On The Grapevine ‘You absolutely have to kiss this chick. Her lips are like a fucking Dyso

On The Grapevine ‘You absolutely have to kiss this chick. Her lips are like a fucking Dyson.'  The text blinked up onto his phone, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Short, quick, but loud. The train carriage glanced his way.  'Then surely kissing isn’t the most appropriate activity for them?’ For a moment he thought about adding some kind of emoticon, but they always seemed to lessen the strength of whatever he was writing. He was pretty sure she could read the tone, anyway. 'Well it’s not like I have a dick, so I’m not informed about her cocksucking capabilities. You’ll have to do that yourself, champ.’ That was her sign off, a notification that she was either done with the conversation or her attention was needed elsewhere, so he left it at that. He had a date with the topic of discussion the next day, so it was hardly like he needed to pump her for more information.  * He couldn’t help but look at those lips the instant she stepped out of the tube station, as if visual verification was needed that yes, these were indeed excellent kissers, a pair of plump pneumatics that could hoover him dry in moments. They were smiling at the moment, and he realised he was staring. “Let’s get inside, shall we?” He opened the door and she bustled past him.  Once seated, small talk buzzed between them amicably, with the odd flirtation fired occasionally across the table like warning shots, testing the waters to see exactly where one another’s interests lay. No matter what she was saying, or he, for that matter, he couldn’t help but be a little distracted.  She called him on it. “Your attention is wandering.” She said it like she was telling him his label was out, as though he was in danger of committing some social faux pas. Not too far from the truth.  “Sorry, I’m just struck by the oddness of this.” “Oh?"  He shrugged. "Well, to be potentially overly frank, it’s kind of weird to be sitting across from someone that I’m enjoying the company of, would like to do filthy things to, and be aware that you’ve also played with at least one of my friends, and we’ve had a discussion about your…” He paused, letting the sentence have a breather before he continued. “Abilities. It just seems like a unique situation to the scene.” For a good minute she didn’t say anything. Sipped her wine, moved her pasta around her plate in little circles, before finally looking up at him, her eyes flashing behind her glasses.  “You don’t make it sound like a problem.” He smiled.  “It’s not. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve only heard good things.” That was when he felt her foot. It was sliding up the back of his calve, and she’d somehow divulged herself of her heel without him noticing. Then it was between his legs, and he happily cocked an eyebrow in response.  “What you haven’t thought about…” She started, her voice a little softer. “Is that while you may have heard a few things about me..” Her toe pressed against him, and he sat a little straighter. “I’ve heard all sorts of things about you.” She couldn’t help but smirk, a great big wry thing, painted all over her face. She let that sink in, before she finished him off with a well chosen pair of words.  “Big boy.” For a moment, perhaps half a second, he might have blushed.  -- source link

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