food, and have an evening picnic?” he said in his text to me, and I gleefully accepted his proposition.
“You have options, though,” I told him. “I’m wearing the cutest dress with those cowboy boots you love. Do you want me to lose the pants, or keep the pants and pop a set of love eggs in?”
I was feeling brave, plus I wanted to introduce him to my playful side. Yes, we’re compatible (mostly) in a tent in the middle of a field somewhere, but are we compatible in other ways? I figured now would be a good time to find that out.
“Keep the pants on. Pop the love eggs in,” he replied.
At 6:30 pm on the dot, he was outside my house and I skipped out of my house with a blanket tucked under my arm. Well, I skipped as best as I could with a couple of love eggs inside me. I’m always worried those things are going to fall out, but thankfully, they didn’t.
He drove a while, to a local country park, and we walked and talked for as long as I could manage as my arousal grew more and more.
“Let’s sit here,” he suggested, once we found a grassy spot, and we sat and ate our sandwiches, talked some more, and occasionally ran away from some rather pesky geese who would not take no for an answer. Those buggers were going to get their beaks on our sandwiches if their lives depended on it.
It wasn’t long before the sun started to go down, and he made another suggestion:
“How about we find somewhere truly spectacular to watch the sunset?”
Picnics, sunsets, camping, and arcades …? These are some of my favourite things, it’s like he knows me so well already.
As we drove about, looking for a good place to watch the bright orange colours fill the sky, I felt it was the right time to bring those love eggs back into the equation. I lifted my cowboy boot-clad feet on the dashboard* and slipped off my underwear.
The country roads were open and deserted, so I encouraged him to give me a hand**. With the love eggs still inside me, our sticky fingers twisted together around my pussy, alternating between sliding inside me, right beside the toy, and tormenting my clit. It didn’t take long for the first waves of orgasm to start rolling in, something I made very clear. At the exact moment my orgasm started, he left my fingers to work alone, tugging at the cord of the balls inside me and yanking them out in one swift movement.
It was an incredible moment. A moment I’m sure I will remember for the rest of my life. I could sense his struggle trying to keep his attention on the road without even needing to look at him – and knowing that I was driving him crazy was just ramping up the heat for me. It was such an intense orgasm. Incredibly intense.
As we made our way back to my house, we chit-chatted away, and there was a moment where Jock called me his girlfriend.
“Did you actually call me your girlfriend?” I asked.
“No … but I’d like to,” he replied.
And I looked at him for a moment. As we pulled up at some traffic lights, he turned to look at me and I studied his gorgeous, ocean-blue eyes for a moment. Could I be this guy’s girlfriend?
“Are we boyfriend and girlfriend, then?” I asked.
“Yes.”
So … I guess I’m in a relationship now. We’re exclusively boyfriend and girlfriend. Is a sixth date too soon for that? I don’t know, but I don’t really care that much either. I wanted him more than I wanted a fistful of Milky Way Magic Stars, and now I fucking have him.
He’s my fucking boyfriend!
He text me after he’d got home after dropping me home, telling me that he was smitten. And I realised something: I am too. Proper smitten. Not just lusting after this guy, I think I’m FALLING for him. Falling very fast and very deep, yes, but falling nevertheless. The thought of waiting just 48 hours to see him again makes my heart sink. I don’t want to spend 48 hours away from him. I would quite like to spend 48 hours with him, though. Naked preferably, but I’d be happy with anything.
Six dates, people. I’ve gone and bagged myself a boyfriend, haven’t I?
*I know this is dangerous. I’ve been told this is dangerous.
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