Who Knew I’d Be Into It? – well he did obviously

He lives in my home town, I haven’t seen my parents in a while, nobody’s having a Halloween party. Makes sense to see if we can work something out.
We can.
We’ve been winding each other up with texts and pictures for days. I am beside myself with desire. I know that he’ll be in the hotel before me. I’m supposed to see my parents first, but I change my mind and decide to go straight to see him. He has a meeting at 8.30 I’ll go see my parents then, drop my bag and come back to the hotel.
He tells me that the door will be open, he’ll be naked and waiting for me and he has some stipulations. I’m not to say a word and I’m to crawl over to him on my knees. I’m not allowed speak and I’m to do as I’m told, I’m to hold his gaze and never break it, or there will be consequences. This is perfect with me. I love this. I should get into the city by 5:30 and to the hotel less than 10 minutes later. But it gets to 5:20 and we’re not even on the outskirts. I’m annoyed and I’m weary. I left my desk at 2.20 and with the rain and traffic I think it might be 6.30 by the time I arrive. He’s already at the hotel, he’s showered and he sends me some pictures, I’m suddenly less cranky. But god do I want a drink, first, not to play.
I’m nearly an hour late and so conscious that we only have until about 8 before we’ll both have to leave. And I want it properly. If I’m not getting a drink I sure as hell better be getting an orgasm. I’ve texted him that I’m in the city and not far off. Warn him that I don’t look how I wanted. He says he doesn’t give a fuck and just to get up to the room as fast as I can. But there’s no way. I walk into the lobby, head towards the lifts but the toilets aren’t there. I can’t spot the loos anywhere in the reception area. Fuck. I’ll have to ask. I’m not mad about this because I’m about to go in there and change; and although I have a coat on, I’m wearing over-the-knee, thigh high, black boots, when I come out wearing only them and some underwear, it’s going to be obvious. I’ve possibly seen too much Belle du Jour. But there’s no way in hell I’m not going to do it. Thankfully the receptionist barely looks at me, certainly doesn’t register me and cheerily points in the direction of the loos. I skip in there as fast as I can.
The cubicles are tiny but there’s no one in there. I whip off my clothes and change my underwear. I have a quick rub of the body with some cleansing wipes, deodorant, perfume and I’m ready. I really want to fix my make up, but I want to be upstairs even more, I skip it. I slip the knicks I’ve been wearing all day into my pocket, ready to give him and with an energy I didn’t have 5 minutes previously I stride out into the lobby not giving a fuck if it looks like what I am. I know I’m being looked at, the coat just covers my arse and there’s only three inches between it and the top of the boots, three inches of flesh showing.
The room is on the eleventh floor, the views across the river are going to be amazing. True to his word the door is open and a little bit ajar, I resist the temptation to knock or even announce myself. I can see the end of his feet on the bed, but that’s all, the toilet is just inside the door so I throw my bags in there and whip off my coat. By the time I have, he’s sitting in the armchair under the window, at the very end of the room. He is indeed naked and almost ready. I let him look at me for a second; blue and cream lace lingerie and of course the boots. I get on my knees and stay there for a second just looking at him before I start the crawl. He looks calm and in control, but I see his cock twitch once, twice and it’s almost hard. I start crawling towards him slowly. I want him so badly – it’s been weeks, I can feel my heart rate rise and my lips swell. I slow down, stop and stare at his cock, it twitches once more and is fully solid. I try my hardest not to smile delightedly – I also can’t remember if it’s eye contact I’m supposed to hold or if I’m supposed to stare at his cock. Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t seem to remember either and I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes off it if I was paid diamonds to. When I get to him I kneel right between his legs as close to him as I can. Nothing has been said between us. He stands up a little and moves his cock towards my face, I know better than to try to touch it, so I don’t. He sits back down and leans forward to squeeze one of my nipples through my bra, with the other hand he strokes my cheek. He then leans right into me, he breathes me in, nose in close to my cheek – this sends me wild but again I know better than to move. My chest is heaving with the need to touch him. He nuzzles right in close to my ear and finally whispers ‘You look fantastic’.
From there it all gets a bit hazy. I’m going to get the order wrong that’s for sure but I think I can remember the main details. I’m pretty sure he finally gives me his cock, he lets me do it the way I want. I get it so wet but when I go to touch it, he tells me get my hands behind my back. I do the best I can to swallow as much as I can. I choke and gag and I still haven’t said a word. He stops me, stands over me so that I can get at his balls and then he puts his cock down my throat. My spit is trickling down my chin and onto my breasts. And he’s done toying with me. He pushes me over onto the carpet. He slaps my arse then climbs on top of me. He whispers in my ear, ‘You have been a good girl, do you think you deserve something?’ He flips me over and takes off my knickers.
I think I do.
‘You probably do. But … what if I still don’t want to give it to you?’ He’s fucking with me just to hear the gasp I make. He stands me up and offers me a hand to help me up. But then he goes and lies on the bed, head right in the bottom corner, and he pulls my hand so that I am standing over his face. I lean down over him so I’m straddling his face as he works me with his tongue. I stretch to get his cock in my mouth but I can’t keep it there. I keep gasping as he eats me, I can’t concentrate on anything else and I can’t stop myself from making noise. He has the perfect angle to get at me, holding me by the ass cheeks as I stand over his face, but really I’m sitting on it.
He holds my lips open with two fingers and keeps the pressure up on my clit, again I lean over him to get his cock in my mouth again I can’t manage it for long; my mouth wants to do other things. I think I’m going to come, but I also think I’m going to fall over. I feel like I’m losing control in my legs – I’m squatting a little and in the heels, with the orgasm building, I’m not sure I can hold the position.

