Part 1 | Part 2
‘Omg! Jo? You really turned up!’
‘Of course. This place is hard to find though.’
‘Hang on, let me open up again.’
The stranger I knew online finally showed up, and true to her words, the tint of bronze on her toned, dark Indian skin made her one of the prettiest, if not, exotic lady I’ve met from another ethnic group. With her tall, slim, model-like figure, no one would believe she was a student who just completed her A levels. It was then I realised how much danger I was putting myself in, with the number of suitors I dare not imagined she would have.
I made us a cup of iced latte each, and went to the far end where she picked to sit – on the floor. Strangely, the same thoughts to sit on the ground ran through my mind but was deemed inappropriate to treat a friend. Comfortably settled next to each other, we spoke about my work in the cafe under the starless sky (as seen through the glass ceiling), engaging in a conversation that had no shortage of laughter and sneering remarks.
As our topic drifted to our past relationships, ‘sex’ came up and it turned into a friendly-heated debate about the rights and wrongs of some fetishes. She was extremely casual in that flare, chiffon skirt and tank top, bearing no regards if she was exposing too much of her legs in my presence.
‘So you have never touched an Indian girl?’
‘No? My exes were all Chinese.’
‘Want to try?’
‘What the fuck? You’re just testing me.’
‘What if I’m not?’
The wink she gave made me questioned her intentions, but at the same time doubt her decision. What if she wasn’t testing me at all, and that was as far as she dared to ‘hint’ without sounding desperate? Wouldn’t I be letting myself down with an obvious cue?
I slanted my body to reach between her legs with my further hand to test ‘water’, and saw the lingering grin on her face maintained its menace. The moment my fingertip touched her panties, she gently held my arm and led me further down, to presumingly where her clit was.
‘I think it would be easier for you if you faced the wall. I can do something for you too.’
The second wink she gave when she said that was the last straw I needed, but I knew she was dead serious about that suggestion. Turning around on my butt to face the wall (with her diagonally across), my fingers were still moving freely on that panties that was getting wetter, while she undone my belt and zipper with one hand.
In that ‘Pyramid Game’ position, our arms went between each other’s raised knees, rubbing and jerking to our hearts’ content. I had never forgotten that she was still a virgin, and that was as close to a ‘one-night-stand’ she’d ever get with me.
Her fingers gliding along my shaft kept themselves at a comfortable tightness, making me groan at a calm and relaxed pace. Though I couldn’t hear much of her voice in that shy mood, her quick breathing was all I needed to know that I wasn’t doing too bad myself. All I was allowed to do was to brush her panties aside, to stroke her clit directly. The rightfully pitched moans finally escape her mouth after running my fingers long enough across that slippery slit, setting the mood right for my worried mind that I wasn’t pleasing her enough.
That honed up girl went all out to make sure I came before I tried too hard to give her an orgasm, like a competition that she must win or die trying. True enough, her determination paid off after jerking me so fast that I lost the momentum rubbing her clit, and had to cum after two minutes.
Her fingers closed themselves around the tip at the last ‘moment’, collecting all my cum in her clenched fist until some seeped through her fingers. In that frenzied, confused hurry to contain my load, we made our way to the toilet to wash up, and for her to remove her soaked panties for more comfort.
We spent the rest of the time in the cafe straightening our clothes, while teasing each other about how well we ‘performed’ earlier. At eleven, we locked that place up and made our way home in different direction, summing up our one hour of non-penetrative fun.
I guess this would be what she’d call a ‘one-hour-stand’, which it totally was.
Part 1 | Part 2