I was already in my car and on my way to the hotel when I got his text. "Rm 139 next to the restaurant, corner room by the pool." It's so nice to get some information to help me find the room besides just the room number. It saves me from having to drive or walk all around the place. It was a warm afternoon on what had been a busy day. I was grateful for anything that made it a little easier.
My mind was still running a hundred miles an hour in a million directions. Home. Work. Alibi. Did I defrost the chicken for dinner? Why didn't I get gas yesterday? As I got to the room and knocked on the door, it slowed down, but it didn't stop. I wish I had made the time to pick up some massage oil. I didn't bring any lube either. Damn! Wait, I don't think I'll need it. T opened the door and smiled and for just a moment everything stopped. His smile is truly disarming. Whatever I had been thinking about or planning to say just faded away. I stepped in and we kissed. It was nice, but brief because my mind started running again.
I dropped my purse and excused myself to the bathroom. I thought that if I washed up a little I might be able to pull myself into the present moment. I cleaned up and took a few deep cleansing breaths. Better already.
I stepped back into the room and he walked over to me, slid his hands around my waist and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, both gentle and demanding, and that was all it took. Everything outside the room was gone. There was only him, that moment, that room, that kiss.
I slid my hands over his forearms and then slowly up his biceps to his shoulders. My god he has strong arms and shoulders! That's one of the things I first noticed about him on the day we met. It's one of the features of his body that I really love, not my favorite thing, but close. We stood there kissing for awhile, giving me time to caress his arms some more. Eventually, he slid a hand between my legs and rubbed me through my pants.
That's when the mixed emotions settled in. Once he started touching me down there, I couldn't give his kisses and arms my full attention anymore, but I wanted more of that nice feeling. I slipped out of my pants and panties and he obliged. I started pulling off his t-shirt (a San Francisco Giants t-shirt, by the way, because he's not stupid and I know how to pick my men) and he helped me. I commented on his fabulous choice in shirts, and he smiled as he threw it to the floor.
That's one of the things I love about hot sex with lover, and this one, in particular. The clothes get peeled off and tossed aside wherever they may fall. That's part of the turn on. Any guy who starts folding his clothes and placing them neatly on the table or the dresser before coming back to me would lose me because my ADHD would pull my brain away from him to thoughts of laundry and that load that was in the dryer when I left the house. Not only that, I'd think he was weird. Seriously, if you'd rather fold clothes than touch my woohoo, yeah, you're weird. Anyway.....
Then I was thoroughly enjoying what he was doing with my clit and losing myself in his kisses (truly amazing kisser, this one) and expanding my exploration of his body from his arms and shoulders to his chest. Within about 30 seconds I was on sensory overload.
"Let's get in bed," I suggested. He smiled and agreed. The next 15 seconds were a rush of pulling off the remaining clothes and climbing into bed.
He leaned over me and kissed me and reached his hand between my legs again. I had been with him enough that he knew his way around. He knew exactly how to touch me to make me moan, exactly how to kiss me to make me want him even more. It wasn't long before I came the first time. I screamed into his mouth and bucked against his hand, riding it as long as I could.
I never could come down, though, because he didn't stop. When I first experienced this with him it was unsettling. I was typically used to at least a little recovery time, even 30 seconds would do, but he liked charging forward, stroking on every highly sensitized nerve and pushing me through the pain of that to even more pleasure. I was ready for it, and I surrendered to it, still kissing him the whole time. When I came the second time, I felt it throughout my entire body. I don't remember much except focusing on the sensations pulsating through me and how it felt when he slid his fingers inside me.
I wish I were a better writer. I wish I could find the words to describe how that feels physically and how it feels emotionally to experience that with someone you really care about. No matter how hard I've tried, I have failed to capture it accurately. Maybe it's one of those things that isn't meant to be talked about or written about, but just experienced - a sensory and emotional experience meant to be shared by two people. When it's good, when you really have chemistry with that other person, it changes you a little every time. The woman who walks out of that room isn't the same one who walked in. And it's a good difference.
After I came for the third time (or was it the fourth?), we stopped for a bit and I snuggled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, tracing my finger across his chest while we talked, kissed, talked, and kissed some more.
I love stroking his chest while we lay together. He's a strong, solid man. Yes, he's very bright, too, which you know is a requirement for me, but he's also very physical, which is an overwhelming turn on. He has short dark hair, much shorter than it was when I met him, but longer than it was a month ago. Now it's just long enough for me to run my fingers through it, which I love to do. He's clean shaven, although by the time I see him in the afternoons he's usually got a little stubble, which I also love. He's taller than me (heck, who isn't?) but not really tall - the perfect height for standing in front of him and kissing without having to stand on my tippy toes and keep my face turned straight up all the time until I get dizzy and lose my balance.
