Almost

I was there for a work conference, and we made plans to get together. He was originally from my own city and we’d recently re-connected via the magic of facebook. When last he’d come home, we met for lunch, and near the end of our time together he oh-so-casually asked: “so what’s up with all the porn in your facebook feed anyhow?”

Now to be clear, that so-called “porn” was mostly academic. I wrote papers on sex blogging and erotica film and was assigned reading assignments with titles like “At Home with Pornography” and “Mighty Lewd Books.” It was glorious, and led to some amusing facebook statuses – though none that I would call even remotely risqué within *my* definition of the term.

But he was leading up to more intimate questions – and somehow we managed to establish that he too was interested in more liberal forms of sensual expression, sex clubs and well…maybe exploring that with me a little more. Interesting. The semi-developed crush I’d had simmering beneath the surface since I was 19 might finally bear fruit. Took him long enough.

As it happens, we had slept together once before. Though I actually mean “slept.” A post New Year’s Eve party crash on someone’s living room futon. Though at age 20, I lacked both the confidence and the technique to take advantage of that particular situation. I felt more than up to the task this time – only 18 years later.

Dinner was overpriced, but laden with meaningful glances, not-so-accidental touches and numerous instances of encroaching each others’ personal bubbles. Neither of us minded. I rarely drink, but felt oddly in need of a few glasses of liquid courage to lubricate what I had planned for later. I have no memory of the food or the conversation, only of the tingly sense of anticipation that coloured the entire “date” portion of the evening. Which of course culminated in an invitation to escort me to my room.

We were both seeing other people, and while my situation was semi-open, I had no idea what his status was. I decided it was up to him to worry about that. Though I opened the conversation/seduction by asking that precise question. The conflicted look on his face implied that his relationship really wasn’t that open at all. Potentially problematic, but I decided to plunge ahead anyhow. Consent was his to give, so I was simply presenting him with some options. Well one really – the opportunity to get me naked after almost 20 years and a few glasses of wine.

I started simple – I was back in my room after all, I may as well get a bit more comfortable.  Slip off shoes and wrap, then sit down on the bed and remove my stockings slowly …not losing eye contact with him the entire time…bending over a little bit. A bit trite I know, but classic moves are classic for a reason, right? While not exactly leaping to help, he was watching what was happening without objection. And why would he if I was going to put on a little show for him?

However my patience for his dilemma would only last for so long. I was willing to make one last unspoken offer, and if he didn’t at least demonstrate more interest than just spectating, I would show him the door and take care of myself. I pressed up against him, breathed into his ear and asked him to unzip me. I was fully prepared to turn around and present the back of the dress, but before I had a chance, the zipper was down. Progress.

I stepped out of the dress and let him take a thorough look before stepping back towards him. I removed his jacket and began playing with the buttons of his shirt, as I watched him try to figure out what to do with his hands; clearly still conflicted. In my state of dishabille, his options were fairly limited, as  virtually anywhere he placed them would either come in contact with bare skin, or places so intimate that the covering material was basically meaningless. He settled for my back and hip, and our actions to that point had proven to be arousing for both of us. I was already hot, with a wet cunt ready to unzip his pants and suck on him until he was begging for mercy.

Instead I asked him if he had ever fondled a throbbing clit before. His eyes widened slightly and I could hear a sharp intake of breath. I assured him that my clit was in fact pulsing and quivering, and invited him to feel it, while simultaneously reaching my hand towards his clearly hardening cock….

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3 thoughts on “Almost

  1. jayne says:

    I hope there’s more but if there isn’t…it was still perfect. Jayne

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