Thursday, February 24, 2011

Weekend away with an ex...

Reconnected with an ex after 5 or so years, we'll call him MR. We live several hours away from each other but get together every couple of months. It's usually an escape for him into my world, but this time we both thought we needed a change of scenery. We decided to get away on Valentine's weekend of all times, which was slightly ironic since we aren't dating but it's what worked the best in our schedules. Found a cute little boutique hotel, halfway between where each of us lives.

When we arrive, we hear that there were some issues with the room that we had originally booked so we were upgraded to a suite. A nice touch, until we walk in and realize there are 2 double beds instead of the originally requested king. Not ideal but workable. We had a bit of time to kill before dinner.

He kisses me and I fall back onto "my" bed. His hands in my hair, my hands on his back, my legs wrapped around him. We suddenly found our clothes to be too constraining and began stripping them off.

Neither of us look as good as we did when we were 19 but the passion, the need to fuck is still there. For the longest time I considered him to be my most amazing past lover. While a few experiences have kicked him out of the top spot, he's definitely still high on the list.

We hadn't seen each other in a while, so we didn't get terribly creative. Once the clothes were off, I had him stand up so I could take his cock into my mouth as I stayed lying in bed. He was already hard, and began to fuck my mouth. I fingered my pussy to get myself ready for him.

When his thrusts started to become a bit too aggressive for my mouth to handle, I suggested he move to something he could thrust as hard as he wanted to. He suited up and stayed standing. I moved my ass to the edge of the bed and put my ankles on his shoulders and he dove right into me, deep, slow thrusts. I relished in the feeling of being full, as it had been since New Year's that I had been fucked properly.

He leaned over me and quickened his pace. He took an ankle in each hand, spreading my legs open and using me for balance. I loved the look on face, the sign that he needed to be buried deep in my cunt just as much as I needed him there. His pace became steady as he edged closer to orgasm. I fingered my clit to send me over the edge and the spasms of my pussy around his cock sent him there as well. With one final deep thrust I felt his cock empty into the condom. He pulled out and collapsed on the other bed. We both needed that.

We had an excellent dinner and then walked a bit too far to get to a bar where my friend is the manager. At the bar, MR made some comment along the lines of "We are going to fuck each other stupid when we get back to the room right?" Of course.

My friend treated us well and we drank far too much and would have been plenty warm to walk home but clearly that was going to take too long so we decided to take a cab back. I'm pretty sure his hands would have been in my pants in the back of the cab if I hadn't been wearing so many layers due to the cold.

He started kissing me in the elevator and down the hallway. We stripped as soon as we got back to the room. I sat on the bed and he dove head first in to my cunt, devouring me as though I were his last meal. It wasn't the most focused of actions, but I was so turned on at this point that it didn't matter. I grabbed at his hair as I came all over his face.

Now it was my turn. I made him sit where I had been, grabbed a pillow, threw it on the floor and got down on my knees. It took a little bit of convincing to get his cock fully erect due to the alcohol, but I was willing to do whatever it took cause I needed to be fucked. Hard. As soon as possible. I looked into his eyes and took as much of him into my mouth as I could and sucked hard and lo and behold, hard as a rock.

I desperately needed to be fucked from behind, so I got on all fours on the bed and put a pillow under my hips and waited.  Soon, I was rewarded with a deep thrust into my cunt that hit all the right spots.  If we had any neighbors in that hotel they had to have heard me cry out.

When I'm having sex, any inhibitions I have just seem to melt away.  I don't think about who is going to hear me or what my hair looks like or if I look fat or how messy things get or anything.  I'm just in it to please and be pleased.  Appearances don't matter when I'm fucking, mine or the person (people?) I'm with.

I reached my hand between my legs to rub my clit as he grabbed my hips and just pounded away, exactly what I needed.  I thought to myself that MR and I never really fucked this way and that we should start doing so more often because it felt perfect.  I pushed myself over the edge with help of his cock stretching me open several times until I heard a familiar sound:  his breathing changes when he's about to come, his strokes getting more intense and deliberate.  I slowly begin to bring myself to another climax, determined to hold it off until he was right there with me.  I'm right on edge and having trouble staying there when I feel him lean over me, grab my hips tightly, and make a long deep thrust, moaning loudly and just staying inside me. I pinch my clit and scream from the pain/pleasure combination, my cunt spasmodic around him.   We both collapse in a heap and fall asleep almost immediately, completely sated. 

