As instructed, I arrive at the cafe wearing a dress and high-heeled boots, and underneath a non-padded bra, lacy knickers and stockings. I am excited, but also nervous, about meeting you for the first time. We have been chatting online for a week or so and I have been insistent about our first meeting being in a public place and only for a chat, for safety reasons.
You leave me waiting outside for what is probably no longer than a minute, but feels like much longer as people walk past, leaving me wondering if any of them notice my visibly-hardening nipples or the blush spreading over my cheeks. Then you walk towards me and I am put slightly at ease by your friendly smile. You hold the door open for me as we step into the cafe and pick out a table in a fairly tucked-away corner. While you go up to order drinks, I wait self-consciously, keeping my arms carefully over my chest as I lean on the table, hoping that this will cover the sight of my nipples poking at the fabric of the lacy bra and thin dress.
When you return with our drinks, we make conversation about jobs, hobbies - all the normal things that people talk about on first dates. As you sense that I am feeling more relaxed and comfortable, you begin to turn the conversation slightly, referring to how much you have enjoyed our online chats. You comment about how pleased you are that you can see that I have followed your first instruction and wonder aloud about how you will check my compliance with the other part of the instruction. I only blush in response and you return the conversation to ordinary topics such as weekend plans.
During our online conversation, as well as giving me instructions about what to wear, we agreed upon non-verbal signals that would communicate that we felt comfortable and willing to move things towards a slightly more physical level (while remaining within the bounds of public decency!) As we continue to talk, I feel your hand lightly brush over my hand. I do not respond immediately, still feeling self-conscious and uncertain of quite how I came to be sitting in a cafe with an almost-stranger who wanted me to submit to him. We continue chatting and I gradually realise that I am feeling very comfortable with you and my intuition is suggesting that you are probably not an axe-murderer! Although logic tells me that you are still almost a stranger, I feel reassured by the fact that we are in a public place and I have told a friend that I am meeting you for a first date. I gently bite my bottom lip and run a hand through my hair, before glancing up at you and smiling shyly. You smile back and continue chatting as if nothing had changed.
A few minutes later, you lean towards me, telling me that it is about time you checked what I am wearing under my dress. I nod very slightly in consent. You place your hand gently on my thigh under the table. Watching me closely, you notice the sharp intake of breath, followed by a small smile. You stroke your hand up my leg, feeling the lacy top of the stockings and then the bump of the suspenders through my dress.
"Good girl," you whisper in my ear. My smile widens and my breathing remains shallow.
As we once again move into a comfortable chat, you decide that it is time to test my limits a little. You quietly give me your instructions: I am to go to the bathroom, remove my knickers and bring them to you. I smile my agreement and stand up, taking my handbag with me. I know that this also gives me an easy way to escape if the situation was becoming uncomfortable, but I already feel a desire to please you.
In the bathroom, I remove my knickers, noticing how damp they are and becoming increasingly aware of the wetness that has been growing between my legs. I shove my knickers into my handbag and return to our table. As I sit down, I reach into my handbag under the table and pass you the knickers, which you immediately put in your pocket. You briefly place my hand onto your crotch, allowing me to feel the effect that I am having on your cock. I glance around, but no one seems to be paying us much attention. From the outside, this still looks like a perfectly ordinary first date.
We finish our drinks and you suggest a short walk around the nearby park. I almost turn down your offer, self-conscious about my lack of knickers and worrying that I may already have a slight damp patch on the back of my dress, but somehow you already have some sort of hold over me and I want to obey. We walk slowly and talk about ordinary things for a while, interspersed with discussion about fetishes that we have chatted about online. I am worried about every slight breeze, fearing that the tops of my stockings will be revealed.
As we get close to where I have left my car, you take advantage of a quieter part of the park to pull me towards you and kiss me. Although your hold on me is gentle, giving me space to pull away if I choose to, your kiss is firm and insistent. My body and my mouth respond instinctively to your dominance, and your hold on me tightens as you feel me relaxing into you. Your hand slowly moves down my back, coming to rest on my arse. I feel the warmth of your hand, separated from the soft flesh only by the fabric of my dress. A small moan escapes from my lips as you pull me towards you and I feel your cock hardening against my body.
Carefully checking that nobody is paying too much attention, you pull my knickers from your pocket. You pull me towards you, now squeezing my arse more tightly, and look deep into my eyes as you sniff the still-damp knickers. I blush, but I am unable (or unwilling) to break the eye contact or the spell that you seem to have cast over me. You return the knickers to your pocket and, as you kiss me passionately, your hand glides briefly between my thighs, which are becoming slick from my juices.
You pull away slightly, both of your hands now gently resting on my waist. "I will completely understand and respect your decision if you say no," you say, "but would you like to come back to mine?"
Despite the lust that I feel, my logical instinct is to say, "Sorry, I don't play on a first meeting," but I already know enough about you to feel comfortable and to feel certain that I want to see you again. So what would be the point of delaying something that we both want? I remind myself that we are both consenting adults, smile at you and shyly nod my agreement.
As you escort me to my car, you tell me your address, kiss me once more and walk away to your car. I take a few moments to collect myself, grateful for another opportunity to make sure that this is what I really want, away from the heat of the lust that you seem to draw from me. Smiling to myself, I enter your address into my satnav and set off, filled once more with excitement and nervousness.
I arrive at your house a few minutes after you get home. I pause before getting out of the car, knowing that this is the last easy opportunity to back out of what I am about to let myself in for. I have very rarely had sex with a man on a first date, but this feels very right. Without thinking, I take off the bracelet that I had been wearing, and realise with a jolt of surprise that I am trying to make it easier for you to restrain me. I knock on your door and you immediately open it, greeting me with a warm hug and a gentle kiss. You take my hand and gently lead me into your living room.
You decide that I look comfortable enough for you to do away with the pleasantries of offering a drink and sitting chatting any more, for now. You leave me standing in the middle of the room and begin kissing me again, your tongue gradually exploring further into my mouth and your hands roaming over my body. I kiss you back and lean my body into your hands.
"Are you warm enough?" you ask. I nod and smile in reply. "Then I think it is time you removed that dress for me." I hesitate for a second, but then reach down and pull the dress over my head. I am now wearing only a lacy bra, stockings and suspenders and a pair of high-heeled boots. My knickers are still in your pocket. You smile and your eyes travel over my body.
"Very nice," you murmur. "Does it feel odd to be wearing a bra but no knickers?" you ask.
"Yes," I reply, giggling slightly.
"Then you'd better take off the bra," you reply. Obediently, I reach behind to unclasp my bra and let it fall from my breasts.
"Now, place both hands behind your head and keep them there." You maintain eye contact with me as your fingers begin drawing circles around my breasts.
"Your nipples are already very hard," you comment. "But I wonder if I can make them even harder..." As your circles decrease, I instinctively push out my chest, displaying my tits to you. You reach my nipples and hold each one between your finger and thumb, rolling them slightly before pinching them, gently at first and then harder. I gasp at the slight pain, which correlates directly to a tingling and growing wetness between my legs. You bend down slightly so that you can lick and suck one nipple, nipping gently with your teeth. My arms are growing tired and I move one arm down slightly, hoping that you are too distracted to notice.
