A warm glow in the eastern sky, all pink and reddish-purple, foreshadowed the impending sunrise. Gazing out her window, rubbing her belly, Iris thought of the hot encounter the previous night. Their intimate embraces lingered in Iris’s mind and on her body. His tender loving touch, his subservience, and attention to her needs flickered like a movie in her thoughts. The whole thing had been delicious. She basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Iris’s fingers ran over his frame, such a tasty man.

The date lasted well into the night. Iris and Cliff hit it off in spectacular fashion, partaking of an intimate dinner at a swank restaurant, an artsy film, followed by drinks and conversation. Never an awkward silence, the two gazed into one another’s eyes. A spark passed between them, a sense of understanding, a magic moment, when those destined to be one share an epiphany — the one second when love spawns.

Her touch reached into his mind, heart, and soul. Like tendrils of a plant, the contact grew, working deep inside him, stoking a fire. Twining around his will, the seed took hold. A tangle of her clutched him, taking control of Cliff in a manner he couldn’t recognize. Cliff perceived a connection.

You must understand, Cliff found his soulmate that night. He realized this in a flash. A bolt out of the blue struck him, and he wouldn’t blow this chance. Often, all you have is one chance at happiness, one opportunity to make the perfect connection. He resolved not to muck up this thing; he’d do what’s required, in the time necessary, to win this beautiful soul.

Time, as time wants to do, got away from the young would-be lovers. And so, the hour grew late, “Last Call,” the bartender called out, and the pair made their way to the parking lot. He went to open her door. She stood with demure patients, waiting for a first kiss. Turning to her, Cliff sensed she wanted him to kiss her.

Leaning down, he parted his lips, so close, and pressed his to hers. A fire passion swept over him; he fought to control himself as burned inside his chest, his intellect, his loins. Engulfing him, consuming him, Cliff wanted Iris, every inch of her, every ounce of her love. He needed to touch her soul. The embrace went on for moments, seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to five. Tongues danced inside one another’s mouths. Lips pressed together, dancing with one another, as sparks of electricity ran down Cliff’s spine.

At last, Iris broke the kiss, breathing hard, fixing a gaze on Cliff; Iris’s eyes devoured him. Her appearance appeared angelic, and yet her desire showed in her eyes. A lusty expression of wanton need covered her face, her tongue slivered out, running over her luscious lips, snaked back inside her mouth.

“I understand it isn’t proper, but would you like to come to my apartment? I sense, mmm, this connection with you,” again, Iris’s tongue danced on her lips and teeth. “Only this mustn’t be a one-night-stand for you. This isn’t a one-night-stand, is it? You do feel as I do?”

“I’m not sure what this is,” Cliff smiled at her. “But, if you want me in your home, I’ll be there. And no, this, for sure, is not a one-night stand at all.” ‘Can’t rush this, can’t let her realize I’m head over heels this fast,’ he thought.

On the drive to her place, they conversed. Cliff spoke of his childhood, mother and father, brother and sister, friends. Telling her more in a twenty-minute drive than he’d ever related to his ex-girlfriend in their five years. As he pulled into the parking lot, he realized he’d dominated the conversation.

Reaching across the console of the car, Iris placed her hand on his shoulder. Being a man, Cliff at once flexed his muscle. Cutting his stare to her and back to the road, he saw her smile. Her lovely smile intoxicated Cliff. Gooseflesh rose over his body, his cock stiffened.

Sensing his arousal, Iris moved her hand over his muscles, let loose of his arm, and settled into her seat again, pleased with herself.

Stoplights, stop signs, and slow traffic allowed Cliff to expose his heart and mind to the woman. He babbled on, in a constant burbling of revealing personal stories. Without thinking, he prattled on about his hopes for the future. With care, Cliff avoided the unfortunate ventures into horrid activities. His careless abuse of a woman, or two, or perhaps five or six. His two years in prison and three years of probation for sexual abuse. He’d have to tell her, or not, more than likely not.

At last, satisfied he’d been impressive, he opened the conversation up to her.

“But what of you?” he turned off the car, got out, went to her side, and opened the door. Holding his hand to her, she grasped his hand, rising from the seat. Reared onto her tippy toes, she pressed her lips to his ear.

Inside his brain, snaking into his emotions, Iris took root. Sprouting small flowers inside him, Iris took the first steps to conquer the man’s will. Slender threads, winding their way, wrapping around Cliff’s being. The unseen presence inside him worked itself into his mind, emotions, and desires. Like ivy growing over a building, Iris grew inside his thoughts.

“You have all the time in the world to learn about me,” Irish with skill guided the conversation back to Cliff’s favorite subject. “I want to know every about you,” Iris’s warm breath moved across Cliff’s ear as she spoke, warming him throughout his body.

The fires of yearning rose inside Cliff, a lascivious hunger tempting him to take her in the parking lot. He fought his nature, his wickedness, the evil which cost him so many relationships. Controlling himself, as best he could, they made out, feet from Iris’s front door. Cliff’s penis hardened, strained to be free of the clothing, wanting to plant a seed deep in her.

Iris broke the embrace, smiling at Cliff. She touched him, running hands, those soft, beautiful, diminutive hands brushing over his stiff manhood sent ice-cold, shivers of white, hot heat through his body.

“Impressive.”

Iris’s fingers rand down, cup his balls through his pants, and she squeezed him, firm but gentle. Those eager plants inside him massaged Cliff, as well, coaxing him to spill his own seed.

Cliff shuddered, a thick jet of cum erupted, spraying over the inside of his shorts and pants. The second wave of ejaculate thickened the stain, a third, fourth soaked through the material. His body weakened, he slumped, his face reddened. His mind rushed, like a drug pulsed throughout his body and mind. Pulling away, he walked to the back of the car.

“I’m sorry,” Iris repressed the urge to laugh. “I didn’t mean to make you nut. At least, not yet anyway. Don’t be angry?”

“Angry, I’m angry, alright, at me. I’m like a fifteen-year-old.”

Taking him by the arm, Iris led him to her apartment, all the while trying to make him relax, to give himself over to the sensations. Cliff stumbled as his head spun, leaning into Iris for support. Pushing back from her, he steadied himself, tried to think, but his mind refused clear. A thick fog encased his brain — notions of love and sex clouded Cliff’s emotions and understanding. Cliff’s only thought of Iris, how he needed her, needed to make love to her.

Sex is a formidable addiction, and he’d been clean and sober from fucking’s hold for six months. The two jolts, the one in the bar’s parking lot, and the mind-numbing rush when he climaxed at her touch, only moments before, tore through his veins. Rich and thick, like a hit of crystal ice, the intoxicant surged, taking charge of emotions and thoughts.