Managing Expectations – Her POV

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A first meeting after much anticipation, told from her PoV.
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This is a follow up to the story Managing Expectations, written posted earlier by Gurgi. I am the woman in the story - and this is my side of the fantasy. In two weeks' time we will meet after months of teasing, texting, sharing photos and fantasies. These two stories was a game we played imagining our first meeting.

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Standing in that hallway, drenched with water dripping onto the floor beneath us, I suddenly feel exposed. Far more nervous than I expected. This is what I've been waiting months for. You are here in front of me, finally, but I'm a soaked mess. I wanted to be so much more for you. I avert my eyes. I feel goosebumps come on, and I know they aren't only from the rain. They are from this moment, the expectation, the nerves, the excitement. A perfect storm of jitters.

I remember the words you've sent me from across the ocean... The phone calls and chats, the pictures and confessions we've shared. But now, standing outside the door to the apartment rental, I'm anxious for our first kiss. I want to feel your lips on mine. Your hands exploring my body, curves and lines you've only seen in pictures and on chat screens up until now. I've played with myself and come thinking of you, whispering your name countless times. I've drifted to sleep at night imagining your arms around me.

It had all felt so real, until your very real self stood there in front of me. Now that all seemed like a child's game. A tease even. Television highlight reels and magazine clippings. My yearning to feel your body against mine, to feel your breath on my skin as it quickens, to feel you inside of me, it grows stronger as you fumble with the keys.

I look down, not wanting you to see my desires. Not yet. What if you've changed your mind?

I'd made such plans in my head, while months went by and my expectations grew. I knew what outfit I'd wear, exactly how my makeup would look, the way my hair would set. I had practiced all I'd say, all I'd do. I'd be the ultimate—the very best of me for you.

When you told me you were coming to New York, my heart raced. I knew your schedule would be demanding and I might not even get to see you. Oh how devastating that would have been! To be so close, and to not get even a glimpse of you. So I tried to not get my hopes up. I made no plans.

I was in the middle of three things when I received your text. Laundry, writing a piece on women in technology, and fiddling with a new programming language. Butterflies hit my stomach flying at lightspeed. My mind raced. I closed my laptop, tossed my training books to the side, and decided the laundry could sort itself. A phone call or two made, and the arrangements for the kids were set. I was free to meet you. As I showered, my brain went from imagining what it would be like to see you, what our time would entail, and how I was going to make it to the train on time.

I put together an outfit I thought you'd like. I'd always imagined I'd have so much longer to choose the perfect pieces for you. The one I'd thought of weeks earlier was suddenly nowhere to be found. I took a breath, it was all going to be okay. After pulling up my skirt, careful to obey and leave all my panties at home, I glimpsed at my phone. I wasn't going to have time for much more primping. I quickly pulled my hair up, choosing the ribbon I'd picked out earlier that week. It had been sitting on my night table. Thinking of whipping the ribbon off my hair and covering your eyes in one smooth step, feeling tingles as I fantasized further on my turn as the dominant one.

I quickly smoothed some foundation on my face, a quick passover of champagne-colored eye shadow, a sweep of mascara and lipgloss, and I was running down the stairs. I was sure I was not going to make the train.

Cursing every car in front of me on the highway, taking inventory of what I'd packed. Lube. Tape. A paint stirrer. My toys. Deodorant. Shirt. I was certain I forgot at least one thing. I wasn't sure of your schedule, or what you wanted. I didn't want to assume, so I chose my largest purse instead of my weekender bag.

I pulled into the parking lot, hearing the train in the distant. I scurried to pay for the parking and purchase my ticket. As I pulled my receipt out of the machine, the train pulled into the station. I cannot believe I made the train. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, I took out a tissue to wipe them. I took a deep breath. I had to remind myself to relax. I wish I'd brought my water bottle. My bottle pulsed. As stressed as I felt at the moment, I was surprisingly aroused as well.

There was no going back now. I was actually going to meet up with you. Though I knew nothing of what was to come after that moment. I knew what I'd hoped and what I'd fantasized about. But I also knew not to expect anything. We'd had a number of discussions on the challenges of fantasy meeting reality.

