I guess I didn’t know what I expected when I kiss her for the first time. Her lips were soft, breath warm on my own mouth. But that wasn’t any different from any of them men I’d kissed before; although, I wouldn’t complain about the lack of stubble. But what was really different was the taste. Her lipstick had just a hint of sweetness mixed with the waxy base. It was what I imagined kissing my own self would be like, and I liked it.

Still, she felt so much more than me. While I had felt like a new woman when I’d walked out of the house in my dress, a bright blue-with-polka-dots pinup number, the flared skirt and petticoat beneath it were like a princess, almost juvenile. In comparison, her curve-hugging dress and bold red lips reminded me of Audrey Hepburn. She was every bit a woman. She owned it.

And I couldn’t have been more aware of it. I was spellbound as she reached to a zipper hidden in the center of her dress, pulling it up to the waistband. The materially suddenly loosened around her hips. Somehow she still looked elegant as fuck.

I felt a twinge of self-consciousness as her svelte leg pushed between mine, her hands pushing aside layers of tulle. It all seemed so silly now. Why had I worn a petticoat, anyway? Her lean frame seemed to dwarf my own, short and with a few extra pounds. I instinctively leaned back as she bent down to kiss me, wedging her thigh firmly between mine.

The grill of the van I found myself leaning on for support dug into my back, and I could feel the metal, cold against the bare of my arms and even through the back of my dress. It wasn’t unwelcome, however. It felt so real. It grounded me.

Nothing about this felt real. I hadn’t had a single drink, yet I couldn’t seem to get my bearings. I had lost complete control. It was all surreal.

It was all amazing. Her lips continued to press against mine, her tongue, as lithe and long as her body, probing my mouth. I did the best I could to respond with as little awkwardness as possible, but I was positive kissing wasn’t my strong suit.

The only part of my body I wasn’t second guessing? My hips. I rocked them forward and back, grinding my vulva against her leg, trying to shift my panties to the side so I could feel her skin, porcelain and softer than her lips, I was sure.

This movement elicited soft moans from my lips, against hers. She laughed. Oh, her laugh! The epitome of femininity. I’d been with many people who were silent and rigid during sex. She managed to be amused, a twinkle in her eye, rigid and soft all at once. I was, for that moment in time, in love like I’d never been before.

In a moment of boldness, I slid my hands up her sides, feeling the satin of her dress beneath my fingertips. My hands reached the swell of her breasts, and I found myself nearly clawing through the dress and the bra she wore beneath it to feel the weight, the softness of her flesh. I slipped one hand beneath her bra, a barely-there lace cup indicating her breasts were as close to perfect as nature allowed, to graze her breasts.

It this was a woman felt like? My god, why hadn’t I been doing this all along?

She chuckled. That laugh again. It was like a drug in my veins. It sent a shiver down my spine as if my nipples could get any tighter.

“So you’re finally brave enough to taste what’s been thrown at you?” she taunted in response to my wandering hands. I blushed. She removed her thigh from between my legs, and my hips gyrated around nothing until I had time to process. We had intertwined so perfectly. My clit nearly ached at the sudden loss. All I wanted was to ride her leg until I came.

Just as quickly, she pulled my hand from her bra. I worried, for a brief moment, that my heavenly experience was over nearly as quickly as it began. But she pulled me toward the side of the van, opening the passenger and crawling over the seat to the back. I knew I was to follow. I clambered behind her, a sight to see in my many layers, I’m sure.

Once inside, she pushed me back against the driver’s side wall. The front door remained open, providing a shaft of light that allowed us to see, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she reached beneath my skirt and yanked down the petticoat that had been separating us all day. My panties followed, being flung on the floor of some stranger’s van. It didn’t even cross my mind that we might get in trouble for what we were doing.

She traced invisible lines down my thigh with her nails, but these weren’t the fake, manicured tips you see in porn. They were nearly shaped and painted to a shine, but no longer than the tips of her fingers. This was a woman, I surmised, who was frequently wrist-deep in other women.