I'll save the rest of the description for another time because as much as I loved what we were doing, I could feel that he was hard and I wanted to taste him. I started re-positioning myself and I asked if it was ok if I enjoyed his cock for a while. He smiled and said, "You know what I want," and I nodded, indicating that yes, indeed, I knew exactly what he wanted right at that moment.
I took his hard cock into my mouth and suckled slowly for a minute or two, enjoying the taste of him and assessing which movements and pressure points got the most response. Every now and then he'd moan and I'd feel my pussy twitch. It was almost like a dance. His responses - a moan, a thrust of his hips, a pull of my hair - elicited more excitement in me which made me suck harder and deeper, and that made him moan more, thrust faster, pull my hair harder.
Hair pulling is incredibly sexy and the one sure way to make me crazy (in a good way). I have no idea how or why my scalp is connected to my pussy, but apparently it is. I'd take a deep breath and dive down, swallowing the head of his cock and he'd grab a big handful of hair and pull me up off him, just so I could struggle against him to get his full cock back in my mouth again. Sometimes the best I could do was just to get to the tip, other times I did better. Sometimes he'd just release me and the momentum of my own pulling downward would force me to fall on him, with his head forcing is way into my throat. Other time's he'd surprise me by pulling my hair up and then, instead of releasing me either slowly or quickly, he'd push my head down onto him and hold me there, so all I could do was hold my breath and just fuck him with my throat, swallowing repeatedly. It was on one of those times that he finally released into my throat, coming so much that I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn't choke.
As if I wasn't turned on enough by the whole experience, when he groaned loudly as he came, it felt like I was pushed over an edge and I felt myself starting to come. My cunt was contracting and I felt those pleasure chemicals starting to release, but it startled me and elicited just enough resistance to stop it. That was confusing. I've experienced coming just from nipple stimulation before, and I've experienced getting so turned on by giving head (with this same man) that all it took was about 5 seconds of touching me to make me come, but I had never come before without any external stimulation below the neck. This was the first surprise of the afternoon.
I was so shocked by it that I didn't tell him. I don't know why I didn't, probably because it was so strange for me that I didn't really know how to express what happened. I was also disappointed in myself for not going with it and seeing how far it would go.
After I had swallowed the last drop he had for me, I scooched back up to where I could curl up in his arms again. Things had been changing for me recently where this man was concerned. We were supposedly fuck buddies, of sorts, I suppose. He made it clear to me six months ago that he didn't want to feel anything for me and he didn't want me to feel anything for him. We even stopped seeing each other for a month or so over that issue.
The rules hadn't changed, but the situation did. Feelings were involved now, for both of us. For me, that makes the sex better, much, much better. Everything was more intense. We were both a bit less inhibited, not that we were very sexually inhibited before but there's a price you pay for emotional inhibition. You can't be locking your emotions down without experiencing a corresponding inability to completely surrender yourself to the physical pleasure. I've come to understand that the physical/sexual and emotional parts of ourselves are intimately connected. Sure, you can have really good sex without letting your emotions out of their tightly locked box, but you can't have great sex that way. You can't break through to real shared intimacy - at any level - without letting yourself feel something.
It's hard to explain this to people, particularly to men, not because they are incapable of emotion, but because they are socialized to think that emotion comes with responsibilities. Many think, deep down, that "if I love you, then I'll have to take care of you and I don't want that responsibility," or "I can't open up to you because that will mean that I really don't love my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife," or "If I let you into that soft emotional place inside me, that would be a betrayal to my wife/girlfriend/ex-wife."
It saddens me to think of the intimacy, joy, and pleasure that we deny ourselves because of what we think it will mean. Why can't we just let it be what it is? If you don't want to make major changes in your every day life, fine. The beauty of experiencing real intimacy with someone is that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but you may surprise yourself and find that you like it, and that you want keep peeling those layers of resistance away so you can experience more of it. Or not, and that's good, too. Why can't we make our own rules? Why can't we decide what it means for us?
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that I was experiencing our sexual encounter differently because of the increased level of intimacy. It was a wonderful and positive difference, and every kiss was a little sweeter. Heck, I started to come from giving a blow job. That's definitely a good difference. Wouldn't you agree?
Back to room 139....We kissed more and talked more, and a few minutes later he said with a wicked smile, "It's my turn," and he started moving down between my legs.
To be continued......