Virginity Lost . . . Again

As of this past Saturday my non-existant sex life has become null and void.  Altho, I have a feeling it will become quite active again as of the following day.

I had a date.  A date that was suppose to be a mini-golfing extravaganza w/ a friendly wager involved.  However since torrential downpours and poor planning on his part did that activity in, we opted for movie watching.  At my place. 

 No good can come of a man and woman watching a movie where there is a bedroom a few feet away.  Unless you consider awkward getting to know you kisses and even more awkward, “Is he going to fuck me?” questions running thru my head something good.  I suppose in the end, it was good.  Good in the fact that my born-again virgin status has left me for the  time being. 

It started off innocently enough w/ him showing up on my door at about 9:45 in the evening.  He selected a movie of mine to watch since we seemed to have had mixed signals about who was going to be renting a movie.  Popped in the movie and away we went.  It wasn’t like the movie theatres where you yell at a person behind you yacking away about nothing or making those movie going sounds, “oooooh,”  “ahhhhhh,”  “NO! Don’t go in there you fucking idiot!!”  But we only managed to shut up for about 20 minutes of almost 2 hour movie.  The time in between the quiet he spent picking on me.  Or mimmicking me, as he says.  Either way, it was fun and I can’t complain.

After the movie ended the very inevitable, “Are we going to fuck?” resounded thru my head loudly.  Loud enough for me to make the first move and bust out my Bite Me necklace.  I love being bitten, so this helped get his mouth in the right position for kissing me.  We played around w/ that for awhile before I worked our way to my bedroom. 

He had me pushed up against my bed.  My bare breasts in his hands.  His mouth doing torturous things to my neck. My hands stripping him of his shirt. We climbed aboard the bed and he wasted no time in getting my pants off, his fingers up my cunt and his mouth on my clit.  I like a man who goes down on me from the very beginning.  (Altho, I do like a man who’ll eat my pussy like a champ after he’s pumped me till I’m frothing and laps up all the juice he helped to cause.)

After a few raging minutes of me trying unsuccessfully to avoid his mouth and the pleasure he was giving me, he came up for air.  He kissed me.  I do so enjoy tasting myself on a tongue.  I can lick and lap at it all I want w/out fear of feeling like I’m depraved that I want to taste myself.  

I unbuckled his belt.  I freed his cock.  At this time, I learned the man does not own a shaving implement to help control the landscape.  However, I did not let this deter me. I forged on and pushed his pants down his hips.  He then moved to the side and frantically tore his pants and SpongeBob Squarepants boxers off.  I, of course, did the obligatory kissing down his body before I greedily swallowed his cock.  I love the taste of cock.  Especially since I’ve deprived myself of it for so long.  (And have been deprived of it by another.)

I bobbed, I weaved, I swirled.  I sucked, I fucked. I stroked and fondled.  I did everything I remember doing back when I was a blow job giving queen.  I was loving his moans.  His groans of satisfaction.  His, “you’re killing me,” “you’re driving me crazy,” pleasure driven chatter.   I wanted to give it all. I wanted to take it all. 

However my pussy was yelling for attention.  It had been so long feeling that first sure stroke.  And I had minutes to wait.  I don’t know if he needed time to recouperate from the tongue lashing I so richly enjoyed … or if he was as unsure of having sex as I was. 

He spanked my ass. He pulled my hair.  He ran his fingertips down my back.  He bit my neck. He licked my lips.  I turned around and had him spooning me.  I could feel his hard cock trying to search out my pussy.  I arched into him trying to line him up. Hoping upon hope he’d get the picture. 

I turned on my back, placed my leg over his. He thrust his hips and ……… OMG!  He felt so damn good!  I wanted that feeling to stay forever. I love the feeling of having something sliding into me for the first time.  It never gets any better than that.  (Ok, except for that hard driving pounding that only doggy style can give me.) He started fucking me.  And I mean fucking me.  But evidently that wasn’t a good enough position.

He threw my leg over his shoulder and got on his knees.  He fucked me ruthlessly. I was helpless. I loved it.  He laid his weight on top of me. Driving the breath from me as he stroked and ravaged my tight cunt.   I was almost head over heels for this man who was giving what my neglected pussy has been needing for well over a year.   And then he came.

