We talked makeup and clothes, superficial bullshit. So I was taken back when she aggressively asked, “What's your preference?” “Generally men, but I sometimes make exceptions..” I replied skeptically, not quite sure who she was asking for. “Okay, cool, thanks… Was that rude to ask?” she followed up, smirking. Her eyes roaming my body. It started off slow, then fast. Looking me up and down rapidly progressed to “I want to fuck you” eyes. My best friend saying don't do it, my vagina saying “do!”.
She'd tell me how to do my hair, which was just her excuse to touch me. I didn't mind. Walking by, she'd run her fingers across my booty, or my side, or under my shirt and across my stomach. Giving me the chills and creating active thoughts of her pussy in my mouth. She thought she'd be my first, which is only partially true. More like, my first solo girl venture as an adult, one where I didn't have to share. It was exciting. Her cute little butt and nice lips calling my name. Making me a little wet every time she grabbed my boobs or hips, in public but secretly all the same.
I had already had a few drinks when she showed up at happy hour, crouched next to me under the umbrella as it rained. Our workplace attraction not even comparing to the post-work chemistry. So when she grabbed my face and kissed me in front of everyone, I knew it was a wrap. Her tongue twisting around mine in a way that built confidence she could eat a pussy right. Our kiss resonating through the bar, leaving everyone both speechless and turned on. It was time for us to go.
We head to my house, our intentions clear to everyone. Our friend, the unfortunately third wheel, sat awkwardly as we drunkenly tried to touch one another from our catty corner seats in the car. It was probably 3 minutes after entering the apartment when she made her move. Unbuttoning my pants, pulling them down aggressively. I let her undress me, her hand running down my stomach, her tongue caressing my clit.
I laid there for a moment, taking it in, waiting for my chance to return the favor. It became clear she was used to being dominant, trying to wiggle away when it came my time to undress her. Our foreplay turning into a battle, aggressively trying to eat me out while evading the removal of her pants. Our sex must've looked like that weird women's wrestling porn. The kind you find tucked into the random crevices of porn categories on YouPorn. Her pussy finally reaching my mouth, leaving my exciting tongue to explore. It was no time before her legs clamping my head and my legs clamped hers.
As we got dressed, she challenged, “Don't go catching feels.” “Yeah, you must not know, but I don't do feels,” I reply. She stops and looks up at me, both of us smirking. After she left that night all I could think about was her pussy eating skills. Well, that andddd the fact that I had probably found my hypothetical professional wrestling partner. Who says you can't kill two birds with one stone?