I saw her sitting at the end of the bar, chatting with her friends. Tall, auburn, not skinny, not overweight, dressed like you’d expect somebody coming from an office job on a Friday. She had on a nice fitting pair of jeans, white top, you could just see the outline of a pretty lace bra. Boobs were small, but attractive. She was animated, laughing, having fun. It was what caught my eye. It’s funny; women often think they need to be super gorgeous, or made up, and dressed to the nines to attract a guy. Not me. I like to watch how a person acts, either with friends or when they’re alone. You can almost tell a life story by how someone, especially women, acts when they’re alone in a normally social setting (bar, party, etc.). I couldn’t see her face though, and that made me wonder what she looked like, how did she smile.

This time, it was me alone. I was supposed to meet some old coworkers for a Friday happy hour, but they all cancelled at the last minute. So, I grabbed my barstool, trying to find a spot in front of a decent TV, hoping to catch some of the tournament.

“Can I get you something?”

“Sure, how about a Captain and Diet, lime, and a menu?”

“Just a minute.”

I went to grab my phone as I felt it vibrate, and clumsily flipped it out of my pocket. As I went to reach for it, kind of flailing, hoping to catch it before it reached the floor, I bumped into the “girl at the end of the bar” as she was walking by.

“Oh my," I stammered, awkwardly, "I’m sorry, excuse me.”

“No worries.”

“Mike?”

I started laughing, “Krista, how ARE you?”

The awkwardness immediately fell away as I realized who this was. We had worked together some years prior at the same mechanical contracting firm, just around the corner. Nothing had ever happened between us, but we were always friendly, if not flirty.

“I’m good. Here with some work folks. You?”

“Fantastic. I was supposed to meet some people here, but they cancelled. I figured what the hell.”

“Well, come join us, truth is, most of them will probably leave soon, and I’m ready for Friday. It’ll be good to catch up.”

“Cool, I’ll wait for you to get back and you can introduce me.”

I grabbed my drink and spun around as I watched her walk (trying to be discreet) away.

After just a few minutes she was back, tapping me on the shoulder.

“Hey…you missed me, didn’t you?” she laughed.

Yes, the flirt was still there. Maybe, since we weren’t working together, this might turn into a nice night.

“I did, five minutes is an eternity in bar time.”

She laughed.

I followed her to the end of the bar with her friends, but as we approached it looked like they were mostly packing up, putting on coats, grabbing purses, paying tabs.

“You guys leaving?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’ve done enough damage for one happy hour.”

“Well, dang, and I was going to introduce Mike. He’s an old coworker from Beacon Mechanical. I’ve told you the stories,” she said with a wry smile and tapped my shoulder with her flattened hand.

What was that, I wondered. Trying to find the clues.

“Oh, yes, Mike. Krista, it looks like your night might just be beginning.”

I sensed there was more to this story, but let it go, figuring it may be more fun to find out for myself.

Everybody did their handshakes and polite hugs, saying it was “nice to meet me, finally,” adding to the mystery. I couldn’t wait for them to leave to find out what this was about.

“What was all that about, finally?”

“What?”

“When your friend said it was nice to meet me, ‘finally’. What did that mean?”

She blushed and paused, a long pause, trying to find words, obviously.

“I…always…liked…you, Mike. I always thought you were a cool dude. I was attracted to you. When you left Beacon, I didn’t think we’d ever talk again. I know we kept in Facebook touch for a bit, but that faded as it would. Once that happened, I told the story about this guy I really liked but felt like he was unattainable. Not into me, whatever.”

Now it was my turn to pause.

“Wow, I had no idea. I mean, I know we had fun at work, and a few drinks at lunch and all. I was clueless. I thought it was just coworker fun. How did I miss this?”

She shrugged and smirked, “No idea, dipshit,” and shoved me back into the barstool.

We both laughed.

“Let’s get out of here, now that the awkward is over. I have a bottle of that at home,” she pointed at my empty glass, “and a recliner with our name on it.”

Krista’s apartment was nice - two bedrooms, living room as soon as you walk in, kitchen in the middle, in an L-shape, big screen on the wall opposite the front door, a sofa along one wall and two large cushy recliners against the other wall, straddling a tall table with a lamp and some books.

“Want a refill of that Captain?”

“Of course. You gonna join me?”

“I think I will. I was drinking beer, but I’m good. TV remote is right there, if you have DirecTV, you’ll know what it all is, if not, you’ll have to guess.”

