0 comments/ 12324 views/ 0 favorites Holdout By: Otzchiim The first time that Jim asked me out, we went to an Italian restaurant, then to a movie. All pretty standard (though very nice), except that he did not try to kiss me when he left me at my front door. I was almost disappointed, but I found it kind of pleasant and old-fashioned to find someone who was willing to go slow. I liked Jim, but I liked him even more after that evening. I remember thinking that a first date that didn't end with a casual kiss at least had the potential to turn into something less casual. That was on Saturday. On Tuesday, Jim came by my desk and asked me about going to an outdoor pop concert on Friday night. The singer was a fairly obscure woman whose work I had always liked, and I gladly said yes. On Wednesday, Jim told me that the Friday concert had been sold out, but he'd gotten tickets for the Saturday performance, if I was available. And he offered another movie for Friday, if I didn't think that he was pushing too hard. I said yes again; I was happy that he would worry about "pushing too hard", but I was quite willing to date him two nights in a row. And I was more available lately than I really liked. I was only two months beyond breaking off a long-standing affair, though I certainly wouldn't have told Jim that. That Friday evening went very well, and this time Jim did kiss me at my door. That also went very well. I was tempted to invite him in for a while, but I didn't. If he was willing to build a relationship slowly and cautiously, I was also very willing, as long as it stayed as nice as this. I sort of expected Jim, on the third date, to begin to try to maneuver me into bed. It's a common pattern these days. I expected to say no, but to take my time about saying no. I enjoy being tempted that way by a man and I enjoy thinking about yielding to his temptations. If the man is one whom I am not sure that I would ever say yes to, well, it's a harmless compliment to hesitate. If I am sure I wouldn't, it's a good time to act insulted and break it off right there. That night was so wonderful and the songs and the music left me feeling so romantic that I really think I might have said yes right away. Certainly I would not have taken much persuading. But he didn't try. When he took me home I invited him in for coffee to give him more opportunity, but nothing came of it except a more intense kiss -- with many ordinary ones preceding it that night, so there was some progress. The next Saturday I was going to be in his neighborhood in the late afternoon, so I met him at his apartment before we went out together to dinner and a museum slide-lecture. We ended the evening back at his apartment where his hands on my face and shoulders and back gave me a nice glow on my drive home alone. But still he made no serious moves. I started having erotic dreams about Jim, and not all of them while I was asleep, if you follow me. I was actually getting hot for his body without him doing anything much to make me so. About then I started trying to think of a way to bring it up (so to speak) without seeming like a tramp. This was something new to me. The next weekend we dated on both Friday and Saturday again. The Friday dinner-theater trip was not very enjoyable, but for reasons unrelated to Jim; the players were not very good. This time we stood for a long time at my door, our hips pressed together and with his hand on my rear. I was having trouble not climbing all over him, but I sure as hell didn't want to scare him off by doing so -- certainly not until I had gotten well and thoroughly laid. The Saturday movie was better, and we spent an hour talking in my apartment afterward. What turned the tide, I learned later, was a comment that I made just before we said goodnight. He mentioned a man's name, a computer analyst who was now at another company, and when I recognized the name, he asked if I had known the man long. I answered that I had known him very well for a while and that two years ago I was almost on the point of moving in with him. Jim raised his eyebrows and sort of relaxed. I found out later that he thought I might be, let's call it inexperienced, and therefore he was going slower than he wanted to! The seventh date was an all-day thing, starting when he met me at my apartment at ten. When he first saw me on that Saturday morning, I saw his eyes run down my body and the blue dress I wore. I thought about his hands following the path of his eyes, from my face to my breasts and down between my legs. We started with brunch at a restaurant. If you are in the right state of mind, music is not the food of love, food is. Everything that was long made me wonder if he was. Everything that was soft made me think of his touch. Everything that was hard... Well, you can guess. Everything that was sweet made me think of his kisses. Tasting something salty made me think of swallowing his semen -- my subconscious was getting pretty bad. We went from there to a movie matinee. When we held hands in the theatre, our hands were in his lap and I felt his interest in me. There were very few people in the theatre that noon, but there were enough that I had to control my impulse to do something drastic and obscene right there. Being there with him made it difficult to pay much attention to the movie, but the love scenes made things worse anyway. Then we went walking and talking until dinner. First we window-shopped and I discovered that we agreed about what sort of things looked good on me. (And my mind said, I want you to admire my clothes as you take them off me and to see me wear nothing for you.) I noted a skirt to pick up next week. We spent some time