I met him at a concert a few nights earlier, we were hot for each other but he’d disappeared early – he’d drunk too much and didn’t want to embarass himself. I was a bit glad. I was nervous after many years of not fucking anyone.
But he’d given me his number, so I got the courage and organised to hook up on a Sunday afternoon. I was super new in town, knew about 3 people, so felt the freedom of anonymity. He had been there for 10 years, so he suggested we go to the big park overlooking the city.
We sat for a while, talking, overcoming the nerves – he whistled bird noises when he was nervous. I thought it was because we were in the park, but it continued when we walked back to the city centre.
I invited him home. My housemate was away, so I wanted to take advantage of the privacy.
We grabbed a bottle of red on the way home and eat, nervously, like teenagers playing at adults. He drinks faster than I know he wants to.
As soon as we finish eating, he leans over and kisses me. It’s awkward, but gentle. He’s shaking. I’m not, but am nervous as fuck.
Believe me, fuck is nervous.
The undressing is slow – lots of kissing, lots of gradual taking of clothes. His warm skin is so warm and we stay on the couch outside – it adds to the sexual tension. I know that no-one can see us, but the sounds of insects and neighbours washing their dishes heightens our senses and everything feels amazing. My nipples, bare to the night air, are so hard it hurts.
I climb up on him, looking down at his lovely face and I realise that, even after years, it’s just like it used to be. Like riding a bike.
Seriously, that’s what i think to myself as I slide onto and start riding his firm, slightly-large and wonderful dick.
I remember how good this is – damn, it’s like riding a bike! I think. And have to stop myself from laughing out loud at my own ridiculousness.
I pay attention again and get caught up in the rhythm of fucking. We run out of room, he has to lay down on the couch and I stay on top. We switch a couple of times – give each other some fun in moving it around. And then we head in for the home stretch. I’m back on top, all the while thoroughly enjoying myself, him and we come. Together.
I don’t even know him all that well, but we hold onto each other for a full minute in mutual ecstasy. It was beautiful.
And then, as i come back into real time, I realise with glaring clarity that I now want him to leave. I just want to have a shower, go to bed and not see him again.
I don’t have any shame. Nor do I resent him – I enjoyed myself, but, despite the nice chatter, I only want to fuck him for that one night and I don’t want him to stay.
He starts holding my hand, wanting to snuggle and I turn cold. I feel awful, but I just don’t want to get close to him. I tell him that I think he should leave now. I call him a cab and I give him a twenty to cover it.
I repeat to him that I had a nice time (I really did), and I greatfully shut the door on two confused faces.