Last night I went out with a British man that I met on a social networking site. He was handsome enough, reminding me of Michael Caine crossed with Dudley Moore. We met up for drinks at a local restaurant, sharing a plate of fries that I dunked in mayo. "You have a little strut," he noted as I sashayed back from the restroom. Fortified with five drinks, I suggested that we go to the corner bar, and he agreed, so we tottered off into the cold.
After a few more drinks, he was leaning over to sniff my neck, nuzzling at it. I could feel my pussy moisten - it's one of my major turn-ons. I'd already admitted to him that I had masturbated before our date and that I wasn't wearing any knickers; I suppose the natural progression was for him to find out. I had on a slinky black dress and kept crossing my legs. "It's like a scene out of 'Basic Instinct,'" he observed, scooting closer to me. I took his hand and slid it underneath the hem of my dress. We were seated in the corner of the bar so no one took notice of the man with his finger inside my wet cunt.
Ever the polite gentleman, he escorted me home and I invited him up. He asked to use the bathroom. While he was in there, I did what seemed like the most normal thing to do: I pulled my dress up off over my head, doffed it into a pile and stood there, naked in my heels.
"My god, you have an amazing body," he said, shock registering on his handsome face when he came back out. "Is this how you greet everyone?"
"Just you."
I sucked his cock, he came on my tits, and he gallantly kissed me goodnight when he left.