outside a travel agency, discussing places we had been. (And my mind said, I want to have you in a private place of my own, to go in and out until we reach paradise.) We sat in the park and talked and watched the children play, and, yes, I wondered how he would be as a father. We ate dinner in a diner in his neighborhood and we went back to his apartment. And I was very glad to get there. Everything, all day, from the food in the morning to the love scenes in the movie, to, well, the trees... All I had been able to think of was having him make love to me. And this time I was sure that he wanted the same. When he put his key in the lock and twisted it to open the door so that we could enter his apartment, I wanted to have him enter me, to open me up, put it in and screw. He had me sit down while he brought me a glass of wine. When I put up a hand to take it, he gave it to me and kissed the back of my hand. I set the glass down and reached for his hand to kiss his palm. He seemed amused by this. Whether to tease me, or for some other reason, he stepped back and I rose from my chair, holding out my arms to him. He kissed my lips and I responded so passionately that his own glass of wine nearly spilled on the floor. He said: "There are depths in you that I had not suspected." What I said to him was, "I want you to know them." What I thought was, "I want to have you in me, deep in me!" "I begin to think that you are as attracted to me as I am to you," he said. What I said to him was, "You are very attractive. I am very charmed by the way you talk and act." What I did not say was, "I'd like even more some action of another sort." "I hope that you would not be offended if I say that I think very highly of you, and I think that our relationship could stand to be taken a step further," he said. I said, "I feel the same way, and I am very willing to take the step." I thought, "I don't need to take any steps. If you asked me to, I think I would lie down right here and spread for you!" What more we said I don't remember, and it doesn't matter. We were already moving in the right direction, into his bedroom. We stopped beside his bed and he kissed me again, delicately this time. Then he reached behind me to free the hook and draw the zipper all the way down my dress. When he lifted the shoulder straps off, the dress fell in a rustle to the floor. I stepped out of it and I stood before him in bra and panties. You may ask, feeling the way I did, why I had worn a bra that day, since I might be more attractive without one. There were two reasons. Firstly, the convenience was outweighed by the pleasure of giving Jim more to take off of me, of prolonging the very last part of the waiting by a little bit once the conclusion was in sight. The second and more practical reason was that being with him kept me aroused much of the time, and my nipples would have been rubbed raw by moving against my dress before we got here! He held me in his arms again, and I began to unbutton his shirt. When I was half-done, I leaned my head forward and brushed the side of my face against his chest-hair. He held me tighter, and we stood there for a moment while I breathed in the aroma of his body. His hands slowly stroked up and down my shoulder- blades. I straightened up and undid the rest of the buttons, then lifted the shirt off his shoulders. He looked strong, and I wanted very much to feel that body over mine, thrusting into me. He kissed me, his tongue going deep into my mouth, and I felt his hands release the hooks on my bra and felt my nipples expand, free at last. His hands slid outward from the middle of my back, massaging and relaxing each inch of skin that he touched. He slid his hands beneath my arms and on to the sides of my breasts, and I felt a little surge of desire when his thumbs touched and pressed both erect nipples at the same instant and the backs of his hands lifted my bra away. After he put the bra aside, he gazed at my face and my body and said, "You are beautiful," before kneeling to touch his lips to one breast. I crushed him to me with an ache for him running through all my body. Soon he rose again and I opened his trousers. He stepped out of them and I saw the bulge that filled his briefs. Or more than filled them, because I could see a tiny sliver of skin from where his erection had pushed back the elastic band and showed above it. I stepped forward to take his last clothing in my hand, and as I lowered it, I went down with it. I sank to my knees as the briefs reached his ankles, and I kissed the head of his penis. Once the underwear was totally off and laid aside, I took his most respectable equipment in one hand and looked at it, admiring it before running my tongue around the head and down the shaft. When I began in earnest to take that sweet throbbing instrument of love into my mouth, I felt a tug and was urged to my feet again. "It would be very nice to have you do that," Jim said, "but I think you deserve the best that I can give you, and I have been thinking for a long while about giving it to you in the best way that I know how." I felt moisture begin to trickle down my thigh. He led me back to his bed and removed my panties, stopping to plant a kiss in my belly-button, then he lifted me in his arms. He lowered me onto the middle of his bed and lay beside me. He began to caress my breasts, to stroke my body, but I said to him: "Please don't. I can see, I can feel in my hand that you are ready for me and it seems that I have been ready for you forever. I want you very much, I want you in me, and I want you now. Please give me all you have and make it hard and fast." And he did. He positioned himself between my