I just came out of a six-day relationship. Yeah you heard right. After being hung up on one guy for almost two years, we fell for this guy SO hard.

Tinder has a lot to answer for. But this guy, let’s call him Dick, because I think he had one, despite having no balls, seemed too good to be true. We chat on the app, exchange numbers, the usual. No dickpics are sent, which is good because this is a family show and we never ask for those. Who does? What no guy, and I mean NO GUY seems to realise is that the sight of an angry veiny hard penis does not turn a girl on. It’s the sight of it in its natural state which is the golden ticket.

I’ll leave you with that bombshell, sir.

So yeah we progress to Dick calling me, which again is very unusual in these horrific times. He’s in the car, he keeps it brief and I’m grinning from ear to ear. He’s not been creepy, or suggestive or weird. And we haven’t talked about sex.

For the following few days, I get a “good morning” and “night night” text. It’s quite a lot to deal with when you haven’t had any messages from anyone of the opposite sex in any regularity. Apart from the fuckboy texts which are usually “hey”, “you there” or “I’m horny”. Some of his I reply to, some I don’t. I get a cheeky naked pic in the shower from him but no D, and I don’t reciprocate.

{One day we will write a thesis on male communications, or lack thereof in the digital age and how different they are to females. But this is not the day. Oh no}

On the call, he’s asked me if I’m free Sunday. Now I realise we are in the middle of a pandemic but at that point last week we were not on lockdown. I repeat, not on lockdown.

We arrange to meet at a place in town, but by Friday night we are on semi-lockdown. So we switch to a walk. For me this is a delight – I can’t even get a guy to buy me a drink unless he’s fucking me, so a walk is something. It shows me he’s human.

Sunday morning, I just get the feeling that this isn’t going to happen. I’m a big girl now and I can sense it. And then the text comes through. I guess at least he’s given me notice, but he’s saying he’s ill.

Fair enough, we are on lockdown and you’re not supposed to kiss and maybe this was all a stupid idea anyway. We’re not in the 1940’s and courtship is fucked. I’m not not going to get laid until the Autumn and it hurts. Boo fucking hoo.

And then it’s pretty much crickets. The morning and evening greetings stop. Is he really ill? Married? Fucking around?

And then today he’s suddenly back.

We are way too old for this shit that’s for sure.

It’s four weeks later and I am still thinking about it. I should not be thinking about it at all. I should just be thinking about the marvellous sex. But I am not.

It happened at the station. I’ve never been kissed there before. With a guy I hardly know who had just called me a weirdo. I unzip his jacket and put my hands inside. He’s warm and I want him so badly.

It was the kind of kiss I’ve not had in a long time. Slow, sensual and thrilling. The one when you know you’re gonna end up fucking. On the train, he clutched my bum as the carriage swayed and I exploded.

---

 

It’s the same guy as before, The Accountant. After him going dark, me deleting his number, forgetting about him,  etcetera he suddenly reappeared in my messages.

So we meet for a drink in the same place. Except for this time, he tells me he’s badly injured his neck. Immediately I think he won’t be able to do anything. I’m wrong of course.

 

---

 

In almost a replay of before he goes down on me straight away. Last time he actually played with me so much he made my clit numb. My pussy was sore for days afterward. This time I tell him to stop when it is too much. His thumb presses into my inner thigh and I love how that feels. Like he’s totally in control here. And that’s fine with me.

His boxers are black with a white waistband and I still get excited to put my hand in there and play with the package inside. He has smooth large balls and a perfectly cut cock but he doesn’t seem to like me playing with them very much. He kisses me, with the taste of me all over him and I shiver. I take him in my mouth while he lies back on the bed, slowly taking him all deep down my throat. He groans and moans and after a while pulls me away. Then he rolls me over so I’m underneath him, underneath his perfect thighs. The tip of his cock pushes into me while he kisses me and although I want him to fuck me just like that he needs to wear a condom.

