I went on a date the other night. We worked together on a project a few months ago and had kept in contact. Flirting innocently through social media. We had stopped communication. Occupied otherwise with our prospective careers and ventures. Until the other night. He texted quite late, inviting me to a midnight showing of some abstract film. We met up at the bar an hour later. He already had a martini waiting for me. Gently wrapping his arm around my waste for a hug.
I was ignited by his sexy smile and his sweet Australian accent. We went into the theater after catching up. It was a long movie that we awkwardly held hands through. It was not comfortable, I felt like I was in high school again, wanting to touch the person I admire, but unsure on how to reach out, too awkward to adjust and too inexperienced to take control. So there we sat, grasping each other’s hands as if we couldn’t release for fear of emotionally wounding the other. My initial thought was, “ok this is cute, but weird… but cute.” Toward the end of the movie he turns to kiss me and we make out for a while. I have to admit that redeemed him from a very juvenile date. After the movie ended we grabbed another drink. The conversation seamlessly flowing from analyzing the film to exploring our thoughts on intergenerational memories. I was impressed. He kept up, kept me interested, and kept me wanting.
So skillfully I invited him to my place. He was more than happy to oblige.
We got to my room and cuddled casually continuing our discussions. It felt comfortable and easy. And I knew where this was all heading. It had been some months since my last decent fuck and I had a craving to be filled.
He turns to me and we begin to make out. What I loved about this was his desire to make out. This vital piece of the process is so often left out when engaging with the less evolved lover. But he was into it. The more we made out the warmer I became and the louder my pussy throbbed.
He undressed me and I felt his beautiful cock. A handful of his uncircumcised cock made me beg for it.
It was right as I begun to increase my desire when things began to take a turn. He played with my pussy with his hands as mine were tight around his cock. I was waiting for him to take the dive and devour me entirely...but he never did. Time passed and I thought to myself, “perhaps he is hyper vigilant when it comes to protection and STI’s I respect that. Then he turned over on top of me and went to enter me with no condom.
Now, at this point I was both immensely aroused and annoyed. I just can’t seem to understand why someone is totally ok with fucking me without a condom (and without a conversation about my status)....but won’t eat my pussy!? It honestly baffles me.
I stopped him and gave him a condom. I could see the look of dismay on his face. I could feel his restlessness as he slipped it onto his cock. However, he behaved and slipped it on, and slipped inside of me.
At first it was delicious. A deep, slow rhythmic pace. I could feel all of him entering me, slowly bringing himself to the top, resting there and pulling out. From his size, to his rhythm… I was stimulated. My cervix was enveloped, my shoot tickled. I bit his arm as he plunged deeper and deeper into me with every thrust. This was what I’d been missing so much throughout the months.
But it continued, at this same...slow...pace. I had my fill of this lusciousness and became ravenous for more. I began to squirm and all I wanted was for him to fuck me. I encouraged him to go faster, to thrust harder...but all he gave me was this slow, steady, pace. I became bored of it. I couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t take my advice to fuck my pussy out of existence.
I became frustrated and switched position. I wanted it from behind. I figured no one can resist a good hard fuck from behind, especially with my fat ass at his disposal.
But still, slow, boring, then very soon...soft.
He pulled out and apologized, he blamed the condoms, to which my response was “it takes practice.” He admitted to not getting tested frequently, so at that point there was nothing more to do.
I was filled up and at least that was half of what I was searching for. The next morning we awoke after falling asleep quite fast. He got dressed and I walked him to the door. He looked half ashamed and half “I don’t give a fuck.” He gave me a friendly hug and left my apartment.
On one hand he filled me up and provided decent conversation and delicious make outs...but on the other he could not fuck me into oblivion, he could not reach beyond himself to compliment my beauty, and he could not find it in his skinny little bones to eat my pussy.
Momentary gratification, yet still deeply dissatisfied.
I need a monster to devour me, fuck me, adore me, and worship. I don’t have time for these little boys anymore. It was a good fuck gone wrong.