spread legs and quickly slid in all the way with a satisfying collision at the bottom. That entry seemed to expand my walls like nothing ever had. His penis, while large, did not seem anything truly extraordinary, but it felt that way going in. Perhaps it was my sensitivity from long anticipation. Perhaps it was the angle of entry. Perhaps I was just in love with him, though a modern girl hates to think that way. Whatever the reason, it was wonderful. It was wonderful to feel him tunneling deep into me, to barely catch my breath from one glorious stroke before the next came thundering in. It was wonderful to have him most of the way out of me, with the head of his penis going in and out of the area right at my entrance in short strokes while his mouth was at my nipples. It was wonderful to feel his weight on me and to feel his sperm scalding me far up at the last, when I reached fulfillment under him. The next morning, the ache between my legs was of a very different kind. But it also went away when Jim touched me there, not long after he awoke. This time our caresses started slowly and built. His fingers roamed all over my body with a touch that varied from delicate to demanding, but was always appropriate to the moment. He opened me tenderly and entered me with skill and assurance. This time we made love without last night's urgency, but with an equal peace at the end. My unused muscles ached -- I was not used to a man who kept going so long -- but this was an exercise program I might stick to. We dressed and spent the day talking to each other and reading the Sunday paper. I had no plans for the day, and I did not want to leave him. After those two exquisite sessions, we both needed to clean up, however. His shower head was broken, so we had to settle for baths, late in the afternoon. He went first, and he was still lying there naked on the bed when I came out wrapped in a towel. He stood and kissed me and somehow, not to my great surprise, the towel came open. I might have thought that my body would be difficult to arouse by now, that such satisfactions would leave me satiated, but this was not true. Either my hunger was greater than I thought or Jim was a better lover than I could have imagined. He took me into his bed and used his hand to build me to a high passion, then moved down and used his lips between my legs. His hands spread me open and his tongue darted in and my body writhed and jerked. I urged him to move so that I could reciprocate, and he did. I took him into my mouth and licked his clean fresh genitals. The third time that he brought me to a climax with his tongue, I felt his hot semen shooting into my throat, with all of his shaft buried in my mouth and throbbing there. On Sunday night I left his apartment. A month later he moved in with me. Holdout Ch. 2 I saw Cele Choi the day she started working for my company. I knew that she was good at what she did, and that she had transferred from one of our competitors to get higher pay. What mattered more to me, though, was that she was witty, pleasant, and pretty. I took two weeks to get reassurances from another girl in the office that she was not engaged or involved, and then I asked her for a date. I was more formal on the date than usual because I did not want to ruin my chances with her. She liked that. I talked to a woman Cele ate lunch with for information about her taste in music, and lucked into a concert by a favorite of hers that weekend. I really wanted to see Cele again, and she instantly said yes to another date with me. That was the good news. The bad news was that I had asked for Friday, already sold out. Saturday was more expensive but available. As was Cele, to my surprise and relief. I maybe pushed my luck a bit by suggesting a movie for Friday -- she might have wanted something more special this early in the game. I was surprised that this prize was not booked up, or long married really. I wondered if there was some fatal flaw I had not seen yet. Was she an iron- pants virgin? I could live with that, for a while. She seemed the sort I might propose to, depending on how things went. The movie was good, and the company better. I did not push her beyond a kiss goodnight at her door, but she was very good at that and the feel of her body in my arms made me want to be in her. That would be a very good night! But it would be more likely with a slower pace. The singer on Saturday was someone I frankly had never heard of, but she was good, given to soft dreamy ballads. Cele was mesmerized by the end of the concert, and I had a strong temptation to see if that mood would extend to physical activity with me. It is not uncommon to begin sex on the third date, but I decided to hold back. As it was, we shared a number of kisses that night. As I was driving her to her apartment I asked her about going to a museum lecture on the next Saturday. While she hesitated, she seemed less reluctant than still wrapped up in the concert. She did not hesitate to invite me in. We sat drinking coffee and talking until midnight, and when I left the kiss she gave me was a nice surprise. Her tongue crept shyly into my mouth and wriggled nicely. So it was plain that she was amenable to going further than we had. God, she felt good to hold! She visited my place for the first time next Saturday afternoon, and we went from there to a restaurant for dinner and on to the slide-lecture. And we returned to my couch at the end of the day where we spent a happy hour or so in kissing and cuddling and something skirting the edge of fondling. She drove home alone, but I like to think she sort of wished she hadn't. Cele was in my dreams by them, and even more in my daydreams