Caffeine and Miss Forgetful

Pooja eventually returned, dressed in black leggings and a denim skirt, with a nice tight V-neck maroon sweater above that showed a little of her modest cleavage. The Princess Leia vest was added and we were off.

The day was cool but sunny and idyllic, and we had fun flirting and holding hands amongst the old barns and steel warehouses filled with mostly crap, but we ran across a few interesting things for the apartment that ended up in the back of my SUV.

At our last stop, Pooja and I shared a delicious roadside stand apple, standing under a large, bare tree. The sun was low in the western sky, about to drop behind the uppermost Blue Ridge mountains. Her eyes were especially bright and reflected the fire of the sunset. After I wiped a bit of juice from her chin, I spontaneously kissed this exotic and mysterious girl. She responded sweetly, but the innocent kiss quickly turned long, deep, wet, and probing as we held each other tightly. She looked at me with joy but then lowered her brow slightly with a hint of mistrust as I pulled away, grinning. "Don't push her,' I kept telling myself.

Once we arrived back at her house, and after a salad at a nearby café, we both fell asleep, cuddling on the living room sofa after the long day. I guessed I overdid it as I awoke and saw local news was on TV. Pooja was shaking me awake, and she had already put on pajamas, a lightweight ivory-colored thermal top and bottom beneath a robe, left mostly open to tease me with her quivering, braless breasts.

She had already removed her makeup and put some kind of white cream under her eyes, I guess to drive home her point that the date was over. She was still beautiful. The sweet brunette politely sent me home, telling me what a good time she had, to call or text her soon, and giving me quick peck on the mouth as I staggered out the door, still groggy.

"I miss u already," I texted from the driveway before I even put the car in reverse.

I sent flowers to her at work Monday. She was an admin at a law office in Georgetown. I got an angry text from her not to send any more. To fend off the office wolves, she had told everyone she had an arranged marriage, and her fiancée was still in India. Later she said never mind, as the perceived infidelity and defiance of the archaic tradition made her look like kind of a badass among the other women staffers.

A week of flirtatious texts, calls, and pics, a couple even PG-rated, followed. I managed to get a topless, smiling bathroom mirror nose-to-navel selfie, an arm covering her tits, and another of her bare back, even showing a little ass crack. I edited them together and made them the wallpaper on my home laptop, although it made my urge to jerk off even worse.

Apparently our electronic flirtation was more adventurous than our actual dates. Our next outing, her idea, was a daylight one as well, on a Sunday, indoors out of the December cold at the Smithsonian. I had lived in D.C. two years but had never done many touristy things here on weekends, going home to Delaware most of the time. I noticed a trend in Pooja's clothes, always a skirt and leggings or long sweaters or flowing tunics over jeans, not that I minded any of it; she looked terrific in everything. I couldn't wait for the skimpier clothes of summer, I thought, optimistically assuming we would still be dating. I did get a smiley face from her when I mentioned 'halter top season' in a text.

Our second date ended much as the first, except there was no sleeping and quite a bit more making out on the sofa while an old black and white movie flashed across the screen in the darkened room. Tongues sliding, dueling, exploring, jaws open; I could kiss this girl or gaze into her eyes for hours. I was hoping to advance things a bit further, but her cousin's girlfriend was in the basement, cursing and slamming stuff around while she did laundry, so it wasn't quite a private, romantic setting. To add to my insanity, Pooja teasingly unhooked and slid her bra out from under her sweater right in front of me as she again politely sent me home.

Monday and Tuesday nights brought a few additional risqué, bare-hipped selfie side shots with critical areas barely covered, and included a Santa hat, since it was now December. She mentioned a girls' night out with her coworkers the following night.

About ten-thirty that Wednesday night, I had just fallen into bed and got a call from a drunken-sounding Pooja.

"Trent, can you pleeeeease come and get me?"

I protectively panicked, thinking about her out there somewhere alone and drunk. I tried to be as patient as possible, to make sure I could pinpoint exactly where she was.

"Yes, of course. Where are you?"

"The bookstore."

"Which bookstore?" I didn't think any would be open this late, except adult bookstores. I just couldn't picture her at one of those.

"First National Bean, you know, Dex's bookstore, where we met?"

Then it clicked. I had seen blonde Sadie and her spider web-tattooed cleavage before, at the coffee shop, which Pooja's cousin evidently owned. It explained the boxes and stacks of books all over their house as well. I was surprised I hadn't made the connection before.

