Monday, February 4, 2008

A new lover with all the right moves

It's been years since I picked up a guy in a bar to take home and fuck. It's risky and, to tell the honest truth, I hate the feel of a condom. So I tend to vet my lovers over time, looking for men with an upper-middle class background, limited number of lovers, well-educated, smart and funny -- and they like women. Unlike most women, I can also perform extensive background checks on them. Hey, all's fair...

So it's been with Chris, a man I met at a dinner party hosted by my pal Mary Beth. I wasn't looking for a new relationship, after my fling with Mike blew up my last one. I was looking for a new lover. Chris and I went for drinks, then we went to a gallery opening. I was instantly attracted, and that only grew. He is handsome in a broad-shouldered, 1940s male moviestar way, rather than in the emaciated, androgenous post-modern pattern.

We went to see a bad movie on Friday night, and both of us knew this would be "the night." So when he invited me back to his place, I went willingly. It was a highrise condo with a spectacular view of the city. He played Coleman Hawkins on the stereo. The lights were low, and the wine subtle and knowing. He took his time on the sofa, kissing me lightly, then pulling me into his arms for fuller, deeper tongue-wrestling. My God, it felt good to be held.

In his bedroom, we went through all the courses for the first round of orgasms. He gently undressed me while I unbottoned his shirt and ran my hands across his broad chest. Then he laid me back and gave me a sublime tongue-lashing, just the way I like to get it, slow, attentive to every part of my pussy, licking my perineum, probing deep inside me with his tongue, circles on my clit growing more urgent and powerful. I had one orgasm quickly, followed my a very powerful second one.

I was already wrung out, my legs just limply draped over his shoulders. He stood and finished undressing. Against the ambient light of the city coming in the large windows, I could see his cock hovering over me. I reached down and stroked it, felt the soft skin and rock hardness. The big head made me gasp as he entered me. He eased slowly into me, then started giving me a proper fucking in the missionary style. My feet started burning. I raised my legs and took him deeper, moaning and screaming for more.

He had an angelic smile as he fucked me. My kind of man. Some men fuck you with expressions like they're lifting large heaps of junk out of their pickup trucks, or with blank macho masks. Not Chris. I could tell he liked me.

I rolled him over and got on top, sliding down his body, lightly rubbing my nipples against his chest. He pulled me up and licked and sucked them, getting me explosively hot all over again. Then I moved down and felt that exquisite cockhead push inside me again. Now it was my show, as I rode him with increasing abandon. When I came this time I had my arms around his neck and was afraid I would wrench his head off, it was that powerful. He moaned loudly and I felt his dick pulse inside went on an on. Then we lay still, the enchanted metropolitan light flowing across us.

We fucked three times that night and five over the next two days. It was a good weekend.


Anonymous said...

Wow! You sure have a way with words. There's some very erotic images in my mind now, thanks to you!

Randy said...

Very fine, but pray tell, what's a duck pulse?

Linda Sue said...

That's my bad typing from a weekend of hard duck, er, dick

Rogue said...

Marvelous. Your sensual evening has me thick and pulsing. Meow.

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