 

 

When I tell him this he pops up and grabs me, bounces me on to the bed and climbs up over me – he asks me what I want, but I’m sure he knows, he just wants to hear me say it. ‘I want to come, so badly’. How do you want to come? ‘With your mouth. And your fingers’. Good answer, he says. Because that’s what you’re getting.
‘Wait, wait, wait! Let me taste it, I want to taste me’. And he finally kisses me. I can smell myself off his face I can taste myself off his lips and tongue. It’s perfect. I can’t ever get enough of that taste.
He goes back down, throwing one of my legs over his shoulder and devours my pussy. I need more, I’m in such a heightened state. He pushes two fingers into me as his tongue stays pressed against my clit. He holds it there flat against it and I pull his head closer to me, grind down on his tongue – I’m losing control and shouting his name, I don’t ever want it to stop. He adjusts his hand, twists it around, he now has three fingers in my pussy and a thumb AND tongue at my clit. I can’t even keep flat on the bed, I’m bucking underneath him probably making things very difficult. He twists his hand round once more, I know what he’s doing it. I want it and I don’t; I’m not sure I can take any more, not that it matters, I couldn’t have articulated my own name at that point let alone conveyed any futile message that I didn’t think I could take any more stimulation. It would have done no good anyway, he was always going to do it. And he completes the puzzle, slots the last piece in, his baby finger in my ass and that is the undoing of me. I think I last about 7 seconds before I explode everywhere. True to form, and just how I adore it, he doesn’t miss a beat, he’s got his cock in me before I know where I am again. And just how I always hope (but don’t always get) I keep coming, the orgasm just keeps happening. As he pushes his cock into me, with more resistance than you’d expect from a cunt that just came, I can feel the waves of it hitting me as I realise it’s not over!

 

 

We have sex for what seems like a long time, I’m conscious of time and conscious of him not even being close. I desperately want him to come before he goes to his meeting. He asks me what I want, so I tell him and that’s when he gets me on my knees and gets his cock back in my mouth.
How many ways can I describe how much I love this. How many ways can I explain how much I love hearing him say ‘Fuck, you suck such good cock. Jesus I love how you suck my cock’.
I don’t know how we ended up by the wall with him standing over me and me sucking his balls and licking right back to his asshole. His cock is dripping with my spit and I get it as far back my thought as I can. We move it back to the bed and he finally comes in my mouth, shoots hot cum back my throat that seems to go on forever.

 

 

We both start getting dressed, we’re late. But I am so satisfied and every bit as delighted with myself as if I’d had a full bottle of wine.

 

 

He says he’ll pick me up from my parents’ when he’s done. That suits, they usually drop me where ever I need to go, but I wouldn’t have them drop me at a hotel, I may be a grown ass girl but I don’t need to highlight that to them.
Which is fine talk for someone who then went home and kissed her parents with the same mouth that just got up to the above.

 

 

He picks me up two hours later. I’m wrecked but absolutely up for this. He takes a short cut back to the hotel – down a weird back road. If I didn’t know better I’d be scared. He pulls the car in suddenly and I don’t need an invitation to get my mouth around it. I didn’t think I’d made that much of an impression, but I did have my hand on his cock since the moment we were out of sight of my family home. It’s been so long since I’ve done this in a car, and this spot is perfect; quiet, dark, deserted. I have the seat belt off and am leaning over before he even has it out. What is it about giving head in a car? I’m so turned on. Both of us want more, but we decide that’s for another night, it’s getting late, and it’s about time that hotel bed saw some worth.

 

 

He had texted me two days ago to say he had an idea, but wouldn’t divulge it. I’d tried to get it out of him but all he would give away was that it was new, that it was ‘dangerous’ and not something we’d done before. I’m not proud of where my mind went, but that’s the cynic in me. He said to trust him, and reminded me that he had never pushed me further than I wanted to go and this would be the same. I wasn’t about to say no.
He drops me outside the door of the hotel and says ‘You have until I park the car and get back to the room to be ready. Remember, just go with it’.
‘What do you want me to wear’
‘Skirt, blouse and the red heels’
‘What underwear?’
‘Any underwear you want, it won’t matter’
‘Ok. Ten minutes..?’
‘Probably less, go’