and fantasies. I imagined slowly undressing her, fondling her, laying her down, entering her, bringing her to ecstacy over and over... And I wondered if I ever would and what would be the circumstances. Well, I could certainly dream, and I did. We spent both evenings together the next weekend. The dinner part of the dinner theatre on Friday was very good; the play was badly done. But the evening was excellent, with a session at her apartment door for over an hour in close quarters. We never went in. Perhaps it was best in a way. I would have had trouble not pressing to be all the way in, I fear, and I felt that Cele was a golden-skinned treasure who should be captured slowly and with care if at all. After the movie on Saturday, we sat and talked in my apartment. Just before she left, I told a story about a computer analyst who had left our company before Cele Choi came on board. She said she had heard it from him. "You know him?" I asked. "I dated him. A couple of years ago I thought about living with him," she said. I was startled, of course. This put a whole new perspective on my chances and methods with Cele. I could only wish that I had told that story earlier. Perhaps Cele would not have gone home that night at all. Our seventh date began when I knocked on her door at ten on Saturday morning and she greeted me with a very warm kiss. Cele was wearing a pale blue dress with a little lace at the sleeves, and she filled it very well. But as I ran my eyes over it, I thought more of how she could fill my arms while out of it, and of how it would feel to fill her, to stuff her as much as I could. A buffet lunch at a restaurant to begin. I did not pay as much attention to the food as I perhaps should have; I was thinking too much of Cele. I suddenly wondered how she tasted -- between the legs I mean. I wondered if she liked that. I hoped so, since there are few things I like better than watching a woman build slowly to a climax that way. If she had never tried it, I would certainly love to introduce her to it... But I stopped daydreaming; time was passing. A movie matinee next. We held hands, and our hands at first were on my thigh. At some point (perhaps at my unconscious urging) they drifted to my lap. The touch of her hand there, or the thought of her, gave me an erection, and while she must have felt it she clearly did not mind. In fact she pressed down, as if tempted to reverse her palm and grasp my hard shaft. Though that may have been wishful thinking. We still held hands when we left the theatre. We looked into store windows as we walked on the street, and I imagined Cele in each outfit that she studied. I also, however, imagined Cele stripped of every cloth and standing with her arms opened in welcome for me. I was sure her birthday suit was lovely. We discussed, outside a travel agency, places we had visited. I thought of spending weeks lying beside her on some secluded beach -- but decided that the seclusion and lying beside her were the important parts. We watched children in the park while I considered that after only knowing Cele for seven weeks my mind wandered to the sort of mother she would make for my children. A diner in my neighborhood concluded the day, or at least the public part of it. All that had happened today, from the first sight of her in the blue dress to the way she used her mouth at dinner... Well, you can imagine what that brought up. And I could hope the night was just beginning. As I opened the door to my apartment, I glanced at Cele, and the way she looked back made me think that we would go further than before -- perhaps to bed. She sat while I poured her a glass of wine, and one for myself. I kissed the hand she lifted for hers, and after setting the glass down she grasped my now-free hand and kissed my palm. I smiled and stepped back to admire her. She left her wine sitting and stood up, reaching out almost as invitingly as I had imagined. (She wasn't nude, after all.) I kissed her lips and her reply was so fervent and hungry that I had to put my glass by hers before it spilled. "There are depths in you that I had not suspected," I said. And that lovely passionate woman said, "I want you to know them!" My mind said, "I want to know you, in every way I can!" "I begin to think that you are as attracted to me as I am to you," I said. And Cecilia replied, "You are very attractive. I am very charmed by the way you talk and act." My instant thought was, "I can think of acts I would want to perform with you." I said instead, "I hope you would not be offended if I say that I think very highly of you, and I think that our relationship could stand to be taken a step further." "I feel the same way, and I am very willing to take the step," she said. And I thought that it was only a few steps to my bedroom door, and there I hoped to find her very willing indeed. I took her in my arms, and with a few more words and many kisses we indeed stepped through that doorway. Beside the bed, at the last point of decision, I kissed her gently again. Her response reassured me, and I reached to unhook her dress and draw the zipper down to her sweet rear. With the straps slipped off, there was a soft rustle of falling cloth. Cele stepped from it, only in a white bra and blue panties that almost matched the dress. The bra was perhaps surprising, since she seldom wore one, but removing it had been often in my fantasies since I noticed it. I imagined her moderate but perfect breasts waiting for my touch, for my lips, with hard raised nipples. For all that Cele was a little short (Korean ancestry, after all) her legs were long enough to wrap very well around a lover's hips -- as she was sure to demonstrate