Away match

Our triangular relationship was not fully symmetrical. While Ricardo and me would sometimes meet on our own,  go on a date, I would dress up, he would say romantic things, that kind of stuff, Paul was always just our buddy, part of the inventory of the appartment, and always happy to help out with a hand or a cock. 

That evening, I had gone out for a meal with Ricardo, I wore a knee long flowery summer skirt and a slightly see-through low cut white blouse under my black cardigan. We got a table in a corner, where nobody could see us. I had insisted not to go to the cheap but good Indian around my corner. I felt very much like fumbling, and since that traumatic party where it all started, I was much more careful to maintain a minimum of discretion. I was in an excellent mood that day, because, to my delight and surprise, Stepan had contacted me, he wanted to meet up with me the next day. We sat down, and I took off my cardigan. I did not look up, but I could feel both Ricardo's and the waiter's eyes glued to the outline of my nipples through the transparent blouse. I did not wear a bra and the anticipation of the effect had aroused me sufficiently for my nipples to become erect and visibly stick out through the thin fabric. I looked up and ordered

"Can we have the menue, please, and some poppadoms already. Oh and a jug of water as well, please."

I stretched like a cat, leaned back and smiled mischieviously at Ricardo, who scanned with his eyes up and down my body, smiled very broadly and petted my knee under the table. I had my legs crossed and stretched out the one that was on top to briefly press the side of my sandal against his calv, with a conspirating look on my face. This would be a three-course foreplay. We kept giving us promising and longing looks across the table, touched our hands and arms openly over the table, or our knees and legs secretly underneath it. Ricardo could not take his eyes off my nipples that shone through the blouse and had to reach out a couple of times to touch them. He touched them twice through the blouse, but once he simply opened a couple of buttons of my blouse and shoved his hand in. Sligthly louder than intended I told him off

"Ricardo! You can't just take my tit out in the middle of a restaurant!"

The bloke at a table close to ours turned his head in a reflex, which gained him a punch against his chest and an evil hiss from his girlfriend. Ricardo and I giggled, I blushed and buttoned up my blouse again. We relaxed back and continued to eat. 

Coming back from the toilet, I thrived on the looks that I was given. A tall long-legged woman with a round butt, showing herself off in a flattering and shape revealing summer skirt, her naked breasts visible through the thin fabric of the transparent blouse. The entire staff, who were bored behind the counter of their not very busy restaurant, followed me with their eyes. I pretended not to register. Without a comment I handed Ricardo my handbag. He looked at me questioningly.

"Open it!"

I nodded at the bag. I crossed my legs, feeling my trimmed pubic hair touch my thighs where normally my knickers would sit. Following an impulse, I had taken them off in the toilet and stuffed them into my handbag that I had just handed to Ricardo. With puzzlement, he looked at the pair of worn knickers. Sometimes, he really is not the sharpest tool in the box. After a worryingly long period of time, he smiled and shook his head

"You dirty little fuck!"

and bent down to stick his hand under my skirt. I was too far away for him to check I really was naked down there, he only reached my lower thigh - which I did not regret, because I preferred him work his way there slowly. He leaned back. I slipped my foot out of the sandal and rested it on his lap under the table. He started caressing my calv, my knee and my foot. I stroked his cock with the ball of my foot. By the time we were given the bill, I had moved around the table, bit by bit, so he could secretly move his arm underneath my skirt all the way and finger my naked pussy. Sitting there, it wasn't too obvious that I had spread my legs in a not very ladylike fashion, even though people may have wondered about my flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. When we walked out, Ricardo was walking a step behind me, pushing me gently forward with his hand on my bum, gaining envious looks from the other men. 

Paul was watching TV when we entered the appartment, but we ignored him, we walked straight through into the bedroom and stripped each others clothes off in literally  no time. We fell onto the bed, wildly snogging, and even though I am normally more of a passive lover, I felt like taking action. Ricardo was lying on his back, I came up to my knees and moved one leg over him, so my pussy was right above his face, to prepare us for a 69. I immediately felt his tongue between my legs, and decided that, before I bent down to take my cock in his mouth, i wanted to enjoy sitting on the receiving end for a while. I started moving my hips over his face, in small circular movements at first that made his tongue slide around my clitoris, and then, as I moved my hips in more intense motion backwards and forwards, up and down my cleft. It was very nice. I spread my legs even wider and now bent forward to use my mouth on him. I started by moistening my hand and taking his shaft in my hand, stroking up and down and bent down to lick his balls while doing so, his tongue restlessly moving across my clitoris. Then I started licking up and down the shaft, as his tongue became more agile between my wide open legs. I moaned. I closed my mouth around his cock, and I kept moaning with pleasure about this virtuous tongue with my mouth full of his hard throbbing cock. I sucked. Then I came. 