I race back to the room, nervous and excited and most definitely turned on. I know my knickers are wet, shame really as I’m about to take them off. And I forgot about the other ones I took off earlier, that I meant to give him.
New black and pink lace set, short black skirt, red see-through blouse and the red heels. I’m barely dressed when there’s a knock on the door. It has to be him, but I jump nonetheless.
I open the door and he’s in full cop outfit. He pushes me in the door and tells me he has a warrant to search the place. I don’t even get a word out and he has me against the wall and is cuffing me. Real ones, his own, no hope of ever slipping out of them. He stands behind me and calmly tells me that if I cooperate then he can make it easier for me but if I don’t…
I’m not sure what to do, but I certainly don’t want this to stop. I tell him I can’t help him and I have no idea what he’s looking for here. ‘So you’re not prepared to cooperate?’ I stay silent.
He pulls me away from the wall by the cuffs and walks me towards the bed. He pushes me face first onto it, my legs are spread and my arse is in the air. He tells me he’s disappointed that I won’t cooperate’. My legs are on the floor but my body is flat on the bed, face first. He stands behind me, between my legs, I can’t see him and I don’t know what he’s going to do. He leans down so that his crotch is brushing off my cuffed hands – he’s running his cock on my hands and I go to feel it, I know it’s hard but as soon as I do, he tells me that he now has me on assaulting a police officer. I really cannot fathom how turned on I am by this. He takes his cock out of my reach and lifts my skirt. He runs a hand over my ass and down between my legs. I feel so exposed and vulnerable and it’s sending me insane. And without notice he lands a huge thwack down across my arse. He still stands behind me and says my nice underwear will not help me, lovely and all as it is. He rubs my arse where he’s hit it and strokes the other side too. I don’t know what he’s doing behind me, he says something else to distract me and again catches me with a huge whack across my arse. This is making me so wet. I’m aching to touch his cock or to have him in me.

 

 

Again, it all turns into a blur of need and desire and perfect greed for each other.
I know I struggle too much in the cuffs, I don’t mean to, but he seems to see me and says ‘Pause. Just one second’ And he walks over to get something. ‘These real ones tighten the more you struggle’ that’s when I notice the set of keys in his hand. I’m not sure if I said it out loud or it was just written as a scream across my face ‘NO! NOT YET, don’t take them off yet?’ But the end of his sentence was ‘… let me just lock them in the position they’re in so they won’t get tighter’ Phew!
He opens my blouse and takes it off as far as he can with it falling behind me and catching on my bound wrists. As he traces a finger along the curve of my breast he whispers in my ear and repeats the information he wants, while sliding a hand up my skirt. I lean my hips out to meet his hand as it finds it’s way to my wet cunt. My shoulders are still touching the wall but only just. I think I start to beg at this point; just sighing ‘Please’ in a kind of half whispered plea.

 

 

He has me over by the giant window while this is taking place. The window is as wide as the room with a sill that’s the perfect height for leaning on and being taken from behind. I don’t know how the cuffs came off but I think it was around the pleading. When he removes them, he tells me to put my hands flat on the window sill and not to move them, not even for a second. I should mention that the curtains are not closed.
I can hear him behind me, but I don’t know what he’s doing, maybe just looking. Then he takes my hips in his hand and adjusts me to the right angle before sliding his cock deep into me and fucking me steadily for anyone to see.

 

 

We have more sex that night than any other. None of the toys come out, even though I’ve brought them all. I think we had enough novelty. And in-between the sex I did get to do one of my favourite things. It’s no shocking news to learn that I love giving head, I’ve probably mentioned it 3 times already in this piece, but I don’t always get to just play with it. There’s the blow job you give where the aim is to make him come and there’s the blow job you give as an interim to sex. And then there’s the 2 hour long one I love to do; I’m just licking it and sucking it and generally just enjoying it in my mouth. And this night, he’s happy to let me and watch me.
It’s probably not a full 2 hours but it’s a good while before he’s had enough and flips me over and dives into me again.

 

 

The next morning even he’s sore from usage. He tells me we have to leave soon. But he tells me this as he’s on top of me, whispering into my ear as I can feel his granite solid cock press against my arse. ‘Can’t you just put it in for a little bit?’ I know I whine. He kisses my ear and tells me we both know that if it went in, it wouldn’t be for just a little bit. But I can have it in my mouth.
No dice, young fella, I can have that anyway and we both know it – not that I have to do any persuading as he’s not making any move to get off me, so the little push of my arse up to meet him is met with no resistance, he slides his full length into me. It’s not for long, we’re both sore and it’s really tight. But I got what I wanted and of course, I got it in my mouth too. But sure, that was always going to happen.
I sigh and say it’s never enough. ‘No, it never is, with us’ he says back.

How I’ll Practice Asking

There’s a boy I like.
I like him too much, and he knows it. But that’s ok because I’m sure he likes me too. I’m pretty sure. Now he unhelpfully doesn’t live in Dublin – yet again I seem to entangle myself with someone not in my own city, I’m not sure how I keep doing this, one of my friends claims it’s a fetish, and I should just hurry up and acknowledge that. But he’s just a charming idiot and I don’t buy that opinion.

 

So the boy doesn’t live in Dublin and has a lot of shit to sort – a big pile of shit that really needs immediate sorting, make your own guesses, you’re probably right. But as soon as that’s done we are going to see each other and it is most definitely going to happen.
I want him so much. I’ve lusted after a few boys badly this year, worthy ones who were most definitely worth the lustful pining. But this one? I want on a different level, I want all of him. Or at least I think I do, given that we haven’t even kissed, this could just be all very misplaced desire – but I somehow don’t think so. We’ve sat across from each other not touching, walked beside each other not touching, and had extremely chaste kisses hello and good bye. All shot through with barely contained need.
But that’s not what I want to talk about – as I could be swooning all day boring everyone but myself. No, what I want to talk about is that I happened to mention to him my slight issue with Asking for things sexual to be done to me (as opposed to asking can I do things to him, I can definitely ask for a cock in my mouth). Of course this came up because we have of course been talking about all the, undoubtedly great sex we’re undoubtedly going to have when we meet up. And since learning this little nugget of info he has decided to exploit it – maliciously. He has told me that I will have to ask for every single thing. That he intends to not give me anything unless I expressly ask for it. Absolutely nothing will he either do to me or with me unless I say his name and ask for it with actual words, not hints or suggestions. This both fills me with dread and turns me on wildly.
Now I’ve asked him about this, enquired as to how much steely resolve did he think he was going to have against my fingers opening his jeans and rubbing one along the band of his underwear, slipping my hand in to feel his hard cock, then getting to my knees to finally get it in my mouth… he assures me that he will remain resolute, even in the face of my best moves. All unless I ask, out loud.
And I kind of believe him, while at the same time believe in my skills. I’ve no idea how this is going to play out. But on the very off chance that we don’t rip each other’s clothes off and get down to it with very few words besides ‘where are the condoms’, I thought I better come up with a game plan, and you know, maybe get practising, even just in my head.

