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 Away match

   Our triangular relationship was not fully symmetrical.  While Ricardo
and me would sometimes meet on our own, go on a date, I would dress up, he
would say romantic things, that kind of stuff, Paul was always just our
buddy, part of the inventory of the appartment, and always happy to help
out with a hand or a cock.

   That evening, I had gone out for a meal with Ricardo, I wore a knee long
flowery summer skirt and a slightly see-through low cut white blouse under
my black cardigan.  We got a table in a corner, where nobody could see us.
I had insisted not to go to the cheap but good Indian around my corner.  I
felt very much like fumbling, and since that traumatic party where it all
started, I was much more careful to maintain a minimum of discretion.  I
was in an excellent mood that day, because, to my delight and surprise,
Stepan had contacted me, he wanted to meet up with me the next day.  We sat
down, and I took off my cardigan.  I did not look up, but I could feel both
Ricardo's and the waiter's eyes glued to the outline of my nipples through
the transparent blouse.  I did not wear a bra and the anticipation of the
effect had aroused me sufficiently for my nipples to become erect and
visibly stick out through the thin fabric.  I looked up and ordered

   "Can we have the menue, please, and some poppadoms already.  Oh and a
jug of water as well, please."

   I stretched like a cat, leaned back and smiled mischieviously at
Ricardo, who scanned with his eyes up and down my body, smiled very broadly
and petted my knee under the table.  I had my legs crossed and stretched
out the one that was on top to briefly press the side of my sandal against
his calv, with a conspirating look on my face.  This would be a
three-course foreplay.  We kept giving us promising and longing looks
across the table, touched our hands and arms openly over the table, or our
knees and legs secretly underneath it.  Ricardo could not take his eyes off
my nipples that shone through the blouse and had to reach out a couple of
times to touch them.  He touched them twice through the blouse, but once he
simply opened a couple of buttons of my blouse and shoved his hand in. 
Sligthly louder than intended I told him off

   "Ricardo!  You can't just take my tit out in the middle of a
restaurant!"

   The bloke at a table close to ours turned his head in a reflex, which
gained him a punch against his chest and an evil hiss from his girlfriend.
Ricardo and I giggled, I blushed and buttoned up my blouse again.  We
relaxed back and continued to eat.

   Coming back from the toilet, I thrived on the looks that I was given.  A
tall long-legged woman with a round butt, showing herself off in a
flattering and shape revealing summer skirt, her naked breasts visible
through the thin fabric of the transparent blouse.  The entire staff, who
were bored behind the counter of their not very busy restaurant, followed
me with their eyes.  I pretended not to register.  Without a comment I
handed Ricardo my handbag.  He looked at me questioningly.

   "Open it!"

   I nodded at the bag.  I crossed my legs, feeling my trimmed pubic hair
touch my thighs where normally my knickers would sit.  Following an
impulse, I had taken them off in the toilet and stuffed them into my
handbag that I had just handed to Ricardo.  With puzzlement, he looked at
the pair of worn knickers.  Sometimes, he really is not the sharpest tool
in the box.  After a worryingly long period of time, he smiled and shook
his head

   "You dirty little fuck!"

   and bent down to stick his hand under my skirt.  I was too far away for
him to check I really was naked down there, he only reached my lower thigh
- which I did not regret, because I preferred him work his way there
slowly. He leaned back.  I slipped my foot out of the sandal and rested it
on his lap under the table.  He started caressing my calv, my knee and my
foot.  I stroked his cock with the ball of my foot.  By the time we were
given the bill, I had moved around the table, bit by bit, so he could
secretly move his arm underneath my skirt all the way and finger my naked
pussy.  Sitting there, it wasn't too obvious that I had spread my legs in a
not very ladylike fashion, even though people may have wondered about my
flushed cheeks and heavy breathing.  When we walked out, Ricardo was
walking a step behind me, pushing me gently forward with his hand on my
bum, gaining envious looks from the other men.

   Paul was watching TV when we entered the appartment, but we ignored him,
we walked straight through into the bedroom and stripped each others
clothes off in literally no time.  We fell onto the bed, wildly snogging,
and even though I am normally more of a passive lover, I felt like taking
action.  Ricardo was lying on his back, I came up to my knees and moved one
leg over him, so my pussy was right above his face, to prepare us for a 69.
I immediately felt his tongue between my legs, and decided that, before I
bent down to take my cock in his mouth, i wanted to enjoy sitting on the
receiving end for a while.  I started moving my hips over his face, in
small circular movements at first that made his tongue slide around my
clitoris, and then, as I moved my hips in more intense motion backwards and
forwards, up and down my cleft.  It was very nice.  I spread my legs even
wider and now bent forward to use my mouth on him.  I started by moistening
my hand and taking his shaft in my hand, stroking up and down and bent down
to lick his balls while doing so, his tongue restlessly moving across my
clitoris.  Then I started licking up and down the shaft, as his tongue
became more agile between my wide open legs.  I moaned.  I closed my mouth
around his cock, and I kept moaning with pleasure about this virtuous
tongue with my mouth full of his hard throbbing cock.  I sucked.  Then I
came.