I clicked the TV on, and it was on Motor Trend TV. I began looking around for signs of manness. Shoes, jacket, pictures, anything. I couldn’t find a thing, “SHIT.”

“You say something?”

“Me, no, I was just looking out the window.” God, that was lame.

She handed me my drink and offered, “To relaxing and having a chat.”

Clink

I drew nice sip, and she did the same. We were both nervous, but she seemed to be holding it together better.

She sat down in one of the recliners, which seemed odd. I thought she’d grab the sofa if she wanted me to join her. I shrugged it off and sat down in the other. There was a momentary awkward pause. We were both watching some How to Build It car show. I was wondering why it was on this channel, and she wasn’t talking. Say something funny, fool, I thought to myself.

Then, “I used to have a '67 Mustang when I was in my twenties. These shows are pretty cool if you know what they’re talking about.”

My relief may have well been written on my face with a Sharpie.

“You okay?”

I laughed, “Yes, I flipped on the TV and this channel was on. I figured right away there was a guy somewhere.”

“Ummm, nope. I’m not seeing anybody.”

With that, she stood up and kicked off her shoes, pulled the hem of her shirt out of the waistband of her jeans and sort of sauntered/crept over to me. She leaned down, putting both hands on an armrest and allowing the neck of her white shirt to gap open, leaving me a clean view of her boobs, wrapped up in that lace bra.

“You were jealous? Worried? Scared?”

I laughed nervously, wanting desperately to force my eyes up to hers but failing miserably.

“Mike, I’m up here," and she lowered her face even more.

“Yes, you are,” I laughed.

“You like what you see?”

I nodded.

She reached for the bottom of her shirt as if to pull it up, then stopped, looked at me, and smiled.

“You’re game for this, right?”

I nodded again.

She backed up a bit, and I thought for a second I’d blown it. She just stood there looking at me.

Them she reached for the button on her jeans and flipped it open, and unzipping them, spreading them open as she did, revealing a pair of pink lace panties.

I gulped.

Her hands went to her hips as she began to shimmy out of the jeans.

“I think I’d rather let you have the fun with the shirt.”

She pointed to my pants and commanded, “Lose them, please.”

I quickly stood up, but was met by a stiff arm, “No, stay there, just pull them off, and your shirt.”

I sat back down, and unbuttoned, unzipped, and started to pull my pants off.

“Show me what you’re wearing.”

I got my pants off, and lifted my shirt up, then shifted my hips forward. I was wearing a pair of blue performance boxer briefs. I like them snug so they provided support. Snug also made them feel like I was wrapped up all day; it helped me think of being stroked, or held. They also had the added benefit of outlining my package quite well, for just this occasion. Not to mention I was already semi-hard, and a brief touch in the right place was going to complete that job.

“Niiiice, we’re going to have a good time.”

With that, she walked toward me, opened both legs, pushed mine together, and leaned in again, giving me that view. This time, I was less shy. I knew what was up now, and I was 100% in the game. I slid my hands up her hips, followed her side, dipping them under her shirt until I felt the bottom of her bra. My hands slid up over that and felt the cups of her bra as they swelled out over her. I palmed each of her boobs over her bra and squeezed gently. She sighed and looked down at my lap.

Her hands slid off the armrests and onto my thighs, sliding up my legs. My hips involuntarily pushed toward her, hoping she’d go all the way to me.

My hands, meanwhile, kept up their end. My thumb and fingertips searching for a nipple under the lace. When I found them, her breath caught, and I thought I heard a “fuck”.

My dick was pushing hard up against the front of my underwear. Not leaving a lot to her imagination, but it felt amazing, as if she was touching me when she wasn’t yet.

She did notice, though.

“That looks like it’s a little bit uncomfortable,” as she pointed at me. “You need some help?”

I started to reach for my waistband to pull them off, when she slapped my hand away. “Not yet. I’ll take them off for you.”

With that, she reached down with her hand, grabbed the base of my dick and squeezed lightly. If I thought I couldn’t get any harder, I was wrong, and then she let go, but with a firm fingertip ran her finger slowly up the underside of me, stopping at that very sensitive spot under my head and circling there, pushing firmly into me. I thought I was going to blow the entire end off my dick, as my hips pushed up into her finger.

Then, she stopped. I was throbbing and panting. I wanted to show her what she was doing to me, though I knew she already knew. I grabbed at her shirt, going to pull it off, and she slapped my hands away again.

“You need to stop.”

