Valentine's Day
It was the one year anniversary of our first date. Last February we had matched on Bumble, I had messaged him about horror movies and our romance began. He nervously approached my front door where he gave my father his last name (yes, I still live with my parents even though I was twenty five) and took me to a movie I have no memory of because I was so nervous. My knee was jack hammering. This guy's pictures didn't do him justice. He was bearded (for my pleasure. His beard never looked sexier than when it was glistening with my pussy juices) and his chest was covered in hair. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen.
I ran around like a maniac getting ready. Tight, silk shirt that showed off my Double Ds. Tight black leggings. Even makeup. I never wear makeup ordinarily. I don't have anything against it. I just usually forget or have a tendency to poke myself in the eye. But tonight I had to admit the makeup was a nice touch. As we drove to the movie theater, he said "I would be staring at you, I swear. But you know I have to concentrate on not killing us," He can be romantic that way
He was a gentleman that first night. Not anymore. I loved it. I wanted to wear my favorite panties (the crotchless thong with a pink butterfly on the front) but they were in his car so I changed in the women's restroom while he got tickets and popcorn. I knew he liked the panties too for the primary reason of easy access. I liked them because they made me feel sexy and also like I wasn't wearing any underwear at all. I always wanted to go out without panties but I was a little worried because I tended to get wet (absolutely soaking) and I worried it would go through my leggings or stain my jeans.
We settled in the theater. There were only four other people in theater even though it was a good movie. One behind us, three in front of us. I was enjoying my popcorn.
"Did they put butter on it?" I asked anxiously. As far as I'm concerned, popcorn isn't popcorn without butter.