Perfectly polished and thin, those fingers snaked their way between my legs, parting my folds of skin and penetrating my cunt with and expert touch that every man I’d ever been with had lacked. Her fingers curled around my pubic bone, targeting my G-spot like a missile while her hand bent at the wrist.

Free of my frilly bonds, I wrapped my legs around her waist and her hand between my cunt and her thigh, so I could return to my grinding. A matter of minutes had passed since we’d moved into the back of the van, but it felt as though time had slowed.

She caressed and cajoled, curling her fingers back and forth, and pressing them against my G-spot. She seemed to know when I needed more pressure. None of my male partners had picked up on that before, and it took me far longer to realize than I’d like to admit.

I seemed to melt with the heat of her body. I wasn’t sure where the upholstery beneath me began. My dress splayed out around me like I had become liquid.

I was too enthralled with her motions to enjoy her body further, but she wasn’t done with mine. With her free hand, she reached back to untie the bow that secured my halter and pulled it down in front. I assisted by pushing the cups of my strapless bra down so my breasts spilled out above them. She tweaked and pinched my nipple, maneuvering her body so she could lean down.

Her tongue danced across my skin, sending a jolt like lightning through my body. The hand buried inside my worked diligently, and I felt the pressure building. Orgasm was imminent, even though her tactics were so different from my own.

I ground my clit against her hand, having found the heel of her palm, while she tugged at my nipple with her teeth. The combination of pain and pleasure sent me over the edge, my muscles contracting around her fingers and breath coming in short, rapid bursts. She knew, too, to withdraw from my over-sensitive clit as my orgasm subsided. She was a professional.

I assumed she was done, but I was wrong. With a surprising show of force, she grasped my thighs and pulled me down the seat so I was laying flat. With grace I couldn’t have mustered had I had all the space in the world, she lifted the bottom of her dress to her hips and shimmied from her underwear – a lacy thong that most certainly would match the bra.

The seat shifted beneath me as she joined me on it, positioning her knees to either side of my head. There was barely light to see to begin with, but my world was engulfed in black as she lowered her cunt to my lips.

My other senses immediately took over. Her musky scent, similar but not identical to mine, filled my nostrils. I could feel the heat from between her legs against my face, and a short tuft of hair tickled my nose.

I had never performed cunnilingus before; although, I had thought about it on many occasions. My first react was to taste every bit of her. I traced my tongue from her perineum along the length of one of her lips to the vertex, and back down again. I lapped the flat of my tongue over her vulva, passing the entrance to her vagina and barely grazing her clit, as hard as mine had been just moments ago.

Then, I curled my tongue to a point, swirling it around her clit, causing her to produce a delicious gasp. It was the first time she sounded not entirely in control. I quickly darted my tongue as far into her cunt as I could reach – not far due to its limited length – and traced the opening.

I savored the smell. The smoothness and folds of flesh. The slickness. The hard nub of her clit. The softness of her pubic hair. I wanted to experience her so fully that I would use her up. So I wrapped my arms around her thighs and buried my face as deeply into her as I could.

My mouth kissed and suckled at any part of her flesh it could reach, my tongue running up and down and side to side over her clit. There wasn’t a single area between her legs left untouched by my saliva. And went I felt sated enough to focus on her needs, I listened acutely for gasps and moans, repeating the motions that had her grinding against my own face and moving closer to a loss of control.

The way it felt as her thighs and cunt began to tense mirrored my own pre-orgasm, but it was never something I’d had the chance to experience before. It felt rewarding to my very core to experience such feedback. I pressed on, licking and lapping. My own moans were muffled by the body straddling my face.

I stretched my tongue as far as it would go, straining to penetrate her deeper, to lick her further, to have her in my mouth in a way that I knew to be impossible, but it felt inevitable if I would simply refuse to surrender.

My jaw hurt as her thighs squeezed inward, and my scalp tingled as she tugged a handful of hair sharply. She was going to cum. I was making her cum.