I pull one out for him to put on, he unrolls it looking at me the whole time. Just thinking about mounting him now is too much. His cock fits inside me perfectly and he seems to go crazy with me riding him slowly. He pumps into me from below, grabbing my hips. and then flips me over. Slowly entering me and then pulling out with a pop, waiting a few seconds and then going again. God, what did I do to deserve this guy?

He seems to know exactly how I want to cum – riding him with him kneading my tits and biting my nipples. It’s not very long before I do.

He makes no noise when he comes. Yes, he is perfect.

---

 

A few days later, I notice the bruise on my left inner thigh where his thumb had been and I smile to myself.

He’s been pursuing me for about six months. One of the last from the swingers site I gave my number to. And dear reader, I have been putting him off. I’ve given him every excuse under the sun: a new job, working late, wrong time of the month, too tired, delays on the train, you name it, I’ve said it.

So when we meet one cold January evening, of course, I’m nervous. It’s been around 5 months since I slept with anyone. But he looks so freaking handsome. Better even than the one photo he’d sent me: a neat beard with flecks of grey and happy twinkling eyes. We have a few drinks and I definitely fancy him. But is he into me? I can never tell, friends. I can never tell.

I imagine when you are a man you know immediately. You must be able to sense or even smell a woman who wants you. There must be something. Am I tossing my hair, playing with my drink? Is he looking at my ass when I go to the bar? Ther must be research on this. There are people playing darts and I try to get him to play with me, thinking the interaction would be sexy. His arm on mine, showing me how to hit the bullseye. But no, all the boards are full.

I go to the loo and check myself. I’m soaking wet. Even meeting with the guy has me excited. I have to ask if he wants to come back – I don’t want a third drink. He says yes.

---

We take the tube and then the bus. It’s always fascinating to see how a guy reacts to the banality of travel, the boring bit before the icing on the cake. Impatience, indifference or just oh god he’s touching my thigh. Just that physical touch is so much. He wants me.

Like any well-behaved boy he takes his shoes off as he enters the house. And then his hands are snaking around my waist and we go upstairs.

I’d got it in my head that I’d been doing sex all wrong and had vowed to stop going down on a guy before he did that for me. Behave like a queen, get treated like a queen. So I try out my theory. Oh, daddy. He doesn’t even need to be asked.

I lie back on the bed as everything gets removed by him. I can’t believe how lucky I am that this man is not a complete psychopath. Why on earth did I put him off for so long? Fear, confidence, still being in love with the guy before.

He grips my thighs in a way I just LOVE. His technique is something else – lips, hands, fingers, beard all brushing against my pussy. I am soaked through, I can feel myself seeping onto the cover beneath me.

I have barely touched his cock at this point. He seems absolutely intent on pleasuring me but it has been so long that I can’t seem to come despite really really wanting to.

Eventually, I get to ride him, he hasn’t brought condoms but by now I have given up adding up his ‘score’ as he’s perfect. His body is lightly covered with hair, including his chest and as he lies back I exclaim ” you’ve got a six-pack” which he laughs at. He’s probably the most in-shape guy I’ve been with. And I’m going to enjoy it.

I tell him to look in the mirror and watch me fuck him. And he does as he’s told. All he says is “You’re so hot”, which I will take to my grave.

I’m back in the saddle, and boy does he makes me cum good.

YEE-HA!

 

 

It’s been a while but he’s been messaging me fairly regularly for a meet. Less than 24 hours since I met you-know-who but given I didn’t get much action, I’m game. I guess I can’t be in love then.

He’s arriving at lunchtime – I’m working from home. I choose matching neon underwear and a blue vest dress. I toy with wearing no knickers but decide I enjoy the resistance. I slick myself with lube, make sure my lipstick is fixed and my hair is not too perfect.

And then there he is at the door. We kiss in the hallway, he’s smaller than I remember. Lucky I’m barefoot. He puts his hand up my dress – oh is there anything more sexy? He gropes at me, asking if I’m wet. Very soon he finds out that I am.

“Let’s get you upstairs” he growls.