I pulled him out of my mouth. I moved forward a couple of inches and even further down, with my butt right in front of his face and then slit forward, leaving a wet trace of his saliva and my juices on his chest, like a snail. Sliding the way down to his groin gave me the time to recover from my first orgasm. When I arrived there, I just plunged my pussy down on his cock. He groaned. I was looking down towards his feet and started riding him furiously. He clasped my hips and started moving his hips up to meet my rhythm. I rocked up and down, shoving his cock deep inside me. Soon, both of us were covered in sweat and enjoying ourselves thoroughly. I started clenching my pussy muscles rhythmically to squeeze his cock that drove in and out of me, which he welcomed with loud moans of pleasure. I kept riding him. We both came quite quickly, him crying out. When Paul entered Ricardo's room some time later to see if we're up to anything fun, he found both of us fast asleep. 

The next morning, however, Paul was part of it again. He had prepared us a good English fry-up with beans, saussages, tomatoes, egg and mushrooms. I had made the coffee (they never made it quite strong enough, seems to be an Anglo-American thing) and Ricardo had juiced oranges for all three of us. Now, fed and happy, Ricardo and me were sitting on the sofa, watching TV, Ricardo's arm around me with his hand on one of my breasts, squeezing it and pinching my nipple, as usual, while Paul was kneeling between my legs, giving me head. The boys were wearing shorts, I was naked. Paul is very good with his mouth. I love oral sex, both receiving and giving, but, normally, it would not be something that would get me off on its own. Yesterday's 69 had been psychologically lubricated by the whole restaurant excitement, but just plain head would normally be good for foreplay, or even indispensable, but not for climax. Paul, however, was an artist. He used his hand and his mouth together, spread my pussy with his fingers, stroked my belly as he licked me, inserted his fingers when necessary. Sometimes he licked light as a feather, sometimes hard and fast. He knew how to get me off, and he took pride in it. Maybe that explains why he was so offended when I jumped up from being pleasured when my phone signalled the arrival of a text message. I jumped, naked, over piles of clothes and duvets that were spread out on the floor and took the phone out of the pocket of my jacket. Stepan wanted to meet me at 5 in the park! 

The blokes could not share my excitement. Paul was pouting because I had not appreciated his oral efforts, and Ricardo was simply jealous. The three of us were officially non-committed, but up to now it had only been Ricardo who had been making use of this liberty - even though, with Paul you could never be too sure because he was not the kind of person who would share his adventures. He did not talk very much at all. Ricardo, in any way, had slept with another German girl that he had met when he visited his uncle in Hannover, and he had been dating an English girl, Emma, for a couple of weeks two months ago. He had kept our thing going during the time, but she did not know about it. This was one of the two reasons why I knew he was not serious about her. The other one was that he was quite obviously trying to make me jealous by telling me all the juicy details about Emma. Realising that, I had been deliberately non-possessive, to wind him up, taking her side and trying to persuade him to commit to her. He had eventually dropped her. Ricardo, in turn, had always been a little suspicious about who I spent my time with if I was not with them, and I could not help thinking that the reason why Paul and I never made love on our own was because both of us sensed that it could be hazardous to our arrangement. Ricardo was more than happy to share me with pretty much everyone if he was present, but he did not like the idea of me going out and enjoy on my own. Up to now, his worries had been in vain, I had not hidden anything from them, two youngsters and a full time job were quite enough for me. Stepan, however, was a different thing. I had to go home now, sleep for a couple of hours and then spend a couple of more hours picking the right outfit. 

The boys could not hide their schadenfreude, when I could not find my handbag. I must have forgotton it in the restaurant, the last time I remembered having it was when I had handed it to Ricardo so he would realise my knickers were not where they should be. I did not have money, I did not have my keys, my flatmates would not come home till eight that evening. We called the restaurant, but they were closed on sundays. I would have to go and meet Stepan straight from here. I did not even have underwear, not even used one, since my knickers were in the handbag, and I had not worn a bra. I had to take a shower, I smelled like cum and male sweat all over, but my hair straightener was at home, I would be looking like Jimi Hendrix. At least, Ricardo was using gender neutral shampoo, and I knew one of his ex girfriends had left body lotion and a decent perfume behind. The blokes were highly amused and kept entertaining each other with possible excuses I could make about my looks. I gave them a very evil look, went into Paul's room and set the alarm to 3, closed the door and tried to sleep. I thought about calling it off, but it seemed to late, and I had just texted him I would go. Well, it could have been worse - at least I had my telephone!

