A Question for Monday

I met the man to whom I would give my virginity on my first day in a new job. To me, he was just another of countless faces I saw and hands I shook that day. Little did I know that I had made quite an impression on him, albeit merely through looks.

I'm quite a small girl in all aspects, tiny really, especially in comparison to him--but more on that later. I'm also, generally, quite an extrovert. At work, however, it is quite a different story; I hate sticking out and will try to hide from attention when I can. Maybe it is because that's easy with my stature, or because of my Indian cultural heritage or my previous job in hierarchical finance.

I didn't really have much to do with him for a while after joining, but we worked in adjacent teams, so there would be the occasional touchpoint. It wasn't until he found a reason to set up a catch-up meeting, maybe a year into my time at the company, that things began to change.

We spent that meeting talking less about the work at hand and more about the company and its peculiar culture and processes and habits in general; it was really quite insightful for me. When he suggested a follow-up it was easy for me to agree, and soon he had developed into my mentor. We began meeting once a month at least.

It wasn't long until our personal lives began to enter our conversations. There wasn't really much to mine; I spent most of my free time either at home, where i lived with my aunt and cousin, or out socialising with my friends. He was about 10 years older than me, married happily as far as I could tell, with small children. There was nothing there to suggest anything other than a mentor/mentee relationship.

Things began to change once more when the office meetings turned into coffees and then lunch outside. He would insist on paying, giving me lifts, meeting around my schedule. Our conversation was lighthearted and pleasant; there was no flirtation in it but we both had a good time. Our meetings became more frequent. Eventually, the gifts started; nothing romantic in any way, but small, thoughtful things here and there.

Typical case of grooming, you might think; stupid girl to fall for that. In retrospect, I don't think he had any intentions or hopes up until this point; he just thought I was cute and he enjoyed my company as much as I did his. In fact, he was a perfect gentleman: holding open doors, leaving choices to me, never "accidentally" brushing against me. Guys in my generation could learn a lot from him.

It would fall to me, unaware of it as I was as yet, to take things further. Two things happened within a few days of each other to make me first feel the need and then see the opportunity.

I was 24 years old at the time, and it is not as though guys my age had never tried anything. I was unsure of my tiny stature at first, small breasts and no hips and all. But it turns out plenty of guys like that, and my big brown eyes probably helped. That week, however, one of the guys from my group of friends made an extremely crude attempt at me, even touching what was not his to touch. I sort of liked the guy, to be fair, but I certainly don't any longer after that stunt. I decided it was time to have some positive experiences before dealing with my generation again.

Then, at our next coffee, I caught him looking at my cleavage. There isn't much to see, as I said, but I wear push-up bras, and so the tops of my apricot-sized breasts must have been somewhat discernible. He immediately apologised profusely, but I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands, literally. I reached across the table, placed my long, slender fingers on his and looked at him, smiling, saying I didn't mind at all.

It turns out he had had a bit of a crush on me from day one. Shy, small girls were exactly his thing, and although he loved his wife dearly, there were some things she could never give him. He had never thought he stood a chance with me, what with the age difference and the fact that, although he was almost two metres tall, there was a kilo or five too much in places.

For my part, I did not think I would mind either the age or his stature very much. It might even be beneficial if he wasn't as new to things as I was. I was sure that I was safe with him; nothing was further from his personality than taking advantage in any way. He was just a decent guy.

We'd agreed to meet up at a nice, clean hotel one Friday after work. He was often free on Fridays; we had had lunch together at that time before. I booked a room, checked in and texted him the room number. I'd just had time to shower and put on the hotel bathrobe when I heard him knock on the door. I belted the robe around my waist and opened the door for him.

He was taken aback at first; he had clearly not expected me to be in anything but my work outfit. He smiled broadly when he stepped into the room. He placed his hands behind my shoulders and pulled me in for a kiss. I had to lean my head back quite a bit; he was bending down. It wasn't very comfortable.

He smelled good, though, and his lips were soft but strong. They played with mine while we kissed, and I sighed, involuntarily, and opened my own lips, voluntarily, to intensify the kiss. He scooped me up as if it was nothing and carried me the short distance to the bed before gently laying me down in the middle of it. The mattress was quite hard, but I had little time to think about it.

He was next to and above me in an instant, and we began kissing each other in earnest. Within what felt like seconds, his hands began wandering and were tracing the outline of my body through the soft fabric of the bathrobe. They were accompanied by a pleasant tingling under my skin wherever they went, and when his lips travelled down to the side of my neck, I could not hold back small moans of pleasure.

Encouraged, he undid the belt of the bathrobe in a single, swift motion and threw open its edges. Suddenly lying on the bed completely naked and fully exposed to him, I immediately had second thoughts; no man had ever seen this much of me, and I was not exactly voluptuous. Of course, I needn't have worried, for he was completely transfixed.

His eyes traveled up and down my body, seemingly trying to decide where he should direct his attention first. I waited in anticipation of what he was planning. Eventually, his fingers began tracing the outside of my breasts while his lips returned to my neck. The pleasant tingling feeling was back, and I soon found myself squirming to try and get him to touch more. He obliged by beginning to gently caress me, brushing over my tiny, erect nipples with his fingers and sending a shiver through my body whenever he did.