I listened to music that reminded me of you and played games on my phone on the train ride. I worked to control my breathing. I had to stay calm. I saw myself meeting you, walking up to you, wrapping my arms around you and kissing you. That seemed the thing to do. I was going to play it cool.

At least I thought so, until there I was, walking across Battery Park, scanning the crowd for you. As I walked, I was certain I somehow would not recognize you. Or you wouldn't be there. And then suddenly, I spotted you. I immediately felt a tingling between my legs. The closer I got, my brain went numb. That romantic kiss in the middle of the park suddenly seemed inappropriate. I decided a hug was best, and it seemed you came to the same conclusion.

I could feel the electricity the moment my body touched yours. I wondered if you felt it too. My nipples hardened the moment our bodies pressed together. I had to focus, rid my mind of the flashes of you that now consumed me. I was glad when you suggested some food. We fell into conversation immediately. My nerves calmed.

Perusing the bookstore, wandering around, I was curious if you were aware that my senses were in overload. In my head, I saw you pushing me up against the bookshelf, kissing me deeply, then lowering to your knees. Me, holding onto the shelf as I came. I'd shake my head and get back to picking up the random book and then again getting lost in a dirty thought. I wondered if you noticed my goosebumps. Feeling you close to me, it was almost too much. All at once, it felt so natural to reach out and touch you, kiss you, put my arm around you and yet it also seemed unacceptable, crossing a boundary I hadn't yet received permission to cross.

At MoMA, I was in a flurry of emotions. The thrill off this rendezvous, the pull of my heart that always comes with books and art, my passions flowing, and the joy of good company. When your hand reached for mine, a bolt of electricity surged through my entire body. Holding your hand, I kept wanting to pull you in closer. Aware we were in public, and my nerves still getting the best of me at times, I kept my desires to myself. I wanted to whisper naughty things into your ear as we stood and looked at a Picasso, to run my hand along your back in front of the massive Pollock, and to kiss your cheek in front of Starry Night.

I wondered as we strolled along, how wise it was for me not to wear panties. Feeling wetness along my thighs, relieved at least my skirt was black. I wondered if you knew all this. If you were torturing me with this extended date. That thought in turn only causing the throbbing between my legs to deepen.

I tried to be interested in the Macbooks and iPhones at the Apple store. But all I could think of was us leaving and my hope that our next destination would be your place. I wanted privacy, to get permission to do these things I'd spent all day yearning for. All at once, the crowds felt suffocating. I searched your face for a sign. If only reading your face was as easy as reading the dirty texts you'd been sending me for months. I didn't want to assume. We'd always said, "no expectations."

The park felt more intimate, and I was glad when we escaped into the quiet of greenery. I felt more daring. Eye contact. Crooked smiles. Flirting. My touches, until this time seeming accidental, casual. Now, with purpose. Each time I connected with you, the surge inside my would get stronger. Just as I was feeling fiery enough to make a real move, the sky opened up and rain tore down on us.

I giggled. What else could I do? And of course! Of course I was wearing an nearly see-through blouse without the help of rain. I always have a sweater on me. Not today. Not an umbrella, nothing. The laughing over this ridiculous situation eased so much of my concern and nerves from earlier.

The rain, its wetness covering me, only further fueled my want. Then I heard the words I'd longed for. Your invite to head to the apartment led to more butterflies. More wetness, and not just from the rain.

Sheltered from the storm, and just in time before the rumble of thunder could be heard outside the apartment, we stood there. Exhale, again. I fiddled with my hair in the mirror, sighing over the best laid plans.

You startle me as you order, "Strip!"

So this is it. This is what I've been waiting for. I'm delighted. And scared. This is real. I pull off my wet shirt and bra as I hear the water running from the bathroom. A bath? How perfect, I think. Unsure, but curious, I enter the bathroom. I catch a glimpse, and realize you have undressed. I peel off my soaking skirt, my eyes wandering up your legs as I do.

Mmm. Your cock. I've seen it time and again in photos, I can summon it in my mind. I lick my lips, instinctively. I want to touch and caress and lick your cock. I want to know it as well in its physical form as I've come to know it virtually. I consider getting on my knees to serve you. Just as I work up the nerve, you order me into the bath.

The warm water is the most welcome feeling, that is until your hands find their way to my body. My body relaxes under your firm hands, as you knead and rub, gently caress and teasingly scratch your way across my body. Your fingers, getting close to my most sensitive parts, then pulling away before touching them. I ache for you. You are aware of this.