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Impromptu meetings

At the bar in the middle of the week for a special occasion: a friend that was back from overseas, visiting town for one night only.

I ignore SM when he comes in the bar, not feeling the need to pull him in to our conversation. He eventually notices me in a booth, comes over to drunkenly announce that he's going to a different bar. I explain that I'm visiting with a friend that's only in town for the night. I believe he thought I was referring to the girl friend that we were with, and thought that my guy friend was his coworker - he was that drunk. He offers to host after hours, and he leaves but not before I correct him about my friend. I told him to call me but didn't really expect him to.

He does call around 1:30, and is surprised that I'm in same place, and comes back. My friends think he's weird and ask me if he's actually foreign. I secretly wonder if everyone has the same first impression of him, but remember that he's really drunk and everyone has the same impression of drunk people. They try to sneak me away from him at the end of the night, but somehow he convinces them to give us a ride.

We take our usual chairs at his place. He looks melancholy. A serious look on his face, he says slowly, deliberately, "I'm going to keep drinking, and at best will be a mediocre lover to you. I mean, I can go down for hours, but we've never really fucked." I'm not sure how to react to these statements. He puts on music that is emotional for both of us. He feels too far away, so I kneel on the floor by his desk chair and lean my head on his shoulder. Someday he'll get a couch.

He wonders why I put up with him, I tell him it keeps life interesting. He doesn't think that's a very good answer. My reply: "There are moments that can be quite confusing, but in the sum total of everything, it's completely worth it. Is that better?"

He smiles that disarming smile that makes me melt. I sit on the floor, leaned against his propped up leg, hold his hand. The music continues. He says the song is not about me, or about him, but about loneliness. A tear runs down my cheek and he gets upset. I drunkenly get up and say "Fine, I'll go back and sit in the chair and pretend like this doesn't affect me". He scoffs and gets up as well to use the bathroom. I scream the lyrics to the song playing that seem appropriate at that moment. I never know how to feel, how to react, to be what he wants. If he even knows what that is.

Something had told me that I would end up here at the end of the night even though I hadn't really wanted to. I hadn't showered before going out, I was wearing a guy's sweater and was generally feeling unsexy. It was a Tuesday for goodness sake. I knew that I needed to work at 8am so I wanted to get some sleep but that was not to be. When we end up in bed, he's practically using his body as a weapon (an actual one, not the metaphor) in making out with me; I fear I may be bruised by errant elbows and knees. I'm normally quick to remove my clothes but since I hadn't taken that initiative he was trying really hard to reach under my shirt and not quite figuring it out. At one point I had to force myself to roll him over because I was getting smashed into the corner and was almost getting claustrophobic.

He got up to get some water and put more music on. The end of the night shots or maybe the lateness had hit me. I decided to ignore my preconceived notions of my appearance and stripped and got back under the covers. I think he was a little surprised when he got back into bed, but pleasantly so. I let myself go, allowed myself to be overtaken by his kiss, his touch.

After a few orgasms we lie quietly for moment. He's holding me, and I whisper "You're wonderful. I hope you know that." He pulls away, and I immediately regret saying it. How do I always fuck things up? Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?

He looks me straight in the eye. "You're more than wonderful. I hope *you* know that." He rolls over and lays on his back and I curl up to him, my face buried in his chest - I can't even look at him. "I don't, but it means a lot coming from you." He tilts my head up and kisses me, gently this time. As much as I love intense make out sessions, sometimes a softer kiss really gets my juices flowing.

"I like it when you kiss me the way you want to be kissed." That was news to me...I always thought it annoyed him when I would try to slow down his pace.

He begins to kiss my neck, and before I know it, he's burying his face into my cunt. It seems his favorite position is 69, and he wordlessly directs my body into achieving this position. As always I'm distracted in this position, wanting to concentrate on what I was feeling as much as what my mouth was doing on his cock. I think he got into what he was feeling even though he was only semi-hard, but then I got confused because he started fucking me with his hands instead of his tongue. After I came a few more times, I sat up so I could concentrate more on him.

I get a zone sometimes when sucking cock. Even if I know the guy I'm with is too drunk or doesn't cum from blowjobs, this doesn't deter me. I keep thinking, "Maybe just this once the stars will align and I'll know exactly what to do at the right moment to make him explode." I've always wanted to create a story like that, to leave an anecdote to be told into the future.