tonight. I gazed for a moment at her half-nude form, appreciating it before moving to hold it again. As I took her into my arms, she moved to unbutton my shirt. When my chest-hair was exposed, she brushed one cheek against it and paused. By impulse, I held her more closely and stood while we savored the moment. She had a trace of perfume, but the odor of her flesh had a greater effect on me as I stroked her back softly. She finished undoing the buttons and removed the shirt. Cele smiled at the sight of my muscles, obviously approving of my body, and whispering that she wanted very much to feel its weight on hers. I kissed her, putting my tongue deep into her, and as she pressed forward I opened the hooks on her bra. My hands touched the suddenly-bared spot in the middle of her back, massaging her skin and moving forward inch by inch. I passed under her arms, under her bra, grazing the sides of her mounds as I went, and felt her gasp as I touched both hard nipples simultaneously and rubbed them before lifting the bra up and off with the backs of my hands. Once her golden globes were exposed I looked at her and told her she was beautiful before stooping to put my lips to one breast and draw its little peak even further out. Her arms wrapped around and held me to her. When I straightened, she opened my trousers. As I stepped from them, her eyes clearly went to the bulge in my briefs -- or mostly in, since she had aroused me to the point that the head of my erection was projecting above the elastic band. She took that band in her fingers and pulled it down, and as it went down, so did she. As my briefs reached the floor, her mouth touched the head of my penis to kiss it. Then she took the shaft and turned her head as if considering it before her tongue ran around the head and along the aching length. It was a sight which I had imagined many times, but the reality was better. When her mouth opened and half the length entered it, however, I decided not to let her go on, although the decision was a very difficult one to make. I told her, "It would be very nice to have you do that, but I think you deserve the best that I can give you, and I have been thinking for a long while about giving it to you in the best way that I know how." I saw a little of her secretions run down one thigh, and for a moment I was silent. By my bed, I lowered her panties, stopping to kiss her navel on the way back up, then I lifted her and placed her in the middle of my bed, kissing her again before lying by her side. One hand went to fondle her pubic area, but she whispered: "Please don't. I can see, I can feel in my hand that you are ready for me and it seems that I have been ready for you forever. I want you very much, I want you in me, and I want you now. Please give me all you have and make it hard and fast." I followed her directions. She was so aroused that I easily went all the way to the bottom on the first stroke, and there I achieved one of my fantasies of her by staying all the way in, my hips flexed for the deepest penetration. The only motion for a while was the reflexive jerking of her pelvis as the sexual tension built up in her. When I moved I moved in short violent strokes, staying deep in her, which built her to a fast explosive orgasm. Her tiny muscles milked me, but I was a long way from producing anything for her. Then I withdrew almost completely, to enter her lower lips again and again and use the nerve-endings right at her opening while I bent over to tongue and nibble at her nipples until her body shook in another sexual climax. After a little rest, I began to give her long slow strokes, from almost nothing to everything I could, and this time we built further than before, and as she came, longer and stronger, I poured out my semen into her. Her first words to me in the morning were, "I ache. I wish I ached like that more often." I offered to massage her wherever she wanted, but somehow the touches made her forget the soreness more than remove it. My fingers, oh, piqued her interest, and in was not too long before I was gently pumping into her from below as we lay on our sides. The pressure of our frustration was gone, but this slow love-making was very nice also, and the inner peace that followed was more than that. "You are wearing me out," she murmured. "This would be a great way to keep in shape, though. I'll probably lose weight, too..." She made breakfast and I went for the Sunday paper after we dressed. She had made no plans for the day, somewhat in hopes that the night would go as it did. I would like to have showered with Cele, but the shower head was not working. I took a bath first, in the afternoon, and was still naked and half-dozing when she came out in a big bath-towel. I stood up at the sight, as an appendage of mine started to also. I kissed her and it went the rest of the way. The towel went to the floor. I wondered at the appetite we both had for each other, but I was not about to complain. Our hands roved, and touched, and fondled, as if we were just discovering each other and what we were doing.. Cele was a great prize to win. We moved back to my bed and I took her over the top with my hand, then moved down between her legs. I was not the first to use his mouth on her there; there had been another. But I was the first to take her beyond foreplay with it. That was enough. She was very responsive and soon reached another peak. Then she had me move so she could do the same to me. And at the point when she reached a third climax under my tongue, she had my erection all the way into her throat and was accepting the seed pumping from it. Cele went home that night. In a month we were living together.