I learned that Pooja was fine and safely locked inside alone. She had keys her cousin had given her if she got stuck downtown 'again'.

Outside my car, the downpour sizzled, belying its near-freezing temperature. Scant late night traffic and the stop lights cooperated, and I was pulling into an 'employees only' spot behind the store within fifteen minutes.

I pounded on the back door, but no answer. I jogged around to the main entrance, soaked, and pummeled the thick glass door, hoping she wasn't so wasted she had passed out. Pooja finally appeared inside the darkened store and deactivated the alarm after a couple tries, and let me in. The petite, raven-haired beauty was still dressed from work that day, wearing a simple white blouse and blue above-the-knee skirt, which I would wager had a matching jacket somewhere nearby, and black hose and pumps.

"My hero!" She wrapped her arms around me, and kissed me with tequila-flavored lips. She recoiled quickly, however. "Ugh, you're all wet!" she said, her eyelids a little low.

The water from my jacket had rendered patches of her white blouse transparent, nicely giving more clarity to the lace pattern of the bra beneath.

"Uh yeah, its raining!" I said, happy to see her. "What happened?"

"I was at a bridal shower for a girl at work," Pooja said, slurring a little, "and I was going to come by your apartment and surprise you. Evan thought it would be okay..." She leaned against a book display tower that almost fell over before I grabbed it. "but I forgot your address and my phone was dead, so I came here to charge it and pee, and then I got an id-eaaa," she said, grinned at me, then reached back to unzip her skirt and ran off out of sight in between the shelves. I had expected to be taking a shit-faced girl home to Maryland, but it looked like I was wrong. Quiet music from one of the satellite radio jazz stations suddenly drifted through the air.

This former downtown bank had large, arched, factory-like windows between its square marble columns. The interior was now was surreal, lit only by the streetlights and a random patterns of car headlights from outside, filtering through the rain and the gaps in the bookshelves. It almost felt like I was in a large aquarium.

"You don't wanna to go home?" I called out, making sure I wasn't misreading anything, now forced into a game of hide and seek.

"No!" She answered from somewhere across the room. "Take off your clothes, Trent, and come to me!"

I had only worn drawstring pants and a sloppy sweatshirt, so I was down to my boxers in seconds. It was a bit cool in the building but I thought about the beautiful, possibly naked girl out there who wanted sex of some kind, and my cock expanded. "Where are you?" I expected her to jump out at me as I pulled it out and stroked myself a little.

"Where do you think, Mister Nosey?" she replied.

Duh, of course, the sofa where we first met! I turned the corner, and there was Pooja, or rather Pooja's beautiful bare ass as she knelt on the carpeted floor. She was bent over, facing the cushions on which she had taken a seat the morning my life changed forever.

She was naked from the waist down, except for the sheer black thigh-high stockings that covered her from foot to almost her jiggling cheeks. Her skirt and black panties had been tossed to the other end of the couch. There were some things on the floor by her toes, next to her empty shoes: a fresh tube of KY and some brown paper towels. Damn! I kept expecting to wake up as if I was in a dream.

"Make love to me Trent!" She was squirming her hips around, butt quivering, trying to corral her slightly damp hair.

Stupid ass me gave her an out. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I was surprised at this breach in etiquette, usually you have to at least visit a woman's breasts before getting to this point, not to mention the skipped oral activities. But again, this was new territory for me.

"Yes! Why are you being such an idiot? I'm surrendering myself to you!" Pooja replied in that melodic accent. "I want to feel you inside me, here at the exact spot we first met."

She was right; I was being an idiot. .

"I don't want fingers first!" she demanded, "Penis only!"

Wasting no more time, I lost my boxers and dropped to my knees, stroking my kind-of-thick six inches to ensure its solidity, and lubed it until it glistened in the dim light. Her beautiful ass was fidgeting with excitement. I thought about tasting her orifice, but that may preclude her from kissing later, and I had already been given my agenda.

In between her quivering cheeks, in the midst of a vertical trail of scattered black hair, lit by a stationary car headlight, I saw her perfect dark brown hole, which seemed quite peaceful, as if it had no idea what was about to befall it.

