Sadies' Meet Part 2

So another sip of wine, a quick check in the mirror, run my fingers through my fringe and with glass in hand I negotiated the stairs carefully.  With heels this high and my nerves firing impulses off at a rate Sonic would have been proud of,  I stepped from the stairs into the hall.  "Where would you like me" I said, "come in the lounge Sadie", he said and with a final straightening of my skirt, shoulders back I walked into the room. 
James, (not his real name) was sat on the settee at on end and immediately stood as I entered which boded well, a gentleman perhaps?  
We exchanged  Hi's and I sat at the opposite end of the couch diagonally, knees together and the crossed, feeling the nylon of my stocking clad legs pressing  against each other, I gripped the stem of my wine glass like a pen before an exam.  We chatted.  I could tell James was nervous too, we had discussed nerves  in our recent  email exchanges.  He had be kind enough to suggest that he forward a face pic so that I could defer any potential meeting early in our correspondence but he had not seen any pictures of me, only a whimsical description of what I might be wearing. So to say that I was nervous, concerned, apprehensive, anxious would not be an understatement. However I was not forcefully ejected from the house nor was I laughed at neither did he retire to another room instead we chatted, sipping our wine. How civilised, how comfortable, how vanilla... Nah, hang on a min here.  I think to myself, here I am a guy in a skirt, sitting in this guys house, on his settee  done up like a bitchin secretary talking to this handsome fella about bikes and music who, I believe want to get his hands on me and then ........he said something.I remember saying "of course", and uncrossing my legs, then his hand is on my leg. He likes the feel of nylons he says, his hand is smooth, they must be  as I don't feel my stocking 'pinging' or catching as he strokes that leg.  He comments on my skirt and how attractive it is, I say something about 'wet look' and his hand moves slightly higher onto the skirt.  I feel his fingers rub over the suspender clasp.  It was like a shot of black sambucca wired to the mains and he knew it!  I turned to face him and he leant in, I responded and we kissed.  This was something else that had been brought up in email conversation, whether I liked or wanted to or not, why not I said. So there we were, a gentle quite passionate, searching kiss and his hand moving back down the sheer silkyness of my skirt and back onto my stocking leg and then slowly back up my leg cunningly with a little more downward pressure guiding it under my taught skirt.  His hand  reached my stocking top and paused.  His tongue was finding its way gently around the perimeter of my mouth. I gently held the side of his head with one hand, the other was buried in the cushions of the settee somewhere stopping me from toppling over! After pausing at my right suspender clasp, his hand took a left heading for 'downtown'.In response , and as if by auto-pilot, my hand left his face traversed across his chest and came to rest at his belt buckle after and seemingly which under a mind of its own, proceeded to gradually inch its way down to a large fold in his jeans.  [You know the ones, when you sit down, you get creases around your groin and when you come out of the pool you try to fill your trunks / shorts with air to look a bit less conspicuous.  Well Dear readers this was not filled with air! It was solid! ]I traced the hard outline through the denim trying to gauge which way he dressed , left or right, why did it matter? I don't know, maybe I was stalling. My hand move up to the belt and deftly undid, pulled and unhooked his belt and with an unpractised movement unbuttoned his jeans. At that point I slid off the settee and onto my knees as he stood and let his jeans fall to the floor and stepped out of them.  He then asked if he should remove his shorts, I nodded he did so and sat back down. I moved gingerly between his open knees resting my elbows on his thighs. It was a manster! Well at least  I thought so. I haven't seen that many and when you spend allot of your life looking at your own or those thrust at you on here it was at the very least impressive.  I ran my hands up his thighs just on the inside which is more sensitive and came to his taught balls, smooth, cleanly shaven, not a pimple or ingrown hair in sight. Standing proud and strong was something that I took gently in two hands as if in prayer and massaged. The head was gorged and red looking almost angry.  My fingers traced its length  to the tip where my fingers made a small spiders web of sticky pre which only excited me more. My fingers found my mouth and were held there.  James was leaning back against the settee, eyes closed, breathing deeply "You have a lovely touch" he said "Thank you" I replied and leant in open to accept what felt  like a scaffold pole into my mouth.

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