She leaned even more forward again, but this time she moved up hips and legs but tossed her upper body back, pushing her chest out. She reached up under the back of her shirt, winked at me as she flipped up the hook on her bra. Sliding it off under the shirt, she leaned forward again, pausing so I could get a good glimpse. Her nipples were hard.

She leaned into me and slid her hips forward, meeting my hard-on with the front of her panties and pressing her tits into my chest. I could feel her nipples, I could feel how hot she was, and she started to slide up onto me.

“Oh my God.”

“You want me to stop?”

“No, I want you to take me out.”

“Take what out? Say it.”

“Take my dick out.”

“We’re not done here yet.”

She slid up against me again, concentrating on pressing into my head, as if she could sink down onto me with both her panties and my underwear still on. The sensation was amazing, but so frustrating. It was stimulating, but such a tease. I wanted more, needed more.

She kept sliding up against me and pressing herself into my chest. I was gasping; she was breathing hard. I reached behind her and grabbed her hips to pull her into me harder. She allowed that and sank farther into me, just grinding up against the very sensitive head of my dick. I could feel myself start into the pre-cum swell, when it’s leaking little drops and pulsing with my heartbeat, racing toward the finish.

“If you don’t stop...”

“I know, I can feel you.” (And oh my God, that’s hot.)

I was thinking that was my cue to go ahead. I’d told her, she acknowledged but didn’t stop, and if anything, she tried harder. So, my mindset was to let go, and I started pushing back, the need to cum overtaking the embarrassment of doing it without taking my underwear off.

But then, just as I was going to cum, she let go and got up, looking down at me. My dick throbbed against the front of my boxers, a small wet spot giving away my condition. My hips were still thrusting as if she was still sliding up against me.

“Fuck, Krista, why did you stop? I was riiiight there.”

“Because I’m not done,” and she slipped her thumbs into her panties, sliding them down her legs.

Then she leaned into me again and grabbed the elastic of mine and drew them down over my erection, pulling them down and off my legs.

She moved back into us, into the same position. Me sitting in the recliner, her straddling me, legs spread, hips thrust forward, shirt still on, but I could clearly see her nipples. She moved forward and grabbed me with her hand, stroking up and down a few times, her thumb always knowing to slide up against that spot underneath.

She licked her lips, and I was thinking, Oh God, if she leans down to use her mouth, I’m done.

She did, but not what I thought she would do. Instead, she leaned down, and she was holding me with her right hand and just started licking and flicking her tongue against the underside of my head. I was going crazy. She wasn’t giving me enough to make me cum, but I needed to soooo bad. I was so hard, it almost hurt, but that hurt that feels amazing.

She felt my frustration and stopped again. Probably not from sympathy as much as she didn’t want to risk me cumming. She wasn’t done yet.

Now, while she waited for me to cool off, she reached down between us. “Look down, Mike. I want you to see me playing with myself. I am so hot, and wet. I can’t wait to slide down onto you.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“You to calm down. If I slid down on you now, you’d blow in two strokes.”

I slid down in the chair and pressed myself up against her. She took the hint. I was ready.

She slid her hips forward, rocking against me, lifted, and reached down to hold me where she wanted me, then slowly started to drop. I could feel how wet she was. I was sliding in with almost no effort. She only slid down a bit before she lifted back off again and leaned in to kiss me.

“Fuck, you are a tease.”

“Yeah, but it will be worth it when you cum.”

She slid back down again, farther this time, then squeezed the head with her kegels. I groaned and thrust my hips. She anticipated that and backed off with me. My thrust gained me no purchase. I groaned again. She smiled.

“Feel good?”

“You have no idea.”

She slid down again, this time all the way. We both grunted as she began to grind her clit against my pubic bone. She reached down and began to pull her shirt off. I helped, then grabbed both tits and started rolling her nipples between my fingers. This time she groaned and squeezed me again, grinding harder.

She leaned into me, rubbing her tits against my chest, then whispered into my ear, “I’m going to cum on you.”

I grunted. I couldn’t talk anymore. I needed to hold on for her, but I was ready. I was swollen beyond what I could bear. She was grinding into me, the very tip of my dick deliciously dancing against her cervix.

She reached down between us one more time, slid her hand in and I could feel her fingertips working against her clit. She leaned back, her mouth open, tits blushing, and let go with a groan.

I followed right behind her, pushing up into her as hard as I could, pulling her hips into me, and released, flooding her with cum, pulsing into her.

After we calmed down, we sat there, me inside her; we could still feel our hearts beating at our joining and in our chests, and all we could say was, “Wow.”