After a moment, he leaned further over me, and his kisses began wandering further down, over my collarbone, with his lips eventually closing around my left breast. It felt heavenly, soft and warm and very intimate; had you told me that I would permit this to be done to me just two weeks back, I probably would have dismissed it. Yet here he was, lavishing attention on what no man had ever touched and making me gasp and shiver under his touch.

I drew a sharp breath when, unexpectedly, I felt his right hand touch my mons. I was, by this time, extremely sensitive, and every one of his touches sent little sparks of electricity back up my body. He drew little circles around the joining of my labia, traced my lips down between my legs and, eventually, pulled them apart to be able to place his finger on my clitoris. Pleasure exploded from deep within me, and I began moaning uncontrollably whenever his fingers shifted. After a particularly well-timed lick of his tongue on my nipple in conjunction with increasingly speedy taps of his fingers on my clit, I reached my first-ever climax with a man.

My legs, which I had opened slightly to give him better access, clamped around his hand as my hips shook in exhilaration, my entire lower body relaxing from a tension that I had not really seen coming. When I released him, he smiled down at me and sat back to take off his own clothes.

I watched with interest as, bit by bit, his body became visible. I had seen my fill of guys' torsos at the beach and at parties, and he measured up okay. I hadn't chosen him for his looks but for his decency and his experience. I was a little apprehensive when he began removing his pants, though; having watched the odd porn clip I knew what to expect but I had not seen a penis in real life.

When he removed his boxer shorts and his erection sprang free, I sat up to take a closer look. When I closed my slender fingers around him, he felt hard and soft at the same time, and much thicker than I had expected. In retrospect, his length was average. I wasn't really concerned about fit at first; my body was made for this after all. But I did begin to worry when my hands moved up and down his shaft and he seemed to grow bigger and harder by the second.

When I looked up at him, I could see that he was enjoying my movements. He was still sitting upright; his eyes were closed, and his hand was idly playing with my breast. Soon, however, he stopped my ministrations and gently pushed me back onto the mattress. He took one of the pillows from the bed and placed it under me, pushing my legs fully apart in the process.

Lying in front of him spreadeagled as I was, I became properly apprehensive. Was this the moment that I would lose my virginity? Alas, he had other plans and bent down to give me a soft kiss right on my vulva. It felt great and got better when he took his fingers to help, pulling apart my lips and beginning to kiss and lick my entrance and my clit.

His index finger began to explore my tight canal, pressing into me with tiny movements before withdrawing. I could feel him bumping into my hymen, which added to the familiar pressure building up once again in my stomach. He soon added a second finger and placed his thumb on my clit, replacing his lips, which now travelled back up my body, tickling and tingling my hips, waist, stomach and chest. His movements accelerated, and when his lips closed around my breast and nipple once more, I came again, my insides pulsing around his fingers and my moans filling the room.

I was still in the ebbing throes of my orgasm when, in a smooth movement, he pulled back his fingers, placed his erection at my entrance and gently began to push. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could feel my lips parting for him, opening me up to his penetration. He pushed through my hymen slowly; there was no pain at all, and I could feel him pushing further and further into me. It felt very tight; I guess the physics of my small body and his girthy intrusion made sure of that.

Eventually, he came to rest deep within me. I took stock, feeling him fill me but experiencing no unpleasantness at all. I began rocking my hips slightly, which he took as his cue to withdraw and begin slowly, deeply thrusting in and out of me. The sensations were very different from his fingers, and I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter for him. Soon, I was panting and lifting my hips in an effort to meet his thoughtful, powerful thrusts.

His hands returned to my breasts, and I lifted my legs to try and pull him closer to me. I could not believe how intimate and sexy it felt to have my body accept another person in this way, and if it had been up to me, we could have continued our slow dance forever.

He, however, had other ideas. After speeding up his thrusts a little, he pulled out of me and lifted me off the bed, flipping me over onto my stomach. He pulled me up into a kneeling position, and before I knew it, I felt him push himself back inside me. It felt as if he reached much deeper in this position, and when his advance stopped, I could feel him bump into my cervix. This was a little unpleasant, and I winced, which he immediately took to heart as he pulled back.

He began thrusting into me from behind, taking care not to penetrate me too deeply again. I enjoyed the new angle, which helped him rub along my G-spot, but couldn't make up my mind which position I liked better. That changed, however, when he reached around my waist with both hands and pulled me up into him, one hand on my breast and the other one gently rubbing my clit. My breathing intensified under this threefold attack, and I could feel my muscles tighten for the third time that day.

He could clearly feel it too, for his movements became stronger, and I heard him begin to moan. Just when I thought I was about to come again, he pushed himself all the way into me, and I could feel him twitching as he came deep inside. The feeling of his spurts against my cervix pushed me over the edge as well, and I clenched down on him as our bodies shook with exhilaration.

We collapsed onto the bed, separating in the process. I felt a strange emptiness where he had just been, but above all, I was thankful for the experience. It took us a moment to both recover, at which point he got up and went to the bathroom. I stretched out on the bed, nude and sticky as I was, enjoying the afterglow. I decided to stay at the hotel overnight; it was paid for, after all. They also had a small spa, which sounded like a good idea at that moment.

When he had finished showering, he came out of the bathroom and dressed. Before he left, I thanked him for doing this with me. He, of course, was having none of it, saying it had been his privilege. Then he left.

It felt weird to think that he would just go home as if nothing had happened. I briefly wondered what it would be like to meet at the office, having seen each other naked and shared this moment.

That, however, was a question for Monday.