I had my first date with the Doc yesterday. We agreed to meet up at an art museum roughly halfway and in the only town between where I live and where he lives 90 miles away.
We had agreed to meet a little after 1:00 as I had church in the morning and an hour drive from there to our meeting point. I had one tiny errand to run between church and our date and this put me a few minutes behind where I wanted to be. I apologized but Doc was gracious and indicated my tardiness was not noticeable at all, as he hugged me in greeting.
Entering the museum, I was a bit nervous. Yes, we'd been in contact for a few weeks. Yes, we had much in common and enjoyed our exchanges. Yes, I had suggested we go on a date.
But.... I had never met him before. I do not have a lot of experience dating. We had previously discussed the likelihood that this might not move beyond casual dating. Still, we agreed to look at some short-term enjoyment of one anothers' company, which is a good thing all around.
We were in the first gallery and after everything we had discussed and all he knew about me, and here he was looking beautiful with his curly salt and pepper (mostly pepper) hair and intensely blue eyes, I thought to myself, "I think I'd actually be okay kissing this man." I tried to focus on the art. I tried to read the plaques at the entrance to each gallery, the plaque next to each work of art.
I was distracted. I was distracted by this beautiful man whom I had just met and who knew so much about me and with whom I felt comfortable enough to want to kiss but nervous enough to ramble. A lot. Incessantly. As in, for two and half hours we were in the art museum, I barely shut up. I tried to give him room to speak and I even succeeded at points! But, at some point, I finally just told him, "I'm nervous and rambly and I'm sorry."
We had just managed to reach the last gallery when a security officer approached us, informed us of the hour, the museum was closing and we were required to leave. As we headed out of the museum, I wasn't sure what was next. As first dates go, this was pretty wonderful, but with all my nerves and chatter, I wasn't really sure Doc would be interested in a second.
Complete relief accompanied his suggestion of continued conversation and the possibility of dinner. I was pretty amenable to just about anything, and we headed toward the downtown area to see what was available. Turning a corner and spying a bar, Doc asked if I'd like to get a drink. Approaching the bar, however, we noted that they were closed for the holiday weekend.
Now, however, we were six or seven steps above street level and though completely in the open, the height and the concrete wall on the street side of the staircase and the fact that there were no other people on the street lent a feeling of privacy. I was sorely tempted to invite Doc to kiss me. Nerves kept me from doing so.
One might think that the fact that Doc asked to spend more time with me yesterday afternoon might have been interpreted as a sign of his continued interest. I, however, like to have things spelled out for me in a very blunt, straight forward manner.
So, we continued on and spying a bar down the next street that was open, we headed inside for a drink. As we settled into a booth, I crossed my legs and my foot ended up resting lightly against his calf. For a moment I considered whether or not I was ok with this physical contact. Ultimately, I decided I was. I was not, however, clear on whether or not Doc was aware. He, after all, was wearing blue jeans. I was in a dress and flip-flops. My foot was resting so gently against his pant leg, I thought he might not have noticed.
The waitress arrived to take our order. We requested a drinks menu. She brought one directly and in the intervening moments, Doc had moved his leg sufficiently that the pressure between his calf and my foot was undeniable. He did not shy away from the touch; nor did I.
The waitress gave us a few moments to peruse the menu while she attended to other patrons. Eventually she returned to take our order: IPA for him, a french martini for me.
Over our drinks, we chatted for some time. I still wasn't clear if the foot/calf contact was flirting or just an acceptance of the fact that occasionally crossing your legs under a table puts you into contact with others. However, being this was a date, and I was feeling comfortable, as we talked, I would occasionally touch Doc's hand or arm while making a point. With little response, I thought.
I began to wonder if he was enjoying himself, if he was merely tolerating me to be polite, if he was anxious to end the date with a "Nice to meet you, thank you for the company, I'm not interested in seeing you again, but it was worth a shot." When he would speak, I rested my hand on the table, wondered if I should just reach out and touch him.
Eventually, however, Doc tentatively touched my hand and before I knew it, we were holding hands and chatting and the connection was exciting and wonderful and made me even more nervous than before.
The waitress came back and asked if we needed anything else. Doc asked if I was interested in eating. I indicated I was and asked for a few minutes to peruse the menu. When I offered to share, Doc said to me, "I'm going to just lay things out for you in a really direct way." Oh, nervousness. This is it, I thought. He's not interested. He's going to tell me he's had a very nice time, and he's happy to have dinner, but he doesn't want to see me again. Doc started by explaining his outlook on his immediate future plans and then said, "I like you. I've enjoyed spending with you, and I'd like that to continue. So, I'm proposing that we go back to my house. I'll cook you dinner tonight; I'll make you eggs in the morning. I'm not looking for or expecting sex. I'm having a good time and I want to continue the evening. What are your thoughts?"
"Yes. Yes to all of that. Yes to the no sex, but I'd still like to make out with you."
Doc paid the bill and we headed out.
I had to move my car - overnight tow away zone - and we agreed to meet at a location known to both of us before proceeding to his house. I took the opportunity to stop by a department store and pick up a toothbrush and contact lens solution and case.
Doc drove us to the grocery store so he could pick up a few essentials, and then to his home, where he introduced me to his book collection and furbabies. Then, he made me an absolutely delicious margarita and started making dinner. More conversation followed, a bit of flirting, a bit of nerves.
