I was drunk and he had wanted me for quite a while. He was supposed to have moved away, but suddenly he was there that night. I had already had quite a bit to drink by the time he arrived- unusual for a control freak like me, and he was happy to encourage me with more.
He was more appealing than usual, or so he seemed through my champagne-coloured glasses.
And he seemed to feel that he had the right to be clingier than usual too. There was just something unspoken between us that night that made me his. In his mind anyhow. When I went over to speak to some other men I knew at the other end of the bar he was all over me. Marking his territory in a way that these men (the presumed competition) could not mistake. This frustrated me, but not enough to dismiss him altogether.
He whispered that he wanted to leave so that we could spend some time alone together. I acquiesced and led him to my place, which was only a few blocks away. I was so tipsy that I couldn’t even get my shoes off and he had to assist.
I lay down on the couch and pulled him towards me. No longing or curiosity, simply accepting what was inevitable. There seemed to be no doubt in his mind where it was going, and I didn’t see any purpose in arguing. It had been a while after all, and he wasn’t unattractive. And I confess, the fact that he was going back to his out of town job after the weekend was a big factor in his favour. Had I known that he would decide to stay, that night may have gone a lot differently.
I crookedly led him to the bedroom and sat on the bed. “Are we really going to do this?” I asked, one final moment of doubt, knowing that I didn’t really want him, and was quite possibly taking advantage of his feelings for me. “Yes,” was his reply. It was clear that this was something that he had been wanting and thinking about for a while. It seemed silly to disappoint him.
He helped me undress, and before I knew it, he was in the same state. He was one of those guys who are only eager to please. He kept asking me what I liked, and what I wanted. However I wasn’t in the proper state to get all dominatrix on him. This was definitely going to be laying down sex by necessity.
It probably should have been painful hymen re-breaking sex too. It had been that long. However I don’t remember anything other than a vague sense of wonder at the fact that it was happening.
One thing I’ll give him – he had stamina. After a while I found myself asking him how long he could last. “A couple of hours.” Boys- 5 minutes? Not good. But two hours? I don’t know about all girls, but in a more sober state, I either start to wonder if I’m doing something wrong, or (more cynically) begin to question who he’s trying to impress. At two hours it seems like you’re just showing off to prove that you can, and not paying attention to cues from your partner. OR is that just me being bitchy? Ladies, can I get a ruling on this?
Anyhow, I made him reach a conclusion, and then carried on with the requisite glowing. It didn’t take long before I was ready to go again (once you get a taste….) You should have seen how devastated he looked when he broke the news that he only had the one condom. Heartbreaking really.