You definitely won't argue

When you got your first computer, a vintage Vic-20 passed down from your grandfather, you read that no matter what you code, you can't hurt the computer. Later, you learned that this wasn't quite right... that the right Poke command could cause the 6502 processor to race uncontrollably, ultimately destroying it. You just hope that whatever you do with Crystal isn't the metaphorical equivalent to Vic's notorious Poke of ****.

You slide your hands under her legs and get up, lifting her.

She makes appreciative noises and you thank your stars you've been working out. She isn't fat or anything, but she's not tiny either. But fuck if you'll make this look anything but easy.

It's only five steps between her table and her bed so you make it without having to breathe hard. As for your heart racing, well, put that down to the fact that you're carrying the girl every programmer at MicroStuff wanted to macro-stuff to her bed.

She kisses you as you carry her, cutting your breath even more but you tough it out. The reward is worth the price... at least you hope it will be. What if you're misreading the situation? Except, no, that doesn't make sense. She's kissing you while you're carrying her to her bed. Misreading that seems impossible.

Your muscles are nearly giving out and it takes an effort of will (and body) to avoid dumping her on the mattress but you manage to set her down gently. There's nothing gentle about her frantic unbuttoning of your shirt and, eventually, jeans, though. And, moments later you're down to your boxers.

"I seem to be ahead here," you point out.

"Whose fault is that?"

Okay, that definitely sounds like an invitation.

Tempting though it is to go straight for the main prize, you decide to start with her top.

She shivers as you tug the top over her head... and keep tugging. Her long-long-long blond hair seems to keep flowing as you strip her.

"That's a little embarrassing," she whispers.

"Your hair is beautiful," you say.

"You like it?"

"I'm a guy, aren't I? Of course I like it."

You toss the finally freed top on a nightstand and admire her body.

Her tits aren't huge... probably a B cup, but they're perky and they look proportionate to her slender body. Her hair spills all over the mattress, and she's smiling at you.

"Now we're even," she says.

"You still have your pants on."

"One garment each. That sounds even to me."

You're certainly not going to argue with that logic, even as your dick presses a ridge in your boxers. You'd been sure she was wearing a thong under the pants... could she have lost it sometime during dinner?

She grabs your cock through the fabric of your boxers and gives it a squeeze. "Oooh, you are packing, Mike."

You've watched enough porn to realize you don't have porn-sized equipment but if Crystal is happy with what you've got, you're happy, too.

You kiss her again, then run your fingers up her belly, finally stroking her breasts.

"Oooh." Her body goes up in goosebumps.

"What do you say we lose that last garment each." Your voice is a growl.

"Sounds brilliant," she says.