As soon as I met Stepan, I knew, it was a mistake. The boys had given me enough money, the skirt was still flattering, and it was overcast, so my cardigan could hide the fact that my blouse was transparent and that I was not wearing a bra, so I was actually in quite a decent state. However, the entire outfit was a little crinkled, I felt really uncomfortable about not wearing underwear, my hair was a mess, and I was not wearing make-up. He looked really taken back. Out of all the men in this world, why do I have to meet one of the few ones with social intelligence? Most men would have not even realised, or not have thought any further about it, but he could read the signs, he knew that this was a very unlikely way to show up to a date and that something was wrong. In an impulse, the first thing I worried about was how I would get out of this situation

"I'll have to be home by eight o'clock to open the door for my flatmate Heather, who forgot her keys!"

Wow, what an opening. He looked at me with piercing eyes. 'What do you want?' they asked, even though he said nothing. I felt horrible and small, I did everything wrong. Just say nothing, from time to time, Maria, just shut up!

We walked through the park, and he started talking about Italy, I talked about England. To my infinite relief, we found our connection again quickly, we walked through roses, inhaling their smell, and then through the greens on which people were practicing all these incredibly English sports, like cricket and something that was like petanque but with large rubber balls rather than small metal balls. They seemed to take it very seriously. Some plaid football as well. My hand found his naturally, he took it, and even though I still felt strange about not wearing underwear, I relaxed. 

Three hours passed like a blink of an eye. I did not want to go, but in a way I was quite glad I had manoeuvred myself in a situation where I had to leave. Things would have surely gone on from here, but it is a stupid matter of fact that it is profitable for the male state of mind if you make yourself a bit difficult. Stepan took my face in his hand and kissed me. I closed my eyes and parted my lips sligthly. They were very tender kisses at first, careful kisses, just with the lips, but, at one point, I could get a taste of his saliva. No onion this time, just that very nice taste of saliva that is not your own, a taste unlike any other taste. We kissed more passionately soon and I was leaning up against him, feeling the front of his body pressed up against mine, and he felt very good, his hands, his shoulders, everything. I do not believe in "he's-the-one-theory", but it felt very much like lock and key. 

"I am sorry, Heather is waiting for me at home! I have to go."

His hands stroke lovingly over my bum as we kiss good bye. And that's where he must have realised that a panty-line was absent. He stopped, and then, without any warning, shoved his hand down my skirt over my naked bum. 

"You're not wearing knickers!"

I looked at him apologetic. What must he think, i go on a date with him, not wearing underwear, and leave early on a lame excuse. He looked at me completely mystified and slightly suspiciously. Again, I cursed myself. Out of all the blokes I dated, why do I have to do a stupid cock-up like this with one of the few that have good instincts? Pretty much anybody else would not have realised it, and if they did, they would have been turned on, not thinking too hard about why I chose not to wear knickers and that it does not go with the logic of how the rest of the date went. 

I decided to go for defense by attack, and out came something very stupid. 

"Stepan, it is a really long story, and I cannot explain it to you at this very moment. It is stupid and involves me telling you things I do not think I want to tell you yet, but the one thing that matters is that I did not actually intend to date you not wearing knickers, I wanted to wear knickers, and the other thing that matters is that I am really serious about you and want to see you again, that the idea this could not go on from here patriifies me, and that I  will not hide things from you. You'll have to trust me, please."

I looked him in the eyes. They said

"What the fuck?!?!"

Seconds later, he seemed to have made up his mind, he gave in

"Call me on thursday, alright?"

I nodded. He pulled me towards him, to give me another good bye kiss, and as he did so, he did something that I did not expect. He pulled up my summer skirt and grabbed one of my now uncovered back cheeks such that the tips of his fingers disappeared between my legs and just about made contact with the hair and the wetness of my pussy. He looked me in the eyes, his fingertips still actually almost inside my pussy, I heard my own heart beat, I did not know what to say, I just stared at him. He kissed me on the forehead, let go of my naked bum and the skirt fell down over it again. I stared at him, then turned on the spot and walked off, not looking back, but I could feel his eyes follow me up to the next street corner. I felt competing emotions, relief, remorse, arousal, submission, amusement. Before I turned in, I looked back, just to confirm what I had sensed, he stood where I left him, he smiled and his eyes rested on my body. I went off, hoping Heather would be home to open the door for me. 