Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Eve tastes the apple, or at least two men
I passed on a New Year's Eve party that I knew would be dull, and went down to the bar district near my apartment. The first place was packed but I could feel the eyes on me when I walked in, wearing a black leather miniskirt and leather jacket. I ordered a martini and gave the polite brushoff to several men.
Then a guy came up and introduced himself as Max. He was older and distinguished-looking, not at all like the young crowd. I let him buy my second drink. We talked above the din and the people kept crowding in, drawing us closer. He was big and masculine and I was attracted to him.
I let his hand linger on my arm...I'm a toucher myself. His ring finger bore the imprint of a removed wedding band. And pretty soon he dropped down to my leg. Just the lightest touch on my knee. I kept talking. He was a good listener. And that hand eased up inside my thigh. I could feel myself getting wet and even in the bar I could smell my scent. He could, too, and smiled knowingly. I opened my legs.
I turned more to face him and he found my pussy, then my clit, and just kept rubbing me through the pantyhose. It's a good thing the drink was down on the bar when I shuddered and came. I gave a whimper and the others around us looked at me. I could tell I was flushed.
"Let's go to your place," he whispered in my ear. "Not tonight," I said. He smiled and shook his head and handed me his card. An OB-GYN, no less. We parted soon after.
It's been years since I me a full-service lover in a bar. For a variety of reasons, I don't do that. But I do like being out, being noticed favorably by men (and women), and sometimes letting things go a ways. Facing the end of 2007, I was fighting against a clingy, horny, bitersweet fuck-me-tonight mood.
An hour later I was in another place, very trendy, being hit on by this gorgeous young black man. His name was Jared and we danced. I could feel his cock hard against me as we shimmied against each other. He was athletic with a fine, sculpted angular face. We kissed deeply and he lightly bit my tongue. His hands caressed my hard nipples through my blouse.
He wanted me to go home, too, but I didn't do it. I can't say why not. We did end up in his BMW where I give him a blowjob. No stereotypes: his cock was average, but very nice, and he came with a strong stream and lots of semen -- just the way I like it. And like a lot of men, he was surprised and a little resistant when I rose up and French kissed him, sharing his come with him. But he went with it and swallowed some.
After all that, he was angry that I wouldn't go home and fuck him. But I didn't. He got out of the car and screamed after me, calling me names. I walked up the street and watched the fireworks off the Space Needle. Men are such a mystery.