I haven’t seen him in over a year. I had to wean myself off him, delete his number – you know the drill – dear reader you were there.
But when I do a random search of his old username and find him on the site I get the feels. Big time.
Before you can say anything he’s calling me at past midnight and I’m answering like the old days. We speak for about fifteen minutes which is a record. We agree to try and meet up.
I don’t get too excited : disappointment is a normality these days. Even with casual dalliances the desire to meet can quickly evaporate, and nothing ever happen. WhatsApp penpals.
We meet for a coffee in a delightful place near his place in almost a duplicate of the first time we met. I get all the feels when I see him come in. He’s grinning at me but I don’t stand up when he gets to the table and I certainly don’t make any moves. He’s full of compliments for me. I try not to fall for him all over again.
We drive around his ends and I accompany him on a few chores. He talks ten to the dozen as always, I try to keep up and absorb everything. He’s doing up a house, installing decking, painting a garden, laying turf. I guess anything to keep him busy and earning money. His hand touches my knee as he tells me about his mum in hospital. He keeps telling me he wants my opinion on a paint colour for his bedroom – it’s cheesy but I follow him upstairs hoping it might all happen again.
He’s already asked while we are downstairs if we are going to have sex – I try and keep it low key and say “let’s see how it goes.”
As I write that now I realise how cool I was. But the truth is I just didn’t feel confident or sure if I wanted to.
In the bedroom he strips off and his cock literally flops out of his jeans – he’s wearing no pants. I absolutely emoji heart eyes his cock because my god it’s huge.
I’m still fully clothed and start to coyly take my clothes off. I haven’t been fucked in two months so my confidence is low. I ask him if we can get under the covers as I have a thing about it. He starts by cupping my breast and licking it in a measured way, no sudden movements or nipping. But as soon as his fingers start to stroke my pussy over my knickers the lights are on and everyone is home. He talks to me the whole time asking what I want, what I need.
My body knows what it wants and he is giving it to me. But my mouth won’t connect to my brain. There is something about the angle of his fingers inside me which is better than anything I’ve ever felt. I’m sort of straddled on top of him, and he grabs my thighs.
He’s asking me if I want him to go down on me and I nod. We switch so I’m on my back and he’s between my legs. It’s delicious but his fingers are better – almost as if he’s read my mind he moves to stimulate my clit.
It’s his cock I crave but I know from our few previous sessions he’s not going to come from penetration. He tells me to use his cock but he won’t come inside me. This turns me on so much I wrap my lips around his head and tease him playfully.
He enters me and I moan at how good it feels. He’s still playing with my clit and I have to ask him to stop, it’s too much.
I straddle him and start to ride him, I can feel my body start to rise into its crescendo. It’s delicious. I feel him get harder and he starts to whisper what he’d like to do to me which sends me over. My orgasm is like an earth shattering explosion inside me, a huge relief. I want to laugh and cry at the same time – this ridiculous man with the messy mind and house and something wonderful which I can’t quite put my finger on or give up.
He flips on top of me and I play with his cock just as he likes it. I remember he likes having his back scratched and start to do it but he says “just hold me” which I almost weep at : the intimacy kills me. Doesn’t everyone just want to be held?
And then he grabs me and we are up into the bathroom, the shower, my hand his cock and it’s all over. His doorbell rings and he leaps away to answer. It’s never simple. I shower and go back to his room, feeling out of place now. I hunt for my socks and knickers, and then see something at the end of the bed where the duvet is.
A pair of black lace knickers.
They aren’t mine. I freeze, my arms go numb and I lose the plot.
There is no explanation in my mind for this – he probably fucked someone else right before me. The humiliation- the couple of hours we’ve spent together ruined.
I’m now dressed and boots back on, I ask if I can come down. My face feels weird and must look weird as he asks if I’m okay.
“No I’m not okay” I spit out.
“What on earth is wrong?” He asks.
“Next time you fuck someone else just take her knickers out of the bed”.
I make for the sofa where my makeup Bag is and start furiously re-applying powder and lipstick. I don’t even want to hear an explanation.
He gives me several of course – they are clean, he doesn’t usually use that bed, he hadn’t been with anyone. Who knows, do I believe him? He’s giving me a lift to the station, I have to get out of there.
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