---

I undress, deciding there is no point beating around the bush. He’s hard, I can feel through his shorts. We grope and kiss, standing up, he bends to suck a nipple. I step back and lie on the bed. He kneels down to lick my pussy, softly at first then rougher. His hot mouth there is a delight. And then fingers, one then two.

Soon my mouth is on his cock. I note the ginger hairs around his stalk as I swallow him. And then says he’s gonna come, pulling me off. He holds the end as the cum seeps out, apologising profusely. I fetch him some tissue, laughing, telling him it’s fine. But, dear reader he’s still hard so I manage to roll on a condom and position myself on him.

He knows what to do as I ride him, grab my tits and squeeze and lick them. I’m so close to cumming but of course he beats me to it.

His cock looks white, dead even in the condom so I help him take it off. He tells me its been a while which I find odd given he’s relatively handsome and polite. We chat about meaningless stuff and he lies there for a bit. I check when he has to leave – in ten minutes it turns out so no chance for another go.

When he leaves I sort myself out with my Rabbit.

I’ve finally pinned him down to see me. He’s in a very complicated situation involving  a nuisance neighbour and I don’t realise the enormity of the situation until I’m there and see the riot vans and the armed police. As a result we are using his friend’s house as a temporary base for the afternoon.

We meet in the park, it’s a beautiful day and I see him before he sees me. There is no picnic or plan, in fact I’ve already got lost and confused but here we are now. He looks tired, a little bloodshot in the eyes but even just to see him is everything to me. We walk to get ice-cream, he gives me a crisp note and lets me choose what I want. Like the proverbial kid in a sweet shop. We drive around for a while, as always he talks ten to the dozen and has about 15 things going on at once, his phone never stops and he knows everyone in the area. To be in the car with him eating ice-cream is enough for me, for now. I love him, after all. I just haven’t ever told him.

We get back to the house that he built for a friend. It’s not much from the outside and we go in the back way. The first thing I notice is the smell: fresh wood. The walls and ceilings are light Scandinavian pine. It’s beautiful, and I instantly relax. He shows me around, the stairs, a skylight – its like something out of a TV design programme. I’m open mouthed as I take in the detail, carefully going back down the stairs.

We settle down to watch some comedy – remember this is how he relaxes – and he lies his feet across me. I get orders to itch here, scratch there. He shows me how to massage his neck properly. We lie opposite each other and he starts to massage my feet. Wow. I’m shot back to the first time we met 18 months ago when he did the same, explaining sexual pressure points are in your feet. And then he pokes my pussy with his finger. I can feel it getting wetter as he strokes it over my knickers.

We both shift positions and he puts his head in my lap, still eyes on the TV, occasionally grasping my breast through my dress. The desire to take a photo of him like this is intense, I want to capture the moment and how he looks. I scratch his neck in the way he likes. I feel like I’m on holiday, in someone else’s house, with the boy in my lap. Lazy afternoons like this forever please.

We’ve spoken about me helping him shave his bits and I’m waiting for the cue. He leaps up and tells me he hasn’t showered yet – I mean no shit, I could tell. But I like a man who smells of man rather than aftershave.

He pulls off his clothes and is framed in the doorway. His dick, his beautiful dick hangs down and I take it all in. He starts the shower, telling me to find the clippers and I go scrambling everywhere for them. I pull off my dress and underwear and join him in the wet room. The floor is polished concrete and slippy. I have clippers in my hand and his beautiful thick dick in front of me. What could possibly go wrong?

Have I ever done this? I recall a guy doing it to me but never this way around. He holds his stalk out and he’s hard. He reaches down and kisses my breasts and I slide around a little. I switch on the clippers and start at the top. I don’t really want to shave off the hair, I like it. He’s not even particularly hairy, just a downy fuzz. We slip and slide around a bit and switch positions. I manage, with his help, to trim him how he wants.

I can’t remember which happens next: did he then shave me or did I kneel down and take his beautiful cock in my mouth?

