I met Cecilia when her grocery bag split on the stairs of our apartment building.

I’d seen her around, and I’d admired her long, dark hair and her toned legs. But I’d never said much. I’m more than a bit on the shy side. But it’s hard not to have a formal introduction after you’ve wrangled rolling oranges and cans of tuna.

“Jesus, thanks,” she said, taking the loot I’d managed to gather. “I ask for paper because it’s environmentally friendly, but it’s not so good at not splitting after getting damp in the rain.”

“You walked from the market?” I asked. “Because that bag wasn’t damp. It was soaked.”

She nodded. “Yeah, my car’s in the shop. It was only two bags, so I figured what the hell. Hey,” she paused at the door to her place. “Want to come in for a drink? My way of saying thanks. I’ve seen you around. You don’t seem like an axe murderer.”

I laughed, glancing down at my shredded fishnet stockings and my short black skirt. I made a show of examining my combat boots and my denim jacket. “Not really any place to hide an axe on me, ya know?”

“Exactly.” She grinned and nudged the door open with her hip. Then she waggled her eyebrows at me. “Well, come on then. I have wine, beer or harder stuff if you’d like.”

“Beer’s good,” I said. I followed her into her small apartment. The decor was funky but neat.

I followed her into the kitchenette, and she dumped her bags. Cecilia grabbed two beers and opened them. We clinked bottles. “To pretty girls who rescue my oranges and on-sale tuna fish.”

I blushed, feeling heat invade my cheeks in an instant. “No problem. Everyone needs to keep ahold of their on-sale tuna fish.”

“I’ve seen you running,” she said.

I blinked. “You have?”

“Yeah, a view of the track is right out my bedroom window. Come see.”

I followed her, unable to keep my gaze from drifting to her perfect ass in her tight jeans. I looked out and saw that she did indeed have a clear view of the track where I jog.

“I like the socks you wear.”

“No wonder you’ve seen me. They’re so bright, you could probably spot most of them from space,” I joked.

“I have to confess… I look for you,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“You do?”

“I like pretty girls in motion.” Cecilia grinned.

My face went from warm to hot.

“She licked my nipples, biting & tugging them until i was panting”

She sauntered back out to the kitchen. I followed. “You looked a bit nervous in there.”

“I… um… no… I’ve seen you, too,” I blurted. “I love your hair and…” I snapped my mouth shut. Stupid, stupid.

“And?” She moved closer. “Come on. Spill.”

“Your legs,” I said, looking away. shyly

“Ah, that makes me happy.”

She moved closer and tugged the end of my braid until I moved forward. Then she kissed me, the taste of pale ale on her lips and tongue. “Am I being forward?”

“Yes,” I said. “And I like it.”

“Good to know.”

When her hand traced the mangled pattern of my fishnets, I felt my pussy gush. This scene was turning out better than I’d ever thought possible. When I didn’t protest, she pushed her hand up beneath my skirt, stroking the gusset of my panties with a single finger and managing to hit my clit every single time. I sighed against her lips.

“Hop up on the counter.”

I didn’t protest. I just went with it. Who knew gathering spilled oranges could turn out this way?

She hiked up my skirt and tugged down my stockings and panties. I watched her as if this had never happened before. It had, but not this way. Never this way.

She looked at me with dark brown eyes and then lowered her head to lap at me. Her mouth was a hot force of nature as she licked me over and over again. I raised my hips, my hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard it bit into my palm. Her fingers plunged inside me.

I clenched my internal muscles around her driving fingers and tried to breathe as her tongue kept up its gentle attack, keeping me off balance and utterly on edge.

I wanted to climax, but I didn’t. I wanted the rush, but I didn’t want this moment to end.

She looked up. “Come for me.”

I was powerless to do anything but after her request. She went back to thrusting her fingers and lapping at my clit. I held on for only a few minutes and then I was coming — hard and fast, biting my lip to keep the sound at bay.

She stared at me and made a tsk-tsk sound. “Don’t hold it in,” she said. “Be as loud as your socks.”

She pushed my sweater up and leaned in to nuzzle my bare breasts. She licked my nipples, biting and tugging them until I was panting. My cunt flexed around nothing. I was ready. I wanted to try it again. And when she touched me, she knew.

“You went from wet to soaked. I like that. That’s good.”

She sucked my clit and then traced my outer lips with her tongue, making me wait for more contact where I wanted it most. This time, she pushed three digits into me. She nudged my G-spot, curling her fingers against the tender walls of my pussy. Her breath was hot, and she made these desperate little happy sounds; they turned me on so much, each one sending a burst of pleasure spiraling through me.

My nipples stayed hard and tender as I watched her. I tugged one, and then pinched it hard. The bite of pain augmented my pleasure. She blew on my clit, and then went to kissing my hips and my thighs, her fingers moving inside me roughly.

When I thought I’d weep, she finally returned to my clit. She nipped it lightly with her teeth and then soothed it with her tongue, all the while thrusting her fingers deep in my cunt.

I lost it. My control shattered, and I tossed my head back as I came. I resisted the urge to stifle myself. Instead, I cried out as loud as my orgasm dictated. The sensations shook me and reverberated in my body and mind, making my pleasure climb higher than I ever thought possible.

I shuddered there on her counter as she dropped soothing kisses on my thighs and my mound. When she moved back, smoothing her hair, she said, “So, listen,” she said, taking a swig of her beer. “Can I interest you in lunch?

Turns out we had started with dessert.

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