As one who does not drink much or often and who hadn't eaten yet that day, I was starting to feel the margarita. Doc indicated he felt as though he may have provided me with too much alcohol under the circumstances.
"I want to be clear about something," I told him. "I know it was after the martini that I mentioned making out, but I had been intending to invite you to kiss me long before you suggested we stop for a drink. I may be a little tipsy now, but I had intended to consent then and I'm consenting now. So, anytime you'd like, you are welcome to kiss me."
Immediately he was before me, kissing me with surprising intensity. I had just begun to settle into the kiss and move past the suddenness of it to relax into the delight of feeling his mouth on mine, raising an arm to pull him in closer. "I've been wanting to do that for awhile," he said. "And unfortunately, I have to attend to the food." He returned to cooking.
We enjoyed dinner and then sat down to watch Joe and the Volcano, cuddling on the couch. I leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around me in a gentle embrace. As we watched the movie, holding hands, occasionally kissing, Doc stroking my hair and nuzzling my neck, I grew more comfortable and shifted his hand slightly. "I'm inviting you to touch me," I told him as I slid his hand beneath my clothing to touch the bare skin of my breast.
There were moments when it was difficult to pay attention to the movie, but it was silly and ridiculous and fun, so I remained focused while occasionally sighing and shivering with delight at Doc's touch.
When the movie ended, I turned and we began kissing rather passionately, wedged into the corner of his couch. The positioning was bit awkward and Doc paused in his kissing to say, "There is a whole bed available," and we retired to his bedroom and he excused himself to brush his teeth and complete his evening routine before settling into the bed with me as we kissed and touched and enjoyed one another.
Eventually, I removed my bra, followed by my panties, followed by my dress, as Doc kissed, touched, stroked my arms, breasts and legs. Eventually Doc himself stripped down to his boxers and I delighted in touching his chest hair, running my hands over his body, enjoying the expanse of his shoulders.
Touching my genitals, he asked, "Is this okay?"
"Yes," I told him as he began to finger my clit while kissing me. I told him what was working, what wasn't, how I needed him to touch me; he told me he wanted to make me feel good. He succeeded.
"Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do," he said to me.
"I want penetration," I told him. "Please, put two fingers in me," I gasped, aching to feel fuller as he continued to stroke my clit.
The penetration was wonderful, and I began to stroke and massage my clit myself. Doc, touched my arms, my face, my breasts. He kissed me as he continued fingering my pussy. He kissed the inside of my knee, moving his way up my thigh, kissing my lower belly.
"Do you need me to move my hand?" I asked. "Do you want something specific?" He told me how much he enjoyed watching me touch myself while he touched me as well.
The pleasure which had started at that first kiss in the kitchen continued to build until my orgasm crashed over me, leaving me keening and moaning in pleasure. As I was coming down, my orgasm reaching it's end, Doc withdrew his fingers from me. "No!" I gasped. "Please don't stop!" So, he continued to finger fuck me until my first orgasm ended and a second wave of pleasure rolled through me.
When it was over, when I was done and spent and immobile with bliss, I told him I was done. We kissed, he held me, and I delighted in the occasional spasms of pleasure that continued in my pussy for several minutes afterward as we talked until nearly midnight.
We drifted off to sleep eventually, still touching.
This morning came early as the furbabies demanded that they be fed. Doc told me he would be right back, and I took the time he was feeding the furbabies to get a glass of water. Furbabies satiated, we returned to bed.
Additional kissing, stroking, touching; this time, Doc was naked as well.
Eventually, Doc asked if I would permit him to perform oral sex on me. I consented. And as he licked, nibbled and sucked on my clit, I thought I'd died from the pleasure of it. It was my first experience of cunnilingus.
I asked him to insert two fingers into my pussy while he continued. Eventually, desperate for more, I asked if he'd also insert a finger in my ass. Doc asked me to shift closer to the edge of the bed to accomodate my request.
I came without knowing when or what put me over the edge. I just knew that eventually everything was simply too much and I could feel the occasional spasm that follows release.
We kissed again and lay entangled, talking over some of the finer details of the exchange. "When you kissed my inner thigh last night, I thought you might be wanting to perform oral sex on me," I told him, a little confused that he hadn't asked the night before, or told me so when I asked if he wanted something or would prefer that I stop touching myself.
"I wanted to," he told me.
"I wish I had known. I really wanted you to, but I couldn't ask you for that," I confessed.
"You should have," he said. "I wish you had. You should be able to ask for what you want."
"I do," I told him. "I do ask for what I want. This is the one exception. I can't ask my partner for oral sex. I can't." And then I told him why I can't and he listened and was caring and supportive and made it clear how much he had enjoyed himself.
Then, Doc made me an amazing breakfast - an orange, scrambled eggs with mushrooms, ham, chives and goat cheese, fresh ground coffee prepared in a french press. Absolute bliss.
After breakfast, we returned to the couch. Doc apologized for crossing a line the night before, as he had stated upfront he wasn't expecting or seeking sex - just a continuation of the conversation and company. "I'm okay with everything that took place last night and this morning," I assured him. "Penile penetration at this point would have been more than I could have handled, but this...this was wonderful." We continuned to snuggle and chat, kiss and touch until it was time for me to leave.
All in all, it was an exceptional first date.
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