And there it was. Beautiful. Majestic. Uninhibited. Her muscles spasming the way mine always did when I was at the point of no return. Her cries of pleasure absorbed by the plush lining of the van’s walls. The passenger door still stood open. I thought I heard mumbled voices passing by. It didn’t matter.

All that matter was this beautiful woman, a picture of grace, was sitting on my face. And I had just given her an orgasm. I breathed heavily and let the back of my head drop to the seat beneath me. I hadn’t even realized I had lifted myself so far up. My arms felt sore with the intensity that I had held her thighs.

My mind, assured that the end of our rendez-vous was soon over, began processing what had happened rather than what was happening. This beautiful woman, who just so happened to be attending the same pinup fundraiser that I had so boldly decided to dress up for, had approached me. My stomach had tightened anxiously the way it does when I meet strangers. And she was so perfect.

I hadn’t realized then that her entire story was a facade. She’d not forgotten her lipstick in her car. She didn’t need company to the parking lot to retrieve it. She had simply wanted to get me alone, so she could push me up against some stranger’s van and be the first woman who had ever kissed me with an open mouth.

Just like I hadn’t seen that coming, I wasn’t anticipating her to bark a command.

“On your hands and knees!” Her voice and tone were clear as she removed her body from above mine, kneeling half on the floor on the seat behind me. I sat up, awkwardly getting on hands and knees, facing the open door, light cascading against my skin.

The top of my dress hung below me, breasts bouncing free of my bra. From behind me, she pushed the bottom up around my back, willing the fabric into place. Her hands pushed my knees as far apart as they could go on the narrow seat. It seems she was about to return the favor.

I felt her fingers part my nether lips with skill, her tongue lapped at my clit. I wasn’t normally a fan of receiving oral from this angle, but I wasn’t about to complain. She nipped at my lips with her teeth. I suddenly felt relieved to have shaved them clean. But her lips and tongue soon returned to my clit. I was almost giddy with anticipation.

It took me by surprise when she began playing with my ass. The pad of her finger traced my puckered asshole, pressed against it. Immediately, I felt enveloped in sensation, as if it were coming from every angle. I groaned. Oh! How had she known?

Anal play had always done it for me. Just a little felt so good. I’d had an ex lover who always pressed just the tip of his thumb into my asshole as I rode him. It drove me wild, fucking him faster and harder until we both came.

I wasn’t far from that point, already with an orgasm under my belt. I leaned back as much as I could, her finger slipping further inside me. I craved to make contact and to grind myself against her pretty face, but she wouldn’t let me.

She stayed just far enough away to drive me crazy. My moans had never been delicate, but they turned low and guttural. I was going to cum again.

“Ho-ly shit.” A man’s voice broke through my thoughts. I froze and looked up. My body was tense, my mouth frozen open as a moan silently escaped my lips. A stranger imitating James Dean watched us through the open door. His slicked-back hair was falling forward across his forehead, and his attire seemed cheap and modern in contrast to the classic hunk. I suddenly remembered where we were, who I was and that we weren’t supposed to be doing what we were doing.

My pussy didn’t seem to get the message, though. It betrayed me as it shuddered against her mouth. Breath hissed from my mouth and I retained enough control not to make a sound, but my arms collapsed beneath me and I felt onto the velvety-seat below me as the last waves of my orgasm rippled through my body.

If she was surprised by the man who was watching us, she made no move or comment to indicate as such. Instead, she reached for her shoes and bag to return them to their rightful place on her body. She opened the opposite door in the back of the van to exit so she wouldn’t have to walk past the man who had become our audience.

She stepped out of the van, one long leg bending at the knee to reach the ground. After both feet rested on the ground, she reached to effortlessly zip her dress once more. I watched the fabric hug the curves of her swaying hips as she walked back toward the party, nary a hair out of place. There was no sign of what we had just done. I was yet again scrambling after this picture of perfection.

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