 

Here’s what I have so far.
Ok I won’t say that I can easily ask for a cock in my mouth – but I think I could say it?
Let’s assume the rule that kissing is for free. Because it is. And let’s say I’ve gotten him to kiss me. My next move is to get him fully naked while I still have my underwear on.
Not an impossible task – if I start taking mine off the guy usually does too.
I’m going to stand back, kick my shoes off, not breaking eye contact, and start pulling my top off – a good eyeful of the girls in a decently sexy bra should see him reaching for his belt. As he gets his jeans and t-shirt off I’ll be slipping my hands up under my skirt to pull my tights down in one move. These things aren’t sexy and I’ve perfected this move for minimum looking-like-an-eejit exposure.
Hopefully I’m now in just a skirt and underwear and he’s down to his jocks (white Calvin Klein’s if you’re asking my preference but really, I don’t care)
Again making sure he’s looking at me I step forward and run my hand up his chest and into his hair, then pull him towards me for more kissing, totally controlling it. If he has any sense he’ll have either reached for my tits or better still, my arse, and pulled me in close against him, pressing his cock against me. This is what I want.

 

Before he has a chance to turn me around and bend me over, I smile at him and slide slowly down to my knees, I look up at him as I stretch both of my hands up to grab either side of his underwear and slowly release his cock. He might try to stop me. I don’t know. He might put his hands on it and stroke it and look down at me on my knees and softly remind me that if I want his throbbing, hard, full, length in my mouth, then I’ll have to ask him. If he’s determined he might very well insist that I ask very nicely. But as I’ve said, I don’t know how he’s going to play it or what resolve he’ll have in the face of an almost naked (relatively) hot girl, on her knees, obviously wanting to suck his cock. We’ll see…
For these purposes we’re going to assume the worst. He does have his hand on his cock and he wants me to ask. I’ve pulled his underwear off and he’s helpfully stepped out of it – never taking his eyes off me, assessing how far he can push me.
I know I’m going to say it, of course I’m going to say it – I just need to be pushed, I’m not a terribly good sub, in the strictest sense.

 

He repeats the conditions for me – ask nicely or I don’t get it in my mouth. I sit up on my knees, I move in as close as I can – his hand is almost brushing my cheek. I stretch out my tongue and lightly lick the base then look up at him and say ‘Please’, then another lick ‘Can I’, then lightly brush my lips off his hand ‘Have your’, another lick, ‘Rock solid’ one more kiss of his hand, and as I say ‘cock’ he lets go. I don’t move, I just stare at it, then at his face. ‘Where do you want my rock, solid, cock’ he says, enjoying the last seconds of tormenting me. One more lick and I finish the sentence ‘In my mouth please’ and I don’t wait for permission, I just take it, all of it as far in as I can.
He makes a grunt of relief and satisfaction and says ‘Good girl’. How I love and loathe this.

 

I’ll stay at this as long as I please – but this isn’t what I really want – no, this is a means to an end, namely working up to the big ask. The first one was easy.
After a few minutes working his shaft, getting it nice and wet, I move him onto the bed, get him to lie flat – I get on my knees between his legs and start sucking him again – not for long, it’s really just to keep him throbbing. I stand up on the bed and finally slip my skirt off. I’m standing over him in (no doubt) gorgeous underwear. He raises himself up on his elbows – to get a closer look? To get his hands on me? I’m having none of it, teasing is a two way street. I stretch out my leg and push him back down on to the bed. I step closer to him, so he can get a better look as I push two fingers into my mouth while circling the top of my knickers. With my left hand I pull my knicks open and with my right I slide my fingers in but only run them along the outside lips. I tell him what I’m doing because I know he can’t really see. He tries to sit up again and again I press him back down with my foot, tell him I’m almost done playing with him. It’s time to take my underwear off, I’m still standing over him but not close to him, he gets his first look at my pussy, waxed and ready. I straddle him, pressing my lightly wet lips all along his hard cock, I grind on it, rocking gently back and forth – keeping him hard and kind of torturing myself as well. But this isn’t what I want either, it’s still part of the plan.

 

I climb off of him and then lick my own juices off his cock – I love the taste of myself. Then I straddle him again – further up his chest this time, almost pinning him down. My legs are spread across his chest, he can see my lips and all of my cunt. He can probably guess what’s coming. I lean back so that I’m pushing my pussy forward – balancing on one hand, with the other I start to circle my clit. I then put my finger in his mouth, let him taste me.
Again I don’t know what his commitment to his cause is, how dedicated is he to getting me to ask? – usually at this point a guy would have pleaded with me to move my lips up on to his face. Let’s just again assume the worst; that he has my swollen lips and slick pussy almost at eye level and he’s still waiting for me to ask.
This is what I have to be prepared to expect.
As I take my fingers out of his mouth, I slip them in mine for a second before I bend down and kiss him deeply. Then I whisper in his ear ‘New boy, please, will you eat my pussy’.

