He Waits #WickedWednesday

Sitting at the corner table, a red rose at her place, he thought of their last phone conversation.

“I can’t wait to see you!” she’d said excitedly.

“I can’t wait to see you, either,” he’d replied.

The conversation trailed off into awkward silence. Both were self-professed shy introverts who didn’t know how to make small talk. He knew better than to expect much from her until the conversation worked around to her passion – animals.

He never had much to add, but he always liked listening to her talk about her furry patients she saw each day as a veterinarian. He didn’t even mind that he never had the opportunity to talk about his day or his career. Staring at the door, waiting for her arrival, he told himself he would seize the opportunity tonight. He would guide the conversation.

They’d only communicated over the phone and through email so far. He smiled as he remembered the picture she’d sent him. Her full lips begged to be kissed. He wanted to bury his face into her neck and inhale her scent.

He knew he would have to move slowly. No need to come across as a total jackass by pawing at her on their first meeting. His mother had always told him that a real lady would never want such “brutish treatment.” Shaking his head, he knew his mother shouldn’t be on his mind tonight. Even though she always gave good advice, she was the last person he should think about while on a date with a beautiful woman.

He checked his watch again, his knee jiggling nervously. He’d arrived fifteen minutes early. She still had five minutes before the time they agreed upon.

He considered what he would do once they got passed their first meeting, when it was acceptable to “make a move” as he’d heard the guys call it. He knew he would kiss her, licking her lips, sucking on her tongue. He wanted to pull her hair until her head snapped back, to devour her mouth. The main character in his mother’s “stories” always seemed to do that, and the women loved it.

He would tell her he loved her succulent breasts. That was the word, right? Succulent? He’d read that talking “dirty” was a major turn-on for most women. He would suckle her nipples and squeeze her breasts. She would moan and whisper how much of a man he was. He was sure she’d beg him to “take her” – not sure where they would go, but he was happy to take her wherever.

He wouldn’t consider cunnilingus, though. He shuddered at the thought of his mouth on such a wet, dark place. The smell of sex filling his nose. Her mysterious taste covering his tongue. Mother always said only tramps allowed such a thing. He shifted in his seat as he felt an uncomfortable pressure in his groin.

His father, many years ago, hinted at something women do to men with their mouths. His dad said if he ever found a woman who would do that to keep her forever. A short time later, his father was gone. He never did understand why, though. Mother was a lovely woman who knew how to act like a lady. She always said that’s what he needed to find – a lady.

He stared at the door, not really seeing it, as he imagined what a woman might do with her mouth. His penis sprang to life, twitching in his pants. He blushed a deep red. He couldn’t believe such a thing was happening right now. He shifted in his seat again.

He thought about intercourse with her. Sweat beaded his forehead imagining her legs spread underneath him. Mother always said the proper way was lights out, but he thought that maybe a little light might be acceptable. He would want to see her face as he inserted himself. He had only had intercourse once, but he was sure she would enjoy it. He thought about how wonderful it would feel to sink into her depths, plunging in and out, until he ejaculated inside of her. He always slept better after an orgasm. He was sure she would sleep well, too.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he looked at his watch again – thirty minutes past the time they agreed to meet. He hoped she wasn’t sick or anything. He decided to stay a little longer, surely she would show up eventually.

This week’s prompt for Wicked Wednesday was “write about a man being stood up.” Well, I’m neither a man nor have I been stood up (because I don’t go out – EVER), but I wanted to write something a little different. I imagined a very awkward, sheltered man with no “skills” and what kind of thoughts he might have. It was fun to move away from the usual language I use in erotica and attempt to be more formal and a little uptight. I’ll let you be the judge of how convincing it was.