A week later I invited her to my apartment, promising I would cook for her. She eagerly accepted and we arranged to meet at Central World Food Hall an... then head straight to mine. As I tidied my apartment, my anticipation was at boiling point. My patience had expired and I knew it was a critical day, if our relationship was to become one worthy of the name, rather than friendship, it had to mean sexual contact. We were officially dating, our kissing had become driven by lust, I had sucked her. My fingers had been just itching to sneak down the waistband of my skirt and fondly fondle my clit. But I am not a quiet masturbater, and if I wanted to remain unnoticed, I had to wait. And now, finally, I had time. I sat down in front of my computer and pulled up a sex story. As I began to read, I finally, finally, slipped hand into my skirt. I didn't let myself touch my clit, not yet. But I squeezed my pussy's lips, softly, gently. A few short hairs tickled my fingers, and a slight wetness. More

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