 

 

 

 

 

And that’s how I’ll ask – should it turn out that New Boy is sticking to his guns and insists that I have to ask for everything.

Don Draper – and some of the Best Sex Ever

A guy asked me why all the sex I talk about here had to be outrageous and crazy. Did I not ever have ordinary, lovely, just getting on with it sex. Not rubbish unenjoyable sex, but fantastic non wild sex. Where no one was playing a character or acting out a scenario. I told him I had sex like that all the time. He said he’d love to read that. I wasn’t sure that I could write it in a way that would be at all interesting. I’m still not sure that I have.
Here it is anyway. I’ve tried to explain it, tried to illustrate just how Don Draper like this guy was, so utterly comfortable in himself and his requests of me but mostly it was just good sex – and even still there’s a bit of power play in it.
Make no mistake though, this was some of the best sex of my life.

 

 

 

Don was the big one, the massive one, the biggest of my life.
The love of it, I hear myself, and hate myself, for saying.
But it’s true. He was.
Don and I worked in a pub/restaurant/bar/nightclub a cool one where I was inexplicably, because it came with absolutely zero benefits, seeing my manager. It was this manager that brought Don in to introduce him.
Fuck, who’s this, I immediately thought, he’s hot. So of course I was aloof. Rude and terrifying he later said. I said HI, explained that I worked this bar, mostly and I ran it. I think he might have complimented me on the music that was playing. Or maybe I just wish he did.
And off he went.
The next time I saw him I didn’t think he was that hot but I think there’s a self-preservation, hotness revisionism-gland that sometimes does this for you. Pity it doesn’t last.
So every time I saw him I was trying to assess whether he was hot or not. Ridiculous because of course he was.
And he was different.
I had just finished college and was messing around being a full time fantastic barmaid not using any of my education. He was doing a post grad in the big University, the good one (Not Trinity) and those people didn’t usually frequent our establishment of venues. They mostly didn’t make it into the city centre. So the fact that he took a job here was out of character in itself. Initially to be viewed with (ok arrogant) bemusement: Oh dared to leave the cocoon of the campus, aren’t ya very brave. How long have you lived in this city? Oh just the 4 years. Yeah, well done.
What?
I fancied him and I needed to figuratively pull his hair. What else should I have done?

 

 

 

He mainly worked the big main bar, and then moved down to the club when that closed up for the night. I ran the infinitely cooler side bar and finished up around the same time. But was not on club duty this night. I had stopped sleeping with the manager. Who knows why, possibly the fact he was sleeping with my younger sister and was a douche (horrifically true story). But he was a good manager and it didn’t affect our working relationship. Yet.

 

 

 

The door bitch was my best friend so I went to hang out with her for a bit, have a chat, keep her company, have a drink. But I popped to the loo and found it needed attention – god only knows what was wrong, I’m sure I’ve blocked from my memory loads of my time spent in there. Whatever it was I felt it needed immediate sorting.
Me: Here, who’s on in the club tonight, that ladies is in bits
BFF: Conor I think? Dunno, but there’s not a soul in there yet, tell who ever’s behind the bar to sort it because I’m not doing it, tell them I said that too.
Me: Sure! I’ll be delighted to convey that message.
And in I sauntered.
But Conor wasn’t behind the bar, Don was. The club was empty. Yup he was hot I decided.
Me: Hey, Don?
Don: What can I get you? He asked with a knowing smile.
Me: Nothing, there’s an issue with the ladies you should probably look at – said me with what I thought was a helpful, conspiratorial, isn’t-bar-work-shit-sometimes tone.
Don: Which one?
Me: Seriously? Just go look at it.
Don: Ok. He says unfazed.
I head back out to talk to the BFF and he comes out a minute later.
‘Show me what’s up with the loo’
I’m not sure why I did but for some reason I did walk to the ladies and show him. He took one look at it and decided it wasn’t worth his time solving just announced ‘That’s fucked’ then locked the door from the inside. What’s he doing! Two seconds later he has jumped over the top of the cubicle wall, walks out of the adjoining cubicle and adds ‘That’s for a plumber and for later’ and walks off.
Step one towards me swooning.
The nonchalance, the deft, ninja move over the cubicle wall, the blithe disregard for who was actually going to fix it? I knew, in that second that I was going after him.

 

 

 

Door bitch finished up and we went upstairs, to the closed main bar, for afterhours drinks. Don was still working and on clean-up and wouldn’t be up for a while. I was going to make this happen. I removed every bar stool from around the counter – placed them just out of reach– except for one next to me. Where he duly sat with his after work pint.
Me: Nice work with the toilet earlier
Don: Thanks
Me: You know that door can be locked from the outside with a coin though?
Everyone laughs. He just shrugs.
I’m being mean but how else am I supposed to kick this off.
Me, him and door bitch chat, flirt and have a good laugh, I think. But then he gets up abruptly and says he’s off.
He’s got his coat on and is out the door. I sit there cursing things and wondering if I’ll get another chance when I just get up and run after him. I’ve had more to drink than him maybe that fuelled it but I don’t think so. I really wanted him and I just didn’t care.
He’s half way down the outside steps when I get to the door and shout ‘Hey, wait, wait, wait! Where ya going?’
‘Home’ he says.
‘Really. Already’
There’s a pause and then he says ‘Yeah, I’m having a smoke’ and makes the international symbol for joint.
‘Do you wanna come?’
I don’t smoke, I never have but I’m not passing this up so I say yes emphatically, and run in to grab my jacket.
Everyone’s looking, without saying a word, except for the giant grin on my face, I grab my jacket and bag and head back out. I give the BFF a kiss and run out the door. There’s a few whoops and claps. I hope he doesn’t hear.

