The dating site coffee meet was going well, professional caucasion guy, very vanilla, but with an enticing cheeky smile. Hearing his excitement about working on his bach in the Marlborough Sounds had me thinking of dust, and sweat... saltiness, cool breezes rustling through native bush. My nipples were hardening and I could feel a wetness below. The cafe was kind of busy and our seats too far apart to discretely touch. I was burning with curiousity.... would there be a physical reciprocated connection or spark if we touched or a cold numbness? I suggested we peruse the plants in the adjoining garden centre, that I was wanting herbs for my kitchen garden, he agreed,

In the herb section I slowly sidled up close to him, first just a brush of clothing, then arms, then the curve of my breast against his forearm as out hands connected and fingers entwined. Yes, contact... connection... spark... but now my body and mind were more curious... as were my hands... they felt the fabric of his trousers but were conscious they were but only cms from something else... my hand drifted down the outter seam but drifted across his thigh and up his inner leg, my knuckles grazing against a growing prize on its ascent as he let out a murmurred moan.

His pleasure, whisper of "naughty", and the hardening my knuckles had sensed made me more curious as to lay below. So my hand gently slid again down familiar territory down his left inner thigh but came up again a litle to the west and up the gully to cup firmly along his aroused cock but proceeding up running my fingertips along the full ridge of his rod.

He gasped,