Two proposals.

On the day of Amber’s last final of her junior year, you take her out for a celebratory dinner at the best restaurant in town. You have prime rib, while she orders filet mignon, and you enjoy a bottle of Blue Mountain Pinot noir together. Blue Mountain is one of several British Columbia wineries you have come to value highly on your business trips to Vancouver; it’s not available in your part of the country, except here. You’ve been a valued guest at this restaurant for years, so when you put in a special request for a few BC wines, they gave you what you wanted. This is the first time you’ve shared this with Amber, and she’s enjoying it immensely.

You linger long at the restaurant over cups of coffee and a killer chocolate dessert for two that probably takes three years off each of your lives, but is absolutely worth it. You probably spend as much time feeding each other dessert as you do taking your own bites. The restaurant is a bit slow tonight, so the staff feels no pressure to move you on; they watch you indulgently and affectionately as you giggle like a pair of schoolchildren and smile like young lovers (which, you suppose, you actually are).

You’re in no hurry to make it home, so you go for a walk to enjoy the evening for a while. You walk hand in hand, talking of everything and nothing. Eventually, you drift up to your car and drive home. Your conversation continues through the drive, into the house, and on into your bedroom. You lie down on the bed, snuggle up with each other, and keep talking. As you talk, you caress Amber, first softly and aimlessly, then with growing purpose. Your conversation gives way to kisses that soon grow urgent and demanding. Amber undresses you, then straddles you and takes off her shirt. She’s wearing a new piece of lingerie—new to you, anyway: a black silk teddy that laces up the front like a corset. She sees the look on your face and says in a sultry voice, “You like it, baby?”

“You know I love it, sexy girl,” you respond in a voice suddenly gone husky. “You’d look good in a burlap sack, but—fuck, that’s hot.”

“Mmmm,” she hums. “Play with my titties.” She leans forward and purrs with pleasure as you caress her boobs, feeling them through the silk, and then her silken skin above the cleavage. When you reach for the laces, however, she swats your hand away. “Not yet, naughty boy,” she says, and leans forward further to kiss you.

She gets off the bed to shimmy out of her skirt, and you discover that what you had thought were pantyhose are actually stockings—the teddy builds in a garter belt. She straddles you again and starts rubbing her silk-covered pussy along the length of your prick. You moan, and she falls forward onto her hands to kiss you, then pulls back a bit. “My tits need more attention,” she says. You run your hands over them, thumbing her nipples through the silk, then try again to open the laces; this time, she lets you. You can’t unwrap her all the way, of course, but you free her tits for your hands and mouth. She moans her encouragement and humps your shaft harder as you feast on her treasures, with special attention to her yearning nipples.

She’s leaning forward enough that you can slip your hands up and slide the straps over her shoulders; she lets you, then sits up to slide them the rest of the way off. You push off the bed and sit up as well, grabbing her ass. She pushes back against you and purrs, then purrs louder as you uncouple the stockings from the straps on the teddy. “You want this off, lover? You want your Amber naked on top of you?” she asks seductively.

“I want to see your pussy, baby. I want to feast on your honey,” you tell her.

She shivers and makes quick work of removing the teddy, then straddles your face and braces her hands on the headboard. “Eat me, lover. Eat me until I scream.”

You fill your mouth with her pussy and your hands with her tits. You fondle her boobs and tweak her nipples while you lick her quim from stern to stem. You tongue-fuck her for a while, doing various tricks with your tongue in her cunt, then take her clit between your lips and suckle it like a nipple. “Yeah, baby,” Amber moans. “Fuck yeah, lover . . . suck my clit . . . like that . . . like that . . .” The wave of her orgasm breaks across her and her moans rise to a howl; she grinds her twat into your face and presses her tits into your willing hands.

She comes down off her climax, but not far; her expression is lustful as she shifts back to straddle your hips. She takes your cockhead into her molten pussy, then rocks and gyrates her hips, stroking your head all over with her tight fuckhole as she might do with her hand or her lips. You moan and thrust upward, but she moves with you, keeping you just inside the gates of paradise. You subside; she’s in control.

“You want my pussy, don’t you, baby,” she purrs. “You want my tight, hot, wet little college-girl pussy swallowing your big fucking pussy rocket. You want to bury yourself deep inside my hot body and feel me squeezing your cock . . .” Amber has to pause. She’s trying to get you stirred up, but she’s doing an even better job on herself. After a minute, her voice noticeably huskier, she resumes. “But if you want my tight little pussy, you have to answer a question first.”

“A question?” you groan. “What question?”

“Will you marry me?”

By this point, you have a one-track mind at best—and you’ve had every intention of marrying her anyway. You just thought you should wait, but any such restraint is out the window. “Yes!” you say, and with an exultant cry, she slams herself down on you and begins frantically rocking and sliding her hips. Clearly, she’d worked herself crazy with desire and had barely been holding herself in check; now that she’s accomplished her purpose, all she can think of is getting herself off as fast as she can.

For all that, you cum just before she does. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, leaving you no time to speak; your hips buck and you blast your cum into her hotbox. “Cum!” she cries out, then her climax hits and she screams at the top of her lungs. Her pussy locks down on your cock, which is only too glad to be seized. Your bodies fuse as they thrum together in ecstasy; then the wave passes, and Amber drops down on top of you. You roll her off to the side and hold her close.

When you can speak again, you ask, “Why?”

She knows what you mean and sees no reason to pretend otherwise. “I know you thought we needed to wait,” she says softly. “But my mother has done everything she can do, and nobody thinks we’re rushing anything. My friends take our wedding for granted—they just want to know when it will be so they can schedule it in. They don’t see any reason we should wait until I graduate, either; if it weren’t for the difficulty in planning, they’d be all in favor of us marrying this summer. As it is, they think we should have a Christmas wedding. And from some of the comments I’ve heard, or had relayed to me, I think your friends and associates think the same way.”

“You’re right,” you admit. “I guess I was going off my assumptions about what people would think and not listening to what they actually think.”

“What they think is that we’re perfect for each other, and everything we need to do from here on out we can do better with rings on our fingers.”

“You’re right,” you say again. “Amber Lynn Rose, will you marry me?”

She laughs, and her eyes fill with tears. “Yes, love. Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

You hold her close and kiss the top of her head. “Tomorrow morning, let’s go buy you a ring.”