Late Night Trist

He never should have sent that text. To be fair, he had no idea what he was doing when he responded to my “Hey- what’s up?” with a casual, “I come straight from the sport and lie down on the sofa, and with you?”

How could he have known that girl’s night had ended about an hour or so, and I had just about finished all the wine that was leftover, (after all, it’s wrong to be wasteful, right? Why was there even wine leftover? Ah well, more for me!) How could he have known that I was feeling “some kind of way?’ (Always feel “some kind of way” when there is too much alcohol involved and hey, I love wine! So… YOU put two and two together!)

When I responded, “I have a nice shower, and warm towels.” I wonder what went through his head before he typed his response? “I come to you, now.”

I quickly dressed again, because well braless in your pajamas no way to meet a newish man at your door for the first time. When his tall frame sauntered through the door around midnight, and I had a chance to look at him, and he did not disappoint. Even though he was coming straight from the gym, his thick dark brown hair was almost perfectly coiffed, and his smile was wide, if a bit mischievous. He was wearing perfectly fitted faded jeans, black pointy toes shoes (so Italian, like him!) and a blue button up shirt. Sexy.

He came in, I opened a new bottle of red, and poured him a glass of wine, (yes, I poured myself a new glass too!) We stood in the kitchen, a little awkwardly at first, talking, getting the sense of one another. But really, we both knew why he was there, so it wasn’t long before we were leaning up against the kitchen sink making out. Oh, he is a good kisser, I leaned in closer to feel his whole body up against mine.

Up to this point, in our texts, we hadn’t really addressed the question, “What are you into?” We had danced around it a bit, he had said that he likes to caress his woman, and please her. Well duh! Isn’t that something everyone likes? YAWN. And I certainly hadn’t been completely forthcoming about my desires or tastes either. So we were now in this situation and still unsure about the other’s style or preferences. That was soon to be discovered.

As my clothes were being quickly stripped from me, I was unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it to the floor, we were kissing and walking to the bathroom. It was so quick, I hardly remember where our clothes ended up, (except the next morning when I found my bra on the kitchen counter… Oy!) and before I knew it, we were in the shower, kissing, touching, leaning up against the wall, the water caressing us, no inhibitions at all.

Once I had him in my hand, and was enjoying the feel of him throbbing to life, he grabbed the back of my hair, pushed me down, and told me to put him in my mouth. See, this is where that whole discussion of “What are you into?” comes in. When he did that, it could easily have gone a different way, but in my head I thought to myself, YES!

Before long, we dried off, took a moment to pour ourselves a little more wine, regroup, and head to the bedroom. The fun continued from there. All the promises of our previous flirting couldn’t compare to the reality. It was better. His touch thrilled me, sometimes it even hurt me, kept me wanting more.

He talked so dirty, it made me want him even more. He took what he wanted, and had me all the ways he wanted, and many of the ways I wanted. His hands found their way into me, always rough, always insistent, and when he finally pushed his way inside me with his big beautiful self, I came almost immediately. Multiple times.

When we finally had enough, (for now) I laid there, half on top of him, unable to move any further, he wrapped his arm around me, and gently rubbed my back and ran his fingers through my hair. When our breathing finally normalized, we even had a nice chat, though I promise you, I don’t remember much except for the close comfortable feeling of relaxing in his arms after the wildness we had just shared.

When we finally had the strength to stir, he got dressed to go home. He pulled me close, with his hand pressed against my ass pulling me into him, to let me feel that he was quickly getting hard again. He promised to be “in touch” and went out the door. I instantly fell back into bed again, and promptly passed out.

In the morning, when I finally woke up, there was a text from him, “Guten Morgen, ick denk an dich” (Good morning, I am thinking of you.) Even through my awful wine headache, I smiled, hoping he would keep thinking of me, so we can play again sometime soon. 😉

*****

Have you ever met a guy for the first time at your door and allowed him to have his way with you? Did you see him again after that, or was that it?

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