4

Fingers tightly gripping the edges of the rigid leather couch cushions, Pooja cried out a long, varied, echoing wail that seemed to indicate both pleasure and discomfort as my dick began to spread her sphincter. Her following inhalation was just as loud, strained and ambiguous. I was gentle as possible, unaware of how much penetration she had previously taken and could take now. None? Years of fat dildos? A prior boyfriend? I knew so frustrating little about her, but as my dick sunk out of sight I was sure of one thing: Her rectum was wonderfully warm and tight. My cock had never entered an anus before, and I moaned loudly as my shaft felt her body rejecting me, trying to push me back out. This was a one-way waste canal, not a playground for reproductive organs, it seemed to be stressing with its involuntary spasms. It was unaware that the harder it pushed, the better it felt on my throbbing meat. Her rectum's expulsive efforts had of course been in vain, and my dick began its next inward trip, the second of what I hoped would eventually be hundreds of thousands. I was crazy about this exotic girl.

After a couple dozen easy strokes, her vocals were still random but an octave higher and seemed to be more about the pleasure than the unnaturally expanded ring of muscles between her beautiful, quaking cheeks.

I couldn't believe I was fucking the girl I had hit on that morning weeks ago with the stunning eyes and smile, and at the spot I first laid eyes on her. Yes, there was quite a rare surprise in the midst this pursuit, but one I was, at my most sincere level, excited about. Her blouse was unbuttoned, and I ran my hands up and down her sides and finally felt her soft, wonderful breasts and their pliable, lumpy nipples, albeit through the lace cups of her bra, the rear straps of which I frequently gripped while leaning back a bit to adjust my entry angle.

Pooja's outcries grew quieter, almost rhythmic whimpers, but her breathing grew louder. Her words, temporarily lost to expressions of the sensations her body felt, returned to her after a few more minutes of me thrusting my hips to slide my ecstatic cock in and out of that tight hole. At first there was just some moaning babble, but finally a statement.

"Yes...Trent! Fuck me harder! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!"

As much as she used the 'f word' in normal conversation, it was nice to hear it in reference to us and actual sex in progress. She let go of her death grip on the sofa cushions and reached back to feel my hips as my pelvis collided with her, creating a slapping cadence.

"Trent...please...I want all your...sperm inside me!" she said a couple minutes later, sounding like she had run a marathon.

No problem there. I hated for it to end, but I couldn't hold back much longer. Soon I was jolting and grunting repeatedly and loudly as I pumped burst after great-feeling burst into her colon. It was the hottest fuck I ever had. I started to tell her, more poetically of course, but she spoke before me.

"That was the most...amazing feeling ever," she said out to the side, breathing heavily.

"Same here," was my lame response, but I recovered nicely, I thought. "This is like a dream. I can't believe I'm actually here with you," I half-whispered into her ear, caressing her shoulders.

I stayed inside her, pressed against her heaving, winded body while I caught my own breath and the last drops of my load trickled into her large intestine. Finally I peeled myself off, standing to go piss, but not before inspecting the damage I inflicted on her hole. Dripping with lube, it was gaping open, the once-pristine sepia rim was flinching and expanded beyond recognition. A transient auto headlight revealed her scarlet innards and tightened scrotum suspended below, quivering and smattered with trimmed, dark hair.

"Wash your genitals well, please," she said breathlessly, reaching back for the paper towels as I walked naked through the store. Its cool air felt good.

I returned smelling like restroom soap and grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge on top on the counter; shoplifting and sex in one night. Pooja, a bit shiny with perspiration, had not moved much, only back from the sofa far enough for me to sit on the couch in front of her. The brown paper towels were crumpled in a pile, I imagine where she had mopped up her hole. Upright but still on her knees, she had removed her white blouse and was holding it over her lap with one hand. The view of her mounded breasts in the diminutive lace bra, forming glistening, gentle cleavage below her gorgeous face was making blood flow to my dick once again.

But she had a strange expression, staring forward. "I didn't wish to demand you wash yourself off, presuming there would be more sex," she said in almost a trancelike state. "I've been told I can be overly bossy." Then she swallowed heavily, tears forming. Such an emotional girl. "I wanted to feel a man inside me, and so I have. If you wish to leave now, I will understand...I can get a taxi home. We can meet for encounters like this occasionally, at your discretion." tears were running down her cheeks. "If that is what you desire." It seemed her alcohol was wearing off.