I lick and suck the end then the length, a little like I had done with the ice cream earlier. He’s not 100% clean which is unusual for him, it’s not unpleasant but just a shock. Either way he’s showing me how to squeeze the end with my hand how he likes it, and is very soon grunting and spurting all over the floor, the white jets splattering on the black concrete floor.

He tells me he hasn’t come like that for a while. Oddly I don’t really care.

---

 

We go out to grab takeaway, a Lebanese and return back and eat it very quickly. It’s late now, around 8. He’s prepared some halloumi to go with it which also disappears. We chat a little bit about what’s been happening in each others lives. He’s poured me a glass of wine and I’m slowly drinking it when he tells me we’ve got to go.

I wasn’t expecting to or even sure if staying the night was possible. I grab my things and replace my clothes. I stalk out and he calls me back to say a proper goodbye but we don’t really do kissing.

Once again, I leave his house more disappointed than sated, the girl who always wants more.

 

He’s French, which is a surprise. I can’t quite place the accent at first but as he explains he’s from a small town near Bordeaux it unfurls from aural hieroglyphics into a recognisable Gallic twang.

One of our favourite all time fucks was French, so we kind of do an internal dance.

The drink at the pub is just a formality, after one we are riding a few stops back to mine.

He grabs me near the bed and we kiss softly, his stubble sexy against my lips. His hands smooth my body down, I grab his waist and feel how goddamn slim he is. I take off my jacket and his hands go over my breast, over the lace body I’m wearing. It’s too damn hot to be doing this so I switch on the fan and push him down on the bed, straddling him we kiss again and I grind into him.

I’ve already taken off my jeans and As I unpop the crotch of the body he gasps. Now I’m in my underwear, he’s fully clothed. I help him take off the shirt and then unbuckle his jeans. He’s hairy like a cartoon Frenchman with a thin silver chain around his neck. I pop off my bra and he buries his face in my breast, kneading them and sucking the nipples. Very soon he is pulling down his boxer shorts – red stripes – and I take him in my mouth. He’s got and oddly not hairy but no evidence of manscaping.

I tease a little and he groans, I take the length and then let it flop out. He makes noises like he loves it. I come up for a breather and we kiss, tongues of course. God he’s good at this. Now he’s pulling my knickers down and traces one finger down my cunt lips then buries his face there. Oh my goodness. A pleasure, sir.

I moan and writhe for a bit until he jumps up to get a condom. One if the first guys in a while to bring his own. He slides it on with an ease I haven’t seen in years and pushes his length inside. Oh good grief, what a glorious fit. Mon dieu indeed!

We missionary for a bit and it’s good, he knows how to move to get a good rhythm going and I fixate on how hairy his shoulders are for some reason. I ask if I can ride him and we switch, me sliding back onto his Gallic member and finding the sweet spot. Meanwhile he actually motor boats me, burying his face between my tits and really enjoying himself. Then grabs each one and licks and sucks and oh wow that’s it yes fuck oh god I’m coming that’s it!

I ride him for a bit longer then tell him to switch. Doggy style for him – as he grabs my hips I tell him to go harder and he explodes not long after.

We lie there for a bit and enjoy the fan. It’s begun to rain so I get up to close the window.

“You’ve got something stuck on you” he says as I peel off the condom wrapper from my ass.

I look at it “Large eh?”

It’s a Passante one but he’s pretty much punching above his weight. He’s a good size but by no means large.

Men eh? Especially French ones…

I haven’t seen him in around six weeks which for me may as well be six years. It’s a date of sorts because I am nervous and have been agonising over it all day. I’m even worrying what to wear which is ridiculous given he will probably rock up looking like he’s just fixed a car. Which he probably has.

I don’t really want to sleep with anyone else anymore, that’s how bad it’s got. We’ve talked about a lot of kinks but we’ve done very little together so far. Maybe he’s bread-crumbing me, maybe it’s legit. Maybe I will never know.