 

 

 

When we get to his place, I let him skin up before confessing that I don’t smoke. I always wonder if that’s when he realises what I’m actually here for. Because I’m not sure he had it figured out before.
Thinking about it now it sounds so weird and awkward but it really didn’t feel like it at the time. Or at least not to me.
There’s no build up, we don’t kiss but he eventually coolly, calmly says, as if it’s happened loads of times ‘Do you want to go to bed’. I think I just smile and say yes.
He asks me if I want a t-shirt. ‘No. I’m fine’ I know I chirp, oblivious to how odd this apparently is. ‘Do you want me to turn the light off?’
Yeah, ok. I say.
It takes me longer than him to get undressed so he’s in the bed before me. He reaches out a hand to help me in. I just remember it seeming so lovely, this outstretched hand in the dark, helping me into bed.
And I’ve no idea why I didn’t want a t-shirt but I did want the light off! No consistency. I think it’s because I generally don’t wear anything in bed. Certainly not if someone was with me anyway.
So I take his hand and I slip in under the duvet. He’s surprised to find me naked. ‘It’s fucking freezing, are you sure you don’t want a t-shirt?’ I don’t.
He pulls me in close to warm me up. He slides both arms under me and presses me to his chest then rubs his hands fast up and down my skin to really warm me. I know I’m smiling and my teeth are chattering. We’re both smiling, he lifts my chin to find my face and finally we kiss and I know I want this boy so much.

 

 

 

His hands slide down over my hips as we keep kissing, then back up to find my tits. He’s wearing a t-shirt and boxers I’d like to mention. I slide my hands up under his t-shirt and back down over his arse – it’s a great arse. His fingers slip in between my legs and I part them for him, eager to feel him inside me. We’re still kissing and he says into my mouth ‘I’d love to eat your pussy’. I don’t say anything I keep kissing him. His fingers are going in and out of me slowly and he adds: ‘Properly eat it, I want you sit on my face, get right down on it, leaning against the wall for balance. I would love to have you sit on my face’. This doesn’t seem unreasonable to me, and he’s made it sound like it’s something amazing for him. To my 22yr old self I’m confused as to why anyone would decline a request like that? This is also the very first time it’s ever been said to me.
The first time that anyone has told me how much they would enjoy it if I sat on their face so they could give me pleasure?
I still haven’t said anything, I think I’m trying to say OK, through the kissing when he adds ‘I mean, obviously not tonight, it’s freezing but when it’s warm’. Too late, I’ve wriggled out from him and the duvet and I’m scooching up beside his head so I can swing my leg over. I want to please him so much. I know I haven’t conveyed it here but he’s managed to say it in a way that isn’t pleading or expecting. It’s a quietly confident statement of something he’d like and genuinely thought was unreasonable in the cold room.
It’s possibly this night that gets me addicted to boys’ reactions. His surprise and satisfaction that I would do this is something I know I want to replicate. I want to be looked at like that always – with slight awe and wanton desire.

 

 

I climb on to his face and he wriggles down to get himself better under me as I push my thighs apart further and lean forward toward the wall. It’s freezing but I think my gasp is more for his tongue at my lips. I don’t know him so I don’t know what he wants from me; does he want me to push down on to him, pull his head up toward me? Does he want me to grind right onto his tongue and ride his face? Does he need more space so he can get fingers in there too? I don’t know, so I just get it as close to face as I can and let him direct it.
He takes one tentative lick, the one that makes me gasp, then looks back up at me with a filthy grin and like it’s his birthday and like this is exactly what he wished for. Then he slides his tongue back down my lips and slowly up to my clit. Before slowly sucking all my clit into his mouth and softly pulling and sucking it, then harder and harder then abruptly letting it go and going back to run his tongue back up the middle.
I can barely hold my balance. This is fabulous but it is freezing, I don’t think I can come. So I climb down and tell him I have to stop, he’s just amazed that I did it at all.

 

 

 

Now here is where I have some information that I didn’t have at the time. I thought we were having a great time. Although with hindsight, I can’t remember when I got a hold of his dick? But at some point he says he has to go to the loo and he’s gone for a bit. He tells me months later that he was unable to focus at all, that everything was working but he couldn’t get into it. So he went upstairs for a few minutes, had a bit of a wank and when he came back down, everything just worked perfectly then.
This was absolute brand new information to me. I was utterly oblivious to anything being wrong that night.
So I honestly don’t know at what point that fits in. I can only tell you what I remember but felt I should drop that in there too.