"I can't wait til the day when you make me cum. Because when I do it, it takes me less than a minute." This was both encouraging and discouraging at the same time. It's as though he believed that I could make him cum with my mouth...someday...but probably not right now. But if he could do it in "less than a minute", why couldn't I do it even if I'd been trying for a long time? I felt awkward, inadequate.

"One of the biggest things about sex for me is pleasing the other person, and I feel like I'm not able to do that with you."

"I almost never cum from sex. Do you really think I'm keeping track tit for tat? If so, you'd be soooo far ahead." He smiles, which makes me smile and laugh a bit. As long as he's having fun, it's all good.

We go back at it. I concentrate on the feel of his smooth cock moving in between my lips, slowly. I silently wish the music was turned down slightly so I would be able to hear his soft, barely audible moans more clearly. The better the feedback, the better the blowjob, right?

After a while he puts his hand in my hair and gently pulls me toward him and kisses me deeply. He's got a look of sleep on his face, I imagine he needed to pass out but didn't want to do so while I was pleasuring him.

We lie together, quietly, my own few moments of personal bliss. As much as I love sex, I also love the afterglow. I hear myself say "Sometimes when I don't see you for a while, I think you're a figment of my imagination. too good to be true."

He tells me to shut up, and I say no. "I hate when you tell me to shut up." He laughs and thinks it's funny but I don't want to be told to shut up when I express how I feel. I suddenly realize that his drunkenness will cause most of the evening to disappear anyway, so why be angry? I fall asleep with my hand on his chest.

In the morning it's as though nothing ever happened, no intense words, no orgasms, nothing. I often want to ask what he remembers, if anything, but never find it to be appropriate. Sometimes I wonder if he knows who is next to him when he first wakes up. Never quite sure how to handle these situations and over time, it doesn't get any easier.

Friday, February 18, 2011

A dash of romance? Nah, couldn't be.

I slept through SM's call on a Thursday. I was surprised that he called at all since I hadn't heard from him in a few weeks.

Went out with coworkers on Friday, tried finding him out at our favorite bars, and even called him around 2 with no luck. Go home to bed a lot drunk and a little sad. Get woken up by a call at 4am to a slurred "I's be calling...right now...but I need...some company." I get out of bed and make my way there to comfort him. I didn't expect him to actually talk to me about anything, I thought just being there was enough. He was upset about how some health issues had been affecting his work. We talked about it for a bit.

We go to bed shortly after. He was very sweet, wanted to cuddle. Next thing I know he's going down on me, but didn't really want me to do anything to reciprocate. He was more sensual than usual...kissing my inner thighs, using his tongue more than fingers.

As we start to go to sleep, he got upset when I told him I care about him. For some reason he thinks that the people he cares about shouldn't care back. I tell him he confuses me by being hot and cold. I recount many of the nice things he's said to me in the past, and he tells me it's all true. Yet still, when we're sober I see none of that. I don't know what to think, but it's late. We fall asleep cuddling.

I wake up in the middle of the night to put on my panties but can't find them anywhere. Sleeping without underwear just kept me wet and turned on as I was sleeping...I'm pretty sure I had some naughty dreams.

Before we went to bed, I noticed what time his alarm was set for...I happened to wake up about a half hour before that. I cuddle up to him, kiss his face, try to wake him up. The alarm sounds, he turns it off. I kiss his neck gently, then quickly dive my head under the covers and engulf his soft cock in my mouth. I enjoy how he slowly becomes hard as I lick and suck up and down his shaft. I move the blanket enough to look up at him, his eyes are closed, looking like he's in heaven. His hands slowly move to fondle my breasts and lower to my pussy that's still so wet from the night before. He wordlessly convinces my body to twist in such a way to allow him better access to my cunt without pausing my tongue's ministrations on his uncut erection. He dives in as though I were his last meal, but also very intent on getting his. He starts fucking my face and for once it's a concept I actually enjoy.

His hands and mouth work in tandem to build up the most intense orgasms inside me, and he doesn't let up until I've exploded into three or four in a row. I wonder if anyone in the house can hear me since I can't seem to be quiet. He sits up and kisses me.

"I love tasting my pussy on your lips."

He lies half on top of me, kissing me deeply. He holds me tight, his hands in my hair. I expect there to be more. I wonder aloud why his tank top is still on as I unsuccessfully try to pull it off. "Because I have to go to work soon." He moves to get up. "Kiss me first." He pauses, then leans forward to give me a slow, intense kiss, that is more satisfactory than expected.

We then get up and go about our day as if nothing had happened at all.