A Polaroid of Kristine, Part 5 - Sex Stories

A Polaroid of Kristine, Part 5

... invited at a specific time. Just showing up seemed presumptuous, somehow. I fixed myself a small lunch of a couple of sandwiches, forgoing anything that would give me bad breath. I ate quickly and brushed my teeth carefully afterwards. My heartbeat seemed to echo in my chest as I rode the elevator up to the 26th floor. I paused in front of her door and finally rang her doorbell after bringing my hand to the buzzer several times. Her musical voice rang out from a distance, “Coming!” In no time, the door opened, and she stood in front of me, in a white sundress and flat sandals. Her smile instantly made my anxiety evaporate. “Michael! I’ve been waiting for you!” She was clearly genuinely happy to see me, and what’s more, she seemed eager. She continued, “Did you mean to torture me by making me wait all morning? I even considered calling you or coming to your apartment, but it seemed too risky.” She was being facetious, but it was also clear that she had been anticipating my arrival eagerly. I started to answer, “I didn’t know when you wanted me to--” She interrupted me, as she pulled me into her apartment and closed the door. Putting her arms around my neck, she stepped against me and kissed me deeply. And oh-so-eagerly. Her tongue found mine quickly, and soon we were both lost in the kiss, our hips starting to push against each other as my cock started to harden. She took a step back and looked at me closely. “It is strange. I very much know what you look like, but I forget ...

... a little bit just how handsome you are until you are with me.” I warmed inside at the compliment, so clearly sincere and genuine (even though I don’t think my insecurity truly believed in deep inside). She took another step back and looked me up and down. “Michael!” she said with a giggle. “Did you dress up for me?” My embarrassment returned briefly, and I felt my cheeks get hot. “I just didn’t want to look so casual, when you always look so… beautiful.” This was in some ways harder to say to her than some of the more explicit and sexual things that we had talked about before. Spots of color rose on her cheeks, and her expression got a bit more serious. “Thank you, Michael. I did not mean to tease you.” She paused for a moment, her hands on my shoulders, before continuing, “I very much appreciate that you dressed up for me. It makes me feel that you are not taking me for granted.” She was quiet for a moment before going on. “Your words mean a great deal. As for myself, I selected my wardrobe for ease of access and removal.” With that, she reached out for the obvious bulge that my erection was making in the front of my pants, and she took my penis in her hand, through the fabric. “And I have been thinking about this all morning, from the time I got home from my shopping trip.” She turned and, still holding on to my cock, pulled me towards “our” couch. She released me and took two steps back. “What is it you say in America?” she asked, mischievously. “I’ll show you mine if you ...