He’s driving over but we’re meeting at a venue near to mine, for the second time ever we are going to see some comedy. I get there first, grab some drinks and find a good seat. And then he is there, larger than life.

He compliments me on everything, and babbles on in his own inimitable way. I’d love to conduct a scientific study into why the fuck I fell for this guy and what it says about me, but for now I tell myself to stop overthinking. I’m with him in public and it feels delicious. I’m proud to be seen with a man, no, I’m proud to be seen with him. His beaming face, his gregarious nature. He makes me happy and I want to be with him. Is that love? Does it matter what it is?

We watch the two acts and we both laugh a lot. Towards the end our legs touch and I think he pulls away but then doesn’t. I’m just delighted to be anywhere near him. At one point he squeezes my cheeks and kisses me on the mouth. Mmm.

The evening ends and we both head for the exit, but he wants to take a little walk to look at the river. On the way he tells me he’s just going to drop me back and no funny business. The bottom drops out of my world and I can’t hide it. I’m keen and impatient to get back to mine and I wasn’t expecting this letdown.

He realises how disappointed I am. I direct him back to my house. It’s the first time in two years he’s been over, and sort of cements something.

I give him a little tour and for the second time he offers to help with some minor odd jobs. I laugh and tell him he doesn’t need to. Up in my bedroom he grabs my breasts from behind and then there we are.

He tells me to lie face down on the bed and watches as I swing my legs with the heels still on. I undo the crotch of my body, he pulls my knickers down and quick as a flash his tongue is between my legs.

This is a far cry from what he’s just told me and I’m struggling to catch up. His fingers caress my clit and I pull off my bra. Somehow he’s already naked and I admire his chest and arms. He asks me what I want and all I can manage to say is “fingers” so he thrusts one inside me. I moan and rise up to get purchase, propping myself up with a pillow under my ass. He asks if I want his cock and I giggle.

He knows I always do, even though penetration isn’t his thing. But to feel his cock inside me is all I need. He pulls out very quickly, going down on me again and then repeating.

I know already I’m not going to come. His about face has confused me but I’m enjoying his attention on me and I feel sexy. But I’ve been really greedy and wanked alone earlier with my vibe. I don’t tell him that.

Next he is furiously wanking – reader he won’t even let me touch his beautiful solid dick because he is in the zone. He kneels over me and again I lust over his chest, arms and thighs towering over me.

He can’t come either. He gets me to play with myself – something I don’t really enjoy but want to turn him on. I’m still wearing the heels. I grab my breast with my other hand and he catches on, doing the same when I let go.

It’s a hot night and we both stop to catch our breath. We are both sweating and I can smell his smell on me. He asks if he can have a shower. But soon realises my handheld one isn’t going to work for him.

He says he has to get home. Clothes go on. I see him out of the door. And again, the little time I have with him is not enough.

I can’t read him at all when I meet him: he’s quiet, polite and possibly not an axe murderer. He offers me a drink as soon as I get there and we do the chit chat you do when you don’t know where the evening might end.

After one drink I’m thinking that he’s just not that into me, I ask if he wants another one. And then he says “shall we go and play” which is a clear signal that oh my god it’s on.

He has previously sent me a photo of his bag of tricks which to me was like catnip. My only proper master lives a very long way away and I wanted someone real to experiment with, not a faux Dom.

We take a short train ride then walk to his place. I’m really glad I changed into a mesh body which shows off my boobs but not too brazenly.

His place is probably the most stylish I’ve ever seen a man inhabit. Bespoke wooden floors, cabinets and interior. But this ain’t Homes and Gardens.

I’m waiting for him to make a move, but he wants to make me a drink. I sit on a leather swivel chair in the lounge and spin around. I’m hoping he might pin me to it.

Instead he sits opposite me on the sofa, one leg up. Dammit.

I get up and sit beside him feeling stupid. Is he going to make a move? I think I ask for the loo and then when I come out he’s somewhere in the bedroom so I go through to take a look. It’s huge and stylish and all very bare – no art on the walls anywhere.