I feel your hands rubbing the inside of my thighs. I want you inside of me. Your hands, your cock, anything, I need to feel that. The throbbing is nearly painful at this point. You pull away, and a frustrated breath escapes my mouth.

"I want you to cleanse me in return. I want you prostrate, kneeling in front of me. I'll allow you to touch any part of my body that pleases you... except my cock."

I swallow and try to hide my disappointment. I'm happy enough to be in this space with you, and to be touching your body. I love this chance to care for you. Whatever boundaries I was running into earlier in the day seemed to have disappeared. The only ones that remain are the ones you put in place as a part of our role play. These boundaries excite me.

I start with your feet. Rubbing the stress of work and travel from you, I continue to massage up your calves, then run my nails down your thighs. I'll return there a moment later. I take your left hand, then your right, rubbing both of them and seeing your relax. I massage from the shoulders down your forearm. Then with my nails, I run my hands up to your neck. Both of my hands around your neck, working my thumbs to work out any tightness. I love seeing you in front of me, examining and familiarizing myself with your entire body. I run my hands along your chest, down to your hips, nearer and nearer to your cock. I know I have to behave.

Outside of the tub, I dry myself a bit and wrap the towel around me. I hear music outside the door. I walk out into the living room, thankful for the glass of water you hand me. You ask why I'm wearing the towel. Not wanting to disappoint, I quickly let the towel drop to my feet. I take a sip of the water.

"Is this better?" I smile, feeling more frisky now. You don't respond. I watch as you walk over to the couch and sit down, keeping your eyes locked on me. I look down, smile fading, wondering what I should do next. I take another sip, then play with my hair, anervous habit, as I try to suppress a giggle. I wish the towel was covering me up. My nipples look twice as large as normal, and I am not sure if the wetness slowly dripping down my thigh is from the bath or from my anticipation.

"I expected more of you."

The words hurt.

"I expected you to manage our expectations of this meeting better. We've spent hours together. I am well-mannered, but my patience is not unlimited. Where I come from it is up to the female to make it clear that sex is in the works. I've been waiting... but now I ask bluntly. Do you wanna fuck?"

"Yes, of course!" If you only knew, just how badly!

"It's yes sir." Your reply sends a pulse from my nipples to my pussy.

"Yes, sir, of course I want to fuck you."

"Since when?"

"Since the moment I laid eyes on you, sir."

"So why haven´t you told me or shown me of this sexual interest?"

"I didn't want to come off as slutty."

"Slutty, sir!"

"I didn't want to come of as slutty, sir."

"But you are a slut, right?"

"Yes sir! I am a slut."

"In what way? Tell me."

"Sir, I came wearing no panties, and all afternoon, especially when you've come close I've been so horny, creaming myself, trying to stay concentrated on our conversation, but all the while feeling my thighs get wetter, all the while thinking about your cock, and if you would let me play with it."

"And do you think I will let you?"

"I hoped sir, but now I am resigning myself to the fact that I made you disappointed in me. Please let me make it up to you, sir."

"We'll see, little one. But first we need to take care of your discipline. Let's see: One, hiding your sluttishness. Two, wrapping your nudity in a towel. Three, forgetting to address me correctly - twice..."

"I..."

"Did I address you? Ask you anything? Give you leave to speak?"

"No sir."

"So shut up and let me think!"

"..." My mind was flustered. Excited. Anxious. This was really happening.

"Here's the deal. Search the apartment. Find something to tie you up with and something that I can use for disciplining you. Make sure it is something that is appropriate for your misdemeanor, or I will get my belt instead. You've got five minutes until I want you on the bed, ready to be punished."

I quickly move, though dizzy with desire. Spoken words have never turned me on so much. I search the apartment, nervous I will not please you. How does one search a stranger's apartment? Anxious I would disappoint you, I frantically open drawers. Finally finding ties and belts. I grab some ties and one belt. I don't want to encourage you too much. I carefully place the required materials on the bed and lay down on the bed, waiting for you. Each second that passes I feel more hungry for your touch.