   I pulled him out of my mouth.  I moved forward a couple of inches and
even further down, with my butt right in front of his face and then slit
forward, leaving a wet trace of his saliva and my juices on his chest, like
a snail.  Sliding the way down to his groin gave me the time to recover
from my first orgasm.  When I arrived there, I just plunged my pussy down
on his cock.  He groaned.  I was looking down towards his feet and started
riding him furiously.  He clasped my hips and started moving his hips up to
meet my rhythm.  I rocked up and down, shoving his cock deep inside me. 
Soon, both of us were covered in sweat and enjoying ourselves thoroughly. I
started clenching my pussy muscles rhythmically to squeeze his cock that
drove in and out of me, which he welcomed with loud moans of pleasure.  I
kept riding him.  We both came quite quickly, him crying out.  When Paul
entered Ricardo's room some time later to see if we're up to anything fun,
he found both of us fast asleep.

   The next morning, however, Paul was part of it again.  He had prepared
us a good English fry-up with beans, saussages, tomatoes, egg and
mushrooms. I had made the coffee (they never made it quite strong enough,
seems to be an Anglo-American thing) and Ricardo had juiced oranges for all
three of us.  Now, fed and happy, Ricardo and me were sitting on the sofa,
watching TV, Ricardo's arm around me with his hand on one of my breasts,
squeezing it and pinching my nipple, as usual, while Paul was kneeling
between my legs, giving me head.  The boys were wearing shorts, I was
naked. Paul is very good with his mouth.  I love oral sex, both receiving
and giving, but, normally, it would not be something that would get me off
on its own.  Yesterday's 69 had been psychologically lubricated by the
whole restaurant excitement, but just plain head would normally be good for
foreplay, or even indispensable, but not for climax.  Paul, however, was an
artist.  He used his hand and his mouth together, spread my pussy with his
fingers, stroked my belly as he licked me, inserted his fingers when
necessary.  Sometimes he licked light as a feather, sometimes hard and
fast. He knew how to get me off, and he took pride in it.  Maybe that
explains why he was so offended when I jumped up from being pleasured when
my phone signalled the arrival of a text message.  I jumped, naked, over
piles of clothes and duvets that were spread out on the floor and took the
phone out of the pocket of my jacket.  Stepan wanted to meet me at 5 in the
park!

   The blokes could not share my excitement.  Paul was pouting because I
had not appreciated his oral efforts, and Ricardo was simply jealous.  The
three of us were officially non-committed, but up to now it had only been
Ricardo who had been making use of this liberty - even though, with Paul
you could never be too sure because he was not the kind of person who would
share his adventures.  He did not talk very much at all.  Ricardo, in any
way, had slept with another German girl that he had met when he visited his
uncle in Hannover, and he had been dating an English girl, Emma, for a
couple of weeks two months ago.  He had kept our thing going during the
time, but she did not know about it.  This was one of the two reasons why I
knew he was not serious about her.  The other one was that he was quite
obviously trying to make me jealous by telling me all the juicy details
about Emma.  Realising that, I had been deliberately non-possessive, to
wind him up, taking her side and trying to persuade him to commit to her.
He had eventually dropped her.  Ricardo, in turn, had always been a little
suspicious about who I spent my time with if I was not with them, and I
could not help thinking that the reason why Paul and I never made love on
our own was because both of us sensed that it could be hazardous to our
arrangement.  Ricardo was more than happy to share me with pretty much
everyone if he was present, but he did not like the idea of me going out
and enjoy on my own.  Up to now, his worries had been in vain, I had not
hidden anything from them, two youngsters and a full time job were quite
enough for me.  Stepan, however, was a different thing.  I had to go home
now, sleep for a couple of hours and then spend a couple of more hours
picking the right outfit.

   The boys could not hide their schadenfreude, when I could not find my
handbag.  I must have forgotton it in the restaurant, the last time I
remembered having it was when I had handed it to Ricardo so he would
realise my knickers were not where they should be.  I did not have money, I
did not have my keys, my flatmates would not come home till eight that
evening.  We called the restaurant, but they were closed on sundays.  I
would have to go and meet Stepan straight from here.  I did not even have
underwear, not even used one, since my knickers were in the handbag, and I
had not worn a bra.  I had to take a shower, I smelled like cum and male
sweat all over, but my hair straightener was at home, I would be looking
like Jimi Hendrix.  At least, Ricardo was using gender neutral shampoo, and
I knew one of his ex girfriends had left body lotion and a decent perfume
behind.  The blokes were highly amused and kept entertaining each other
with possible excuses I could make about my looks.  I gave them a very evil
look, went into Paul's room and set the alarm to 3, closed the door and
tried to sleep.  I thought about calling it off, but it seemed to late, and
I had just texted him I would go.  Well, it could have been worse - at
least I had my telephone!

