This comes from the same guest blogger who wrote Rug. This story is very familiar!
Thanks for sharing with us again!
So, this is about a first date, not all that remarkable in terms of where we met or how, but it’s one that is firmly burned into my memory banks with the chemistry that we shared and for the journey that followed.
It started with a somewhat tentative swipe right based on an intriguing bio (switch, BDSM, kink, all of which I had no idea about at the time). And he was hot, really, really hot. We chat and we click and it’s fun and easy so we arrange a date for two days later. We both had plans with friends but agreed to meet later in the evening after we’d caught up with our friends properly and it would be fine to cross mingle.
We meet at a bar, I saw him approaching and we just locked eyes and smiled. We hug, grab a drink and head to the dance floor. It’s immediate chemistry. I announce I’m hungry after dancing and chatting for a bit and he disappears leaving me with his friend and my girlfriend. He reappears 5 minutes later with a sneaky cheeseburger, which is a semi drunk girls best friend. I was smitten.
Our friends all slowly disappear and we’re left on own own. Still hungry, we go have some blueberry pancakes and chat and laugh and flirt away for an hour or so. We leave, I insist on a piggy back ride, he happily obliges and we run off looking for a cab. In the interests of full disclosure I advise that I’m at the end of my period but I’d like him to come home with me anyway. He’s in and we’re off back to my place. I do love a man that’s not scared of the female body in all its sometimes gory glory.
It’s hot, primal and accepting. We get back to mine and it’s on, there’s kissing and more kissing and not tentative boring kissing, but really good, passionate hard kissing. The kind that leads to clothes coming off and being literally thrown down on the bed and being masterly attended to. He starts with finger fucking me in a way I never have been and I squirt and cum all over the place (note… I did not know what squirting was or what was happening at the time… but hey it felt good). I lost all inhibition that night and got absolutely lost in the moment. He’s clearly enjoying the experience and fucks me hard and well (and yes there was momentary pausing for condom action, because I’m not completely mad and nor was he).
After all was said and done, I slept like a well sated nymph. I awake to a gorgeous adonis entangled up in the sheets with me and a bed that looks like a raging storm has blown through. I may have also had a mild hangover… We breakfast on coffee, tea and tiny teddy biscuits as I’m not by any stretch a chef or home maker. I drop him home and kiss him and say see you later friend. I did see him later, again and again for six months and it was a journey, my own personal sexual awakening. It was one I went into with my eyes wide open, knowing that it would lead to heartbreak (mine). But I’d do it all over again (and again).
Where do these people go after an experience like that? Why do they disappear? I don’t get it!
I wonder if we’ll get another installment? I don’t think this story is over!