You enter the room, and begin limb by limb, to tie me to the bedposts. Spread on the bed before you, I follow you as you leave the room. I wonder how long you'll leave me here. I wonder if you'll pleasure me or go straight to whipping. I wonder how your cock will feel once it is inside me.

"You really are a slut," I hear you say. "Look what I found in your bag."

My nipple clamps and lube. I brought all the things I know you would put to use. You blindfold me, and with that, I feel free. All my concerns of what I look like and if it's pleasing disappear. Being disoriented is all at once terrifying and a major turn-on. I feel you get on the bed, then suddenly the belt hits my stomach. Small and slow, careful pats evolve into harder, firmer slaps. When you stop, I yearn for more. My whole body wants to feel you, in any manner and with any object.

"What do you need, slut?"

"I need to be punished for not managing your expectations, sir."

Crack! You slap the belt down on my right breast. The strikes alternate between my breasts, back and forth. Crack, crack, again and again. Some land on my nipple, others tease near to it. Each time the belt connects with my body, I scream louder. You move down to my stomach and my thighs. I squirm, losing my mind. Wanting more. Wanting all of you.

"That's five."

I feel your hands on me. I wonder if you can see the gush of my juices flowing out from my pussy as you do. Up my thighs, you work up to the small tuft of hair. Your hands so close to my throbbing pussy. I wriggle beneath you and sigh. You hand dips lower, feeling the wetness on my lips. I silently beg for your fingers to find their way inside me. I shudder.

Crack, crack, crack...

Startled by the strikes of the belt on my thigh, I gasp. I squirm, wishing the ties would break loose. You land another three strikes on my thigh. Then I feel your fingers deep inside me, feeling them enter repeatedly, as pressure on my clit causes my entire body to shiver. I moan, again trying to be free of the ties. My breath is rapid, I'm about to come.

Then quickly, your hand is gone. The belt lands in the exact spot your hand just was. The shock of the sensation the crack of the belt has made. How good it feels. I let out a sound I'm not sure I've heard myself make before. I want more of this. Again. Your belt meets the same spot. Harder. The sound of my wetness as it meets your belt is followed by my cry. Tears are running down my cheek. There is pain. There is ecstasy. I want more. I am scared. I am thrilled. I am feeling so many emotions.

"That's ten!" You say. "Do you think you can remember how to be a good slut now?"

"I think so, sir?"

"Think, huh, you only think... I guess that means you need a little bit more discipline before I can trust you with my cock."

Silence.

I let out a deep, slow breath. Relieved and frustrated. I wonder what you are going to do next. My mind moves to your cock again. To the bathroom, first seeing it in person. Then in the tub, my hands so close to your cock. Thinking of your fingers inside me, how good it felt. Wanting to come as you did.

More silence.

I know I can't squirm. I can't tighten my pussy for fear of exciting myself too much. I want to be good for you. I hear a bottle cap open. Then the lube dripping on my breasts. I tighten up, I can't help it. I feel your thumbs on them now, massaging and caressing, my nipples harden even further. I feel the cold and hard clamp tighten on my nipples. Instantly feeling more wetness below, biting my lip and wanting to break free of these ties.

Silence again.

My body pulsates, excited for what is to come.

Then you leave. I know you do this to drive me more wild. It works. My attempts to aid my predicament all fail. Finally you return. You touch the clamps, attaching something. Then I realize, ah, weights of some sort. They tug further on my nipples. You are destroying me. I let out small sigh. I feel you pull on a tie, and the sound of scissors. Each one, cut, one by one. I am free. Well, not really.

"Turn around, it is time for your backside to get some attention" I roll over, feeling the pull of the clamps.

"Hands and knees, butt in the air, slut! I've been wanting to take a closer look at that piece of glorious ass for ages."

I move immediately, ready for your inspection. The attachments on the clamps are weighted. At first the pain feels too intense. I groan at the sensation. But the pain becomes pleasure quickly. They are pulling at my nipples and all I can think of is your mouth nibbling on them. I carefully move my body to keep the sensation going, hoping you don't notice.

"So, I've measured up your need for discipline while I was having coffee. We're ten strokes short. I also realized you do not know what is best for you, so I took it upon myself to decide that it is your backside that needs my attention. However, I'll let the slut decide one thing for herself. Do you want me to start on the left or the right buttock, slut?"

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