Down On My Knees

When he pops out he is so big. He nearly slaps me in the face and I find that I gasp, my eyes going wide and the width and breadth and length of him.

That and the fact that he is hard. That he is so achingly hard and that it's all my fault and the thought of that sends butterflies fluttering in my tummy and I don't know that I'll ever get over that.

The idea that I could turn a man on. That they could look at me and only see Emily Ross, only see me as a cute little woman who they want to fuck. That they wouldn't see the man I was or any of the history I carried with me.

It all meant that my second chance had a real chance at coming true.

"Like what you see?" he laughs quietly but it's not cocky, it's just half-bemused by the sight I was making.

And I knew, even without seeing, how I must look. Eyes wide and mouth falling open at the size of him. Kneeling and just kind of shocked into stillness and just breathing heavily, just taking him in. Just intimidated a little, stuck down on my knees with my breasts pressing at the top that I'm wearing and his eyes glancing down the large neckline of my shirt to see my cleavage cutting quite a line.

To have a girl shocked into silence at the mere sight of your cock? Tell me what guy wouldn't get an ego boost from that.

I know I would have. I know just the sight of me let alone my reaction would have probably had me close to cumming already.

But then I wasn't the same anymore. I wasn't a man anymore. I was Emily now and she had a wholly different perspective on this situation.

"It's just that you're big," I said, not hiding the breathlessness in my voice as I blushed a little and reached tentatively to place my hands on his upper thighs and curl my fingers, tensing against him.

"You don't have to compliment me," he says, "You can be honest."

I look up at him and I see him staring for a minute and looking into his eyes... I see something.

He is older than me by a few years, how many I don't know. But it's clear that while he is more experienced than me his experiences aren't all good.

There is insecurity in him. Maybe a part of which is why he turned me down at first and maybe it's that he was worried that this was all some kind of trap for him and that I was too good to be true and I could see that.

A cute girl throwing herself at him without even knowing his name? I could see how that could be a trap.

My old paranoid mind would have made it one.

But it isn't a trap and I need him to know that. I am not a trap I am wholly sincere when I tell him that he's big, when I tell him that he's handsome, when I tell him that he's gorgeous, that he turns me on.

That I want him.

That I want him in me.

So I bite my bottom lip and my fingers curl in and they rest against the base of him, twitching a little as he jumps at the contact. I wait for an instant before withdrawing one hand to grasp my tank top and tug it over my head so that I'm kneeling there only in shorts and a sports bra and I lean in and give him a long and lingering kiss, one that is almost chaste, right against the head of his cock.

God my heart pounds as I do it. It pounds so loud in my chest and in my ears all I hear is the roaring rush of blood for an instant as I realize that this is the first time I've really touched a man like this but hell this body is all firsts for me and there is one more first I want to have with him, or one next at least.

I want to tell him a truth.

I want him to know.

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