   As soon as I met Stepan, I knew, it was a mistake.  The boys had given
me enough money, the skirt was still flattering, and it was overcast, so my
cardigan could hide the fact that my blouse was transparent and that I was
not wearing a bra, so I was actually in quite a decent state.  However, the
entire outfit was a little crinkled, I felt really uncomfortable about not
wearing underwear, my hair was a mess, and I was not wearing make-up.  He
looked really taken back.  Out of all the men in this world, why do I have
to meet one of the few ones with social intelligence?  Most men would have
not even realised, or not have thought any further about it, but he could
read the signs, he knew that this was a very unlikely way to show up to a
date and that something was wrong.  In an impulse, the first thing I
worried about was how I would get out of this situation

   "I'll have to be home by eight o'clock to open the door for my flatmate
Heather, who forgot her keys!"

   Wow, what an opening.  He looked at me with piercing eyes.  'What do you
want?' they asked, even though he said nothing.  I felt horrible and small,
I did everything wrong.  Just say nothing, from time to time, Maria, just
shut up!

   We walked through the park, and he started talking about Italy, I talked
about England.  To my infinite relief, we found our connection again
quickly, we walked through roses, inhaling their smell, and then through
the greens on which people were practicing all these incredibly English
sports, like cricket and something that was like petanque but with large
rubber balls rather than small metal balls.  They seemed to take it very
seriously.  Some plaid football as well.  My hand found his naturally, he
took it, and even though I still felt strange about not wearing underwear,
I relaxed.

   Three hours passed like a blink of an eye.  I did not want to go, but in
a way I was quite glad I had manoeuvred myself in a situation where I had
to leave.  Things would have surely gone on from here, but it is a stupid
matter of fact that it is profitable for the male state of mind if you make
yourself a bit difficult.  Stepan took my face in his hand and kissed me. I
closed my eyes and parted my lips sligthly.  They were very tender kisses
at first, careful kisses, just with the lips, but, at one point, I could
get a taste of his saliva.  No onion this time, just that very nice taste
of saliva that is not your own, a taste unlike any other taste.  We kissed
more passionately soon and I was leaning up against him, feeling the front
of his body pressed up against mine, and he felt very good, his hands, his
shoulders, everything.  I do not believe in "he's-the-one-theory", but it
felt very much like lock and key.

   "I am sorry, Heather is waiting for me at home!  I have to go."

   His hands stroke lovingly over my bum as we kiss good bye.  And that's
where he must have realised that a panty-line was absent.  He stopped, and
then, without any warning, shoved his hand down my skirt over my naked bum.


   "You're not wearing knickers!"

   I looked at him apologetic.  What must he think, i go on a date with
him, not wearing underwear, and leave early on a lame excuse.  He looked at
me completely mystified and slightly suspiciously.  Again, I cursed myself.
Out of all the blokes I dated, why do I have to do a stupid cock-up like
this with one of the few that have good instincts?  Pretty much anybody
else would not have realised it, and if they did, they would have been
turned on, not thinking too hard about why I chose not to wear knickers and
that it does not go with the logic of how the rest of the date went.

   I decided to go for defense by attack, and out came something very
stupid.

   "Stepan, it is a really long story, and I cannot explain it to you at
this very moment.  It is stupid and involves me telling you things I do not
think I want to tell you yet, but the one thing that matters is that I did
not actually intend to date you not wearing knickers, I wanted to wear
knickers, and the other thing that matters is that I am really serious
about you and want to see you again, that the idea this could not go on
from here patriifies me, and that I will not hide things from you.  You'll
have to trust me, please."

   I looked him in the eyes.  They said

   "What the fuck?!?!"

   Seconds later, he seemed to have made up his mind, he gave in

   "Call me on thursday, alright?"

   I nodded.  He pulled me towards him, to give me another good bye kiss,
and as he did so, he did something that I did not expect.  He pulled up my
summer skirt and grabbed one of my now uncovered back cheeks such that the
tips of his fingers disappeared between my legs and just about made contact
with the hair and the wetness of my pussy.  He looked me in the eyes, his
fingertips still actually almost inside my pussy, I heard my own heart
beat, I did not know what to say, I just stared at him.  He kissed me on
the forehead, let go of my naked bum and the skirt fell down over it again.
I stared at him, then turned on the spot and walked off, not looking back,
but I could feel his eyes follow me up to the next street corner.  I felt
competing emotions, relief, remorse, arousal, submission, amusement. 
Before I turned in, I looked back, just to confirm what I had sensed, he
stood where I left him, he smiled and his eyes rested on my body.  I went
off, hoping Heather would be home to open the door for me.