Although who cares. I’m here to be fucked. He tells me to get undressed so I do but leave my underwear on. He lays me down on the bed and places two leather shackles around my wrists, clipping them together. Oh my.

He teases me a little, running his hand over my body and nudging my pussy a little with his cock. Which seems oddly flaccid. And then my pants are peeled off and his mouth is on my pussy. Oh my, he knows his way around. I’m very close to coming. And then : turn over. He asks if I want to be spanked and I giggle. Flogger or paddle – I choose flogger.

I’m on all fours with him behind me. He teases first, running it down from the nape of my neck down to my bum. And then it comes. He’s soft at first but increases the pressure gradually and the area he’s covering. My rear smarts.

After a few strikes, he arranges my knickers and runs his entire hand over them – I guess to check how wet I am. I’m certainly ready to go.

He unhooks my wrists next and pushes my head down to his cock, telling me “no hands”. Wow. I hadn’t even looked at it and now I’m right up close. It’s totally shaven and hard as a rock, a beautiful specimen. It fills my mouth. I really want it inside me, and he knows it.

Soon I’m riding him, he fills my pussy and I ride him as if my life depends on it. I really want to come. I get close and then he flips me over. Torture. He’s on top and it’s just as good, a perfect fuck in fact.

We switch again and I ride him to orgasm. It’s a delicious one, building up and then dying beautifully inside. He pumps his cock into my mouth and soon his milky white cum is done my throat, over my lips and dripping over his stomach. I try and clear up as best I can.

I lie there for a bit and realise I need to go. It’s been the most amazing fuck I’ve had in a while but I have no idea of telling if he wants to continue or go to sleep.

I hop up and get my knickers on, quickly dress and find my trainers. He walks me to the tube and kisses me goodbye.

I take the ride home feeling incredible smug and satisfied.

It’s rained all day. He’s grumpy. I’m grumpy. It’s my first day in a new job. I’m late arriving at his because my boss wanted to take me to the pub.

We get back to his after buying some small snacks. Always his! I let on I hadn’t eaten so he insisted I get something. He tells me to relax and eat while he gets on with some odd jobs and calls. When he sits down I leap onto him and kiss him which startles him, he thinks I’m going to bite him.

I realise he’s either nervous or busy to calm down. He chats about what he’s been up to, and bless him, asks how my day was.

Later he runs me a bath and I sink into the depths of it while he goes out on an errand next door. I do actually relax. I wonder if he’s going to come and join me but don’t want to hope for too much. I’m not even turned on and I’m pretty sure he isn’t either, he’s barely touched me.

I don’t know whether to get dressed again or get into bed. I decide to put my underwear on and wear my shirt dress as a robe. I go back down to see what he’s up to. It’s gone midnight and I am at work again tomorrow.

Finally we climb into bed together. He asks if he can spoon me and play with my boobs so I agree and take off my bra top. The warmth of him against my back is so delicious : coupled with his fingers caressing my nipples I’m actually in heaven. Being wanted, being held. These are simple things which are not regularly available to someone like me; someone who shuns relationships but falls in love with someone she meets on a swingers site.

I nuzzle into his chest and his arm enveloping me is everything I need. He asks me about my new job and I choke up. Tears roll down my face as I explain the pressure I’m feeling, the pressure of being alone and having to survive. I tell him about a project I’m working on and he tells me to come downstairs and take a look at something.

His house is always a tip, but there’s one room I’ve never seen. He pulls the door open and I gasp. There are about one hundred glass globe jars with acorn trees growing out of them: every surface is covered. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a while.

We both shiver as we go back upstairs- we return to him spooning me again. His hands go down my pants and he plays with my clit for what feels like forever. He tells me he can’t get an erection but by this point I don’t care. A sleepover is enough, the warmth of his body is enough, his attention is enough – for now.

In the morning I shower and try not to wake him. He’s promised me a lift to the station but he’s dead to the world. I kiss him and say goodbye, leaving feeling disappointed again.