She was giving me an out, but leaving the door open for booty calls. It was not something she was comfortable with, but would possibly settle for, just to see me. I was humbled and honored she apparently let me be her first fuck. As Pooja knelt on the floor in her lacy bra, sitting back on her thighs, holding the balled up blouse at her groin, she looked almost like a jilted bride holding her nosegay. It was time for me to make a vow, of sorts; the truth.

"Listen damn it," I said scolding, standing over her, looking down into her large brown eyes, their slight amber starburst magnified by the wetness and nearly glowing in the strange light. She began to scowl. I sat down on the edge of the sofa in front of her and firmly clutched the sides of her head and leaned forward, inches from her face. Looking straight into her eyes, I told her exactly how I felt.

"What I desire, is to have you for my girlfriend. One and only girlfriend. We will talk for hours but argue about where to eat. You will complain about what I wear. We will flirt and kiss and hold hands in public. We will sleep over and wake up with messy hair and bad breath." I said, caressing the sides of her face. "And we will suck and fuck until we nearly pass out. I don't deserve you, but that's what I want." A piano solo from the sound system echoed softly across the building.

Her breathing grew faster, as if she had some big refusal speech to give me, but I was wrong again.

"Oh Trent!" She leapt up like a gazelle into my arms, forcing me back onto the sofa cushions. Her body was pressed against me, and on my stomach it felt like she had a kielbasa behind her crumpled up white blouse. So much of her bare skin against mine felt wonderful.

She gathered her arms around my neck and gave me several pecks on the mouth in between her reply. "Trent...I've fallen...for you! I've...never...been so happy!" she said in that adorable accent. Her eyes and cheeks were wet, but she was smiling broadly, her white teeth nearly fluorescent in the dim light. "And guess what? Aside from the obvious difference, I'm going to be the worst girlfriend you ever had! I'll be demanding, stubborn, and scatterbrained, but I also want to suck and fuck until we pass out!"

I had no time to respond, as instantly her open lips and extended tongue were on the short journey to meet mine. Our kissing mouths were a bizarre combination of my mint toothpaste and her stale margaritas. We were moaning, panting and spastic, slinging saliva onto our cheeks as I reached down and pulled the white blouse from between us. A muffled protest emanated from her occupied mouth. I got to feel her stiff dick against me for only a moment as her hand slid quickly down to tuck it backwards between her thighs.

Our lips separated as she flung an arm around, trying to reach the balled up top as I held it just out of her reach and finally dropped it behind the couch. Next she reached for the dark blue skirt she had tossed onto the other end of the sofa, but I clutched her forearm. Her other hand was occupied with keeping her expanded dick back between her legs and out of sight. With a grunt of frustration she pulled away, spun around and stood, giving me a view of her nicely jiggling cheeks.

"Trent, I...I can't do this tonight..." she said overdramatically. Her fingers and polished nails rubbed the deltoid of the opposite arm pensively.

"Yes you can," I said. "You know I think you're perfect. All of you."

"Here, you can fuck me again, Trent!" She bent forward, still holding her dick out of my view, and pulled a cheek to the side. Her shiny dark hole had closed but was swollen like a tiny sepia bagel.

"Oh I will, but not yet. Now stop stalling. Face me. Keep your hands away." There was a long pause. If she still refused, I wasn't going to push her further to reveal herself tonight. My dick was rock hard again, just in anticipation of seeing hers, so I hoped her offer of another fuck was genuine.

"Well, okay," she said, sighing loudly. Pooja placed her hands on her hips, cocked them to one side with attitude like a runway model. She looked awesome with her small waist, beautiful ass, the deeper curve of her angled hip, the black stockings, and the bra still fastened across her back just below where her black hair fell. "Remember, you asked for it, Mister Nosey." It was nice to see her sexy confidence returning.

She spun around slowly, and in the low light I was greeted by a beautiful, dark brown penis, gloriously erect and pointed straight at my face, dancing with each heartbeat. Closely trimmed black pubes surrounded the base. The glossy, lighter brown, bulbous head, with its distinct underside cleft, was barely holding back the gathered, thick folds of the foreskin behind it. The silky, dark skin of its shaft bulged with a large, jagged vein along the top side. It looked to be slightly oversized for Pooja's petite frame, and I think it was actually a bit longer than mine. A tightened scrotum, also darker than her rich skin tone, graced the space beneath.