 

 

 

I remember getting my hands on his cock, to this day one of my all-time favourites. Not the fattest or the longest but quite substantial and so smooth and even; an honestly beautiful cock.
I know we had sex more than once, I know I loved it. I wanted more of him. This was genuinely great sex for no other reason than I just loved him inside me. There was nothing kinky or dangerous or out of the ordinary but fucking hell was it deeply satisfying. How he grabbed my arse and bit my lip as he fucked me slowly, watching my reactions, getting off on them.
I know he had me from behind and he had me sitting on the bed as I gripped his neck, straddling him and grinding myself into his balls and down hard onto his shaft. Nothing wilder than that.

 

 

 

 

I woke up the next morning so fucking thrilled with myself. I had gotten what I wanted and he had been great too. I’d told him that I was just out of 4 year relationship and I wasn’t looking to get back into anything, and I meant it. He looked at me like I was a dream.
I did mean it too. It had taken me ages to get out of a difficult situation living with the ex the last thing I needed was to get right back into one. Not to mention the side line in sleeping with the manager. Nope, I did not need any more boy complications. But damn it if I didn’t want more of that sex? How do I handle this? Do I kiss him goodbye, is that weird, what are the rules?
It doesn’t matter, he makes the moves before I have to.
We’re on the street when we say goodbye, I look at him and smile and say ‘Thanks for last night’ and turn on my heel. I don’t want any awkward goodbyes or weird half hugs where neither of us knows if it’s a kiss or not and we end up making lip contact with an ear. But he grabs my hand as I spin around. ‘Whoa, wait, wait, wait? What was that!’ And he pulls me into him and kisses me, deeply, properly, genuinely. ‘That’s better’. Then squeezes me and adds ‘I’ll give you a call yeah!’
I just smile and walk off.
I don’t know why I’m so delighted with that. But I am. Jesus he’s so cool.

 

 

 

 

This is November. And I fall home with him every night, into his bed. We have ordinary, unacrobatic sex that I can’t get enough of. Sex I can’t describe because there’s nothing to tell but if I let myself think of it even now, it turns me on. The way he looks at me, the way he turns me on ever before he touches me. Just that little, small, loaded smile across the bar I know it’s saying ‘Your ass is mine, I am going to watch you come tonight and then take you from behind’. All I want are his eyes on me, his hands all over me and his cock in me. I want all of him. And my interest in everybody else wanes and wanes until no one exists for me sexually but him.
He comes on nights out with my friends, I show him the real parts of the city. There’s presents exchanged at Christmas and there’s dinner on Valentine’s night. And by my birthday in March I am wholly in love with him and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m also ok with it.

 

 

 

By the early summer we are a real thing it has just happened. But he hasn’t told me he loves me. I’m not stupid enough to keep telling someone when I’m not hearing it back and I’m not needy enough to ever ask. I felt it. I felt he loved me. He certainly showed me.
I was now working for another nightclub. Doing office hours some days and then working the private members bar at night. Part of my job was promotions and advertising in the colleges. I would take a cab out to the University he was at and work for about an hour and then sit in the sun drinking cider with him then fall back to his place and have lazy, giggly, afternoon sex. The sun would stream through the curtains and I would dance around in his shirt to delicious old school, sexy hip hop. One day as I was climbing back into bed he said stop. ‘Stay there, don’t move. You look so perfect, silhouetted against the sun, your hair’s all messy and I can just see the outline of your breasts. You look amazing and whatever else happens I’m going to remember this. This is what I’m going to think about when I think of you’. It polarized it in my own memory too. But he knew something I didn’t. He had applied for jobs in London.
He was about to leave me.

 

 

So he went, and I let him, and he didn’t ask me to go.
And it wasn’t until I visited him there that he finally told me he loved me. I thought we’d broken up. Jesus he kept me on my toes.

 

 

 

 

 

It took me years but I think I figured out why he stayed consistently amongst the top on my ‘Best Ever’ list. There was nothing that would be considered wild about it, but there was something psychological that grew the longer I was with him.
He taught me about reactions, he was the first guy to want to do things just to see my reaction. He got off on watching how I reacted to what he did to me. He once said ‘I just want to do things to you, put things in you, use them on you. Just to see what you’ll do, how you’ll react. I want to watch you’. It was this distance that made it so sexy, that he wasn’t just there trying to get himself off, it was altogether something more erotic. He was getting off on what he could do to me, the power he could wield and of course getting aroused by seeing me writhing in front of him.
He would watch other guys dance with me, watch them flirt with me or try to pick me up. He’d rarely intervene, just look over with sly a smile, just cock his head and keep looking at me. Nothing used to turn me on more. That he could not be fazed by any other guy, used to get me so wet. But why would it faze him, he knew well I was only ever going home with him. And more than that, he trusted me that I wasn’t up to no good. And he trusted me that I could handle myself, I’m not the kinda girl that needs saving and he knew that.

 

It was all just how he was that used to get me so turned on ever before he laid a finger on me. It was all psychological. Or you could call it lazy; he had me so ready that by the time he did touch me he had barely anything to do, I was already on the brink just ready to fall off the precipice.