I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted more. I wanted assorted positions. I wanted the thrashing I had been craving for what seems like forever.  I wanted more sweat. I wanted screaming. (Mine, of course.) And pleading, begging.  Some more spanking. A lot more hair pulling. 

But it had been 2 months for him.  I suppose I should cut him a break.  He laid there breathing hard and praising my fellatio skills.  Telling me he’s sorry he didn’t last that long.  I felt way too good.   I’ve heard all this before but coming from him. . . . I’ll take it as it was meant to be: a compliment.

I’ll have to wait to see if this has a to be continued after it.

Giddy, Wetness Because of a Shirt? A Shirt??

Monday OM came back to work from being off for the better part of the previous week due to sickness.  And upon his return he just happen to be wearing something I find extremely attractive on a man.  Something of the working stiff kind.   A dressy white button down shirt. . . tucked into navy blue dress pants.   The pants can be pretty much anything . . . but it’s the shirt… My god is it the shirt!

Now, I haven’t received an email from him since  early last week, even tho I tried to find out how he was when he was off.  So I was kinda thinking along the, “oh, he’s not interest anymore. . . His wife and him are back on better terms. . . yadda yadda yadda.”  And then I emailed him Monday night to let him know that  I liked what he was wearing during the  day and that there is something extremely sexy about unbuttoned collars (on dress shirts.)   Tuesday he didn’t wear anything but the usual sweater over a polo, so I figured he didn’t get my email.  Now last night, he emailed me about the white dress shirt, but I didn’t get it till today – no idea he read it . . . But I had an inkling when I saw him today wearing another white button down shirt w/ black dress pants.   My face was beaming.  I had a smile from ear to ear.   I couldn’t help but feel completely giddy for the rest of the day; that he possibly wanted me to be happy.  And happy I was.  Altho, when I read the email he sent me last night today, I guess he wanted me to be more than just happy. . . He wanted something else . . . And he got it.  Oh yeah, he got it.

OM: I just got done ironing another white shirt for tomorrow.  Your pussy should be wet all day

He got his wish . . . And I’m getting mine for Friday.  Yes, I made a request of him.  He has this black suede button down shirt that he wears w/ jeans and lets it untucked.   He knows that I’m into textures. I love feeling things.  Like his coat. I didn’t think about it until after I told him I like the feel of it, but the more I do, the more it reminds me of a man’s cock.  Soft and silky.  Minus the hardness, but soft and silky nonetheless.   This is what his black suede shirt reminds me of too.  Kind of.  But I won’t really know until I touch it.  Touch him. While he’s wearing it.  And I think he knows him wearing it is going to make me itchburnyearn to touch it.  I even told him I’ll have to touch him.  I just hope he doesn’t think I need something soft on him to actually touch him.  Because I’m sure I could find something about his body that will satisfy my need for touch. 

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On a side note: I’ve been sitting here after reading that email, thinking.  I’ve had dreams about kissing him.  And I would love nothing more than to feel his lips on mine, his tongue delving into my mouth, trading breath for breath.  But, I don’t think I could handle it.  I know if I ever kissed him, I wouldn’t want to stop.  I don’t know if I’m scared he won’t live up to his dream self.  Or if he’ll totally surpass it.  Wow, I wouldn’t be able to handle that.   Because kissing, kissing leads to so many other things.  I don’t feel a Pretty Woman is needed, because I don’t feel that kissing is personal/private, shared between lovers.  

But because I’d want to feel his cock sliding in between my pussy lips, like his tongue sliding in between my other lips.  But he’s already said that sex was out of the question between us.  (However, having him lick my pussy and ass is totally not.  Nor is his dick in my mouth.  Or his come.)  He said sex between us would lead to feelings. His or mine, I’m not sure…And, I tried to make him believe me that I’m not wired that way . . . But, I don’t know.  I don’t want to just settle for his tongue on my clit, in my cunt.  I don’t want to just settle for his dick on my tongue, in my mouth.   I don’t want to just settle for tasting his come w/ out being able to taste my pussy juice on him. 

I know, I’m a pushy, greedy broad.