The Art Director

We grapple in the hallway of my house, I’ve already told him I’m not wearing a bra so he’s very quick to slip down the shoulders of my lace body and grab my breasts. I think he puts them in his mouth and then does a comedy motorboat.

(This bit is hazy as I’ve already had three glasses of wine)

I’ve made him laugh in the pub by asking after the first glass if he has to be drunk to fuck.

(In my head this is a perfectly legitimate question to ask for someone who has been married to and dated several serial alcoholics. Later, he tells me it’s the sexiest thing I said)

He says no.

I then ask if he wants to fuck me.

He says yes.

(I know right? This is the new – I’ve just watched “I’m so Pretty”and I’m feeling empowered- me)

Back at the house I get some more wine – I don’t need it but he has asked. This triggers alarm bells but it’s something to do to stop mauling each other. An appetiser except liquid. I sit astride him for a bit on the sofa in the lounge but it’s all going a bit quick and I take it upstairs.

He’s a really good kisser. My lips are still sore from his stubble but god he can kiss. Just the right angle, pressure and pace. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been kissed so well. My pussy twitches. A lot.

Upstairs clothes are removed. Again, it’s a little hazy but soon there is complete nakedness and his cock is in my mouth. It’s a good one reader, it’s making all the right moves and is so clean I could eat my dinner off it. He’s groaning a lot and watching me suck him, I’m trying to finger my own pussy at the same time. He asks for a condom and off we go.

I feel a bit like a puppy for a change – I can’t get the right position and we clash and bash each other about as unrhythmically as some bad jazz.

As it’s been a while for me I try not to overthink it all too much, and go with it. His hands are all over me which is enough. A body unseen, unadmired, uncaressed is worthless.

I can tell he’s lost his erection – the drink and the time probably contributing. Luckily my mouth brings him back to life and we manoeuvre into a position again.

Like dancers learning the choreography we move this time in unison – our song melodic this time. Nothing jars.

I’m on top and I feel like I’ve come. I make all the right noises but it feels a bit hollow, like I haven’t had a full one. It does feel amazing though, like a release of four months worth of frustration. He groans and asks me to suck him again.

There is very little reciprocal oral from him: at one point he roughly fingers me and wets them before entering but that’s as far as he goes. I wonder if my new full bush has put him off.

4 condoms, a white and red bottle of wine, an Uber eats delivery at midnight later and I’m riding him again. He keeps telling me to slow down and it’s about the hottest thing in the world. I’m barely moving crouched on top of him but it feels ridiculously good as I’m almost eating his face off.

This time I come hard, and loudly. But not as loud as him about 2 minutes later. Two very long drawn out groans and then he sheepishly gives me the full condom and asks where to put it.

——

He leaves at around 1.30am. I have to retrieve his clothes for him. I mercilessly take the piss out of him for wearing a jumper with a fake shirt collar.

He’s done exactly what he needed to do: broken my drought in a really enjoyable way with very little fallout.

But I’m still hungry for more.

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