 

He did pull some stuff though. This was one of his favourite tricks:
As we didn’t ever live together sometimes we might not have seen each other in a few days. And when he lived in London, possibly not for a few weeks. I would be ravenous when I saw him, couldn’t wait for it. But Don? Nope, he wasn’t going to show it, he was going to make me pay. He’d kiss me lay me on the bed ask me about my day as he moved, slowly down my clothes to open my jeans or lift my skirt, kissing all the way, gentle, tneder. He’d get them open and I’d stop talking, to which his response was to look up and say ‘Keep going, I’m interested, what else happened’ So I would keep going, until he had his face firmly between my thighs and I no longer had any interest in my day, and let out a moan. Again he’d look up from his work, lick his thumb and run it over the lips and softly say ‘Sssshhhhh none of that – keep talking or I’ll stop’. So I would try to keep talking, my head swimming and my mind wanting to punch him and beg him all at the same time. Inevitably, I would let out another moan and wail that I couldn’t keep talking. To no avail, he’d lift his head with a calm, evil smile and tell me that he couldn’t possibly keep going unless he heard the end of how my day went, and he was sure I could try a bit harder, and back he would go, with one eye watching how he was tormenting me. He could keep this up for a while.
He loved eating me and eventually he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from losing himself between my thighs. Licking and sucking any way he wanted, thrusting his fingers into me to make me come and let me make all the noise I wanted.

 

 

So that’s my story of intimate, satisfying, thoroughly addictive, in-love sex. Of course I wore underwear for him. Of course there were scenarios of course there were motorway blowjobs – but mostly it was just the deep need and utter desire to have him and be wanted by him.

Even now, I wouldn’t trust myself in a room alone with him. He is Don Draper, he’s so calm and assured and oozes charm.

Asking

Sometimes I can’t believe how long it takes me to figure out things. I’ve gotten to this age and I haven’t managed to get some very basics understood. It has taken me until this very year to fully get this simple principle (described below)
I’m the second child of four. There were 6 of us and a dog that loved getting knocked down, all in the one house; basically everyone’s need seemed to be greater and I suppose I just got used to not having general requests met at a young age. I’m not implying I was neglected, not even remotely, I’m just saying I learned not to bother people unless it was important and even then that there was probably someone whose problem would trump mine. On the plus side it was probably this that has made me the pretty self-sufficient person that I am. I don’t think I could ever be described as high maintenance.
(High standards, Bitchy, demanding and exacting, lazy, uncompromising plus loads of other terrible things – but not high maintenance)

 

 

But on the down side… I think it was growing up like that that has probably stopped me asking for very basic things that I really should ask for. Things that maybe people would like if I requested it of them?
Not terribly long ago I was with a great partner, we were in the middle of things when I knew what I wanted next – that doesn’t often happen – and I started to say it, but I couldn’t get the words out.
It happens all the time, I might get as far as ‘I want..’ or ‘I think I’d like…’ or ‘I’d love you to….’ And then I stop, I’m not physically able to finish the sentence, I catch myself.
And I’ve only twice (I think?) ever outright asked anyone to eat me. I don’t know why that’s the hardest one to ask for but it just is? Maybe because it just feels a bit selfish? I’ll happily ask you to fuck me but that feels like I’m giving as well as getting so that has always been ok.
But this time, in this bed with this guy? All I wanted was for him to make me come with his fingers. It’s not a huge ask, it’s not an outrageous demand. But I couldn’t say it; I couldn’t ask him to please keep kissing me but to slip his hands between my legs and make me come, just with his fingers.
I can direct, I can imply, I can certainly do to him what I’d like in return in the hopes of getting the thing I want – but just asking someone? Nope. Can’t do it.
I started to say it, because I do always (these days) try my hardest to ask, and I do try to address this issue. So I got half the words out and he caught me, I started so he made me finish. I got shy, I think I hid my face, probably turned away and pulled his arm over me so that he was spooning me – anything so that I wasn’t being looked at directly. But he squeezed me and coaxed it out of me, beautifully.
And of course this was something he could do, would be happy to do was sure he could do, and do well.
So he adjusted his position so that I was half underneath him perfectly aligned so that he could kiss me or keep his lips out of reach and make me reach for them, as he deftly, gently, steadily moved his fingers expertly around my clit. It was more than I could have hoped for. He teased it out of me and consequently I had one of the most perfect orgasms ever. I sometimes (read: a lot of the time) have to focus, focus really hard and concentrate to make it happen – not this time. This was going to happen without me doing anything, without me willing it to. It was just going to build, wash and crash all through me. With no input from me at all, I had no control over it. These are the very best of all the orgasms, which to be fair are all pretty fantastic.
So I came spectacularly and he got to watch as I writhed in his arms. Got to watch the results of his handiwork. That had to have been a sight to behold, it was such a perfect example of an all consuming climax.
Now I’m not just saying this about me, because I have no idea what I look like when I come, but I do know how great it is to look at someone coming, knowing that I did it. Knowing that it was all down to me –it is such a turn on. (Which is the only down side to blow jobs; as soon as I’ve made him come I just want to climb right on, it’s such a shame.)
And he was not one to miss a trick and was not unaware of how I love to be fucked straight after I come. He had the condom on and was in me before I knew what was happening. Because it must have been a turn on for him, how could it not have been? He had just made me scream in ecstasy, and if making your partner scream in ecstasy is not a cock stiffener for you then you might be doing sex wrong or at least missing some point.

 

But I was missing the point wasn’t I.
I love it when a partner asks me to do something, I love giving them what they want, I love being able to. So why was I thinking that someone wouldn’t want to do that for me? Sure, I was the one getting to climax but it’s not like he wouldn’t be getting something out of it too? Why would I think that someone wouldn’t want what I wanted myself; to be asked?
I don’t have an answer. Except to say that I just habitually find it hard to ask for things but I am getting better.

I do hope one day that I have a partner that I will happily beg to eat me.