The Art Director again

So here he is after a few false starts. I can’t work him out and he can’t work me out. I decide a glass of wine and a chat before moving to the bedroom and he likes the idea. He sits on the sofa and I hand him a glass of red. Of course, he’s better looking than my rusty memory provides – it’s been over a month since he last came over.

A few pleasantries are exchanged and he asks me to sit next to him. I obey, like a good girl. I’m wearing stockings and suspenders just for him and I twirl so he can see before I plonk myself down. His hand goes on my knee and he moves mine to his crotch. His jeans are taught and I stroke gently, feeling him grow harder through the denim. It’s horny, especially as my other hand still has a glass of wine in it. But he speeds things up and unbuckles his belt – he can’t wait can he?

He pulls his jeans right down and pulls out his cock. Beautiful. I kneel between his legs and tease it with my lips and tongue. Red lipstick all over it.

—–

Upstairs he completely undresses and lies on the bed. He still hasn’t touched me. We kiss and I’m on top of him, I pull aside my knickers and ask him to touch me. I’m soaked. I try sliding up and down his cock without penetration but he grabs a condom. Okay then!

I ride him with my knickers pulled aside. I’m still wearing my cowboy boots and it feels fucking sexy. But our rhythm is off, we don’t co-ordinate and soon he loses it.

I try and suck him with the condom on – it doesn’t work so he removes it. I go hard and deep on his dick and soon he’s hard again. Back I go to ride him. Again, we almost clash in rhythm.

And the insecurities set in – stuff like –

Why doesn’t he ever touch my pussy?

Why does he want to fuck me so quick without forplay?

Why do I like him so much?

Why can’t I come?

Why can’t I let go?

How long has he got?

——

He comes, rather triumphantly in my mouth. I don’t make a habit of this at all, but I seem to have done it twice in one week.

When I stop he makes no effort to finish me off. We lie and chat for ages and then we fuck again.

The sex isn’t as great as it was the first time – for some reason it doesn’t have any spark. But it’s definitely better than the second time and he seem to have got a better vibe, he’s laughing and joking.

Before he leaves he shows me a dickpic he’s quite proud of. He’s an art director of course, he would be.

As he’s searching I tell him no woman wants to see an angry veiny postbox of a penis and it makes him laugh. I tell him I actually like ones of flaccidity – or if erect definitely with a hand included gripping it. His one is sideways on, blurred background and quite beautiful and I tell him to send it to “ratemydickpic.com”.

We also discuss just using an emoji if we are horny and want to fuck – he’s 10 minutes away for gods sake.

I look forward to receiving 😈 very soon.

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