Sunday, April 10, 2011

Bud, Bloom, Wither

"Oh," I sighed to a colleague as the man slouching at the podium lectured us severely. "I love him."

Said colleague raised an eyebrow in my direction and shook his head and I grinned while continuing to lust after he who emanated power and confidence, commanding attention simply by his force of personality. A PhysioProf sort of character, if that helps you - smart, funny, rather irritating and a little crude while being somehow oddly compelling. The type clearly isn't for everyone - and I always move past my little crushes - but that type generally makes me catch my breath, at least at first.

And so, upon deciding that I would identify my first lover and execute my sexual plan, I selected someone from a nearby city and we began to exchange emails. He was right, I decided, as fall fell and my birthday inched closer. Blatantly sexy, focused, confident and generally impatient with my inhibitions and excuses. He would push me past all of that nonsense and I'd have sex, decide if I liked it and then that would be that.

Friday morning, on the weekend I'd invited him to stay at my house for 2 days of erotic exploration, I took the dog on a lengthy walk through the neighboring woods. My mind wouldn't quiet - thinking back on my mother requesting that I not do it just to do it. That I feel something for this man and to be careful. I thought of regretting lost opportunities and getting older, rejecting the unknown when, later that very day, I would be knowing it. Still, I was worried and filled with a nervous energy that I tried to drown in wine as I waited for him to arrive.

Author's note: This post was written after he left that evening and is more explicit than I normally get. There wasn't intercourse but there was...stuff. And if you'd rather not know about said stuff in detail, let's catch each other on the next post.

Late October, 2010

I did not know his last name.

I did, however, learn his semen tasted a bit like ranch dressing and that giving oral sex to someone with whom you have little emotional connection is more interesting and clinical than sexy. (Is the penis not a fascinating organ? I mean, really, it's like nothing I have and I sincerely enjoy giving oral sex, despite the slight awkwardness of finding the proper position and my hair getting in the way.)

I was nervous, drinking 3 glasses of wine before he arrived, but excited after 2 weeks of sexy emails and chatting. He was cute - I loved his glasses and admired his stripey shirt out loud. After being shocked and appalled at Chienne's behavior (she is spoiled), he used the same firm tone with me and, once I obeyed his order to turn around, began to rub my back with firm pressure. I eventually relaxed, leaning into him a bit and grinned when he indicated I should return the favor. I chatted while rubbing his shoulders, scrunching the fabric of his shirt as a I stroked.

"I don't know what comes next," I admitted, blushing as he began to kiss my cheeks and neck, brushing my hair back to angle his head differently. When our lips touched, I reminded myself to part mine and felt his tongue lick my lips then touch my own. "What happens next is we go upstairs," he finally murmured softly and I nodded, gulping with nerves, head swimming from wine, before going to grab us bottles of water before leading him to my bedroom.

I kept trying to cuddle and cling as he removed my shirt and slipped my bra off. I nodded when he asked if he should undress, feeling uncertain and overwhelmed by the speed at which my brain was attempting to figure this out. I unbuttoned his shirt and watched him shrug out of it, then moved to press my bare breasts into his chest, still covered by a grey t-shirt. That eventually came off as well and I unfastened his jeans at his instruction, staring into his eyes when I removed his boxers, making a face when they caught on his erection.

I looked and touched, finding myself remarkably drawn to the heat and texture and hardness. When urged, I arranged myself and began to kiss, my head on his belly while I decided this angle worked quite well for me. With instruction, I stroked the shaft while exploring the head with my tongue, finding the spongey texture delightful even as the smell was a bit off-putting. I touched his balls, "gently," he urged and took them in my mouth after offering suckling kisses to the looser skin.

Even as I enjoyed the exploration - licking and sucking the head - the actual bobbing ("Start slowly," he advised, "while you figure out your sucking and stroking and breathing.") was tough. I leaned away for a moment and frowned - first at his cock and then into his eyes. "It's like learning to drive," I decided thoughtfully. "Not really hard, per se, but there's some coordination that's necessary."

"Keep sucking me," he replied and I giggled before returning to him, losing myself in the taste and warmth before reminding myself to stroke even as he smoothed my hair and told me to breathe through my nose. "There you go," he sighed and I felt him twitch, pleased even when I felt myself begin to slurp. This was rather sexy, I thought, though feeling his hand between my legs - still separated from my flesh by pants and panties - wasn't doing a lot for me.

"Do you want to swallow?" he asked and I nodded without removing my mouth. He was good - murmuring encouragement and pleasure nearly constantly - and I was curious. I removed my mouth for a moment to ask how and he breathed more heavily as he told me to keep sucking and to relax when I felt him coming at the back of my throat.

More accurately, it was the roof of my mouth (I think I had the angle wrong) and the taste was a bitter? I don't know, but upon swallowing it, I did gag a little bit, removing my mouth and watching more of the white fluid appear on his head, reaching to smooth it into the shaft.

"I want to make you come," he said, eyelids heavy, and I swallowed again, wishing I could take a drink of water, and rested my head on his shoulder while I rubbed the hair he'd clearly trimmed on his chest.

"You didn't tell me your last name," I replied quietly and such was the beginning of the end. We didn't argue, exactly, but there was a quiet discussion after which we agreed to disagree.

"If I hooked up with someone on a business trip, I wouldn't ask where she did her undergrad while she was sucking my cock. Or what her hopes and dreams were while she was riding me."

"Sure," I replied, understanding what he was saying but not liking it. "But it's my first time. I want to feel..."

"What?" he prompted, rubbing my back as I lapsed into silence.

"I don't know," I said, apologizing to him. "Some sort of connection."

"You want to be in love," he stated and I shook my head.

"No," I confirmed my non-verbal response. "But I do want to feel wildly attracted and valued and special. And you don't want to know me. And this somehow changes me and I feel like... I don't know. Like I need you to understand that."

"It changes your vagina," he sighed, sounding impatient and shifting the focus of my irritating from myself to him.

"I don't agree," I said, sitting up and reaching for a pillow to hold to my chest, glaring down at him. Then I agreed that he should dress and go.

And so he want to the master bathroom and I went to the guest bathroom and we put on our clothes. He shook my hand and said good-bye before departing and leaving me feeling pleased I made a decision I trusted.

Said pleasure diminished as I sat with my neurotic dog on my brown loveseat, looking at my right hand and the ring that glittered on my middle finger as it rested on her head and thinking it had been wrapped around a stranger not 10 minutes ago. And I sighed, failure settling as the daylight disappeared into night outside my door.

"I didn't," I told Mom, for I knew she'd worry. "He's gone." And I smiled without meaning to as she sighed in relief. "It's not going to happen for me," I told her softly and tuned out her disagreement, took a shower and put on pajamas to curl up with my laptop.

It's not all bad though. That evening I propositioned Will to meet me for our first date and wrote to Doug to try to figure out what might happen with him. And more important lessons came from those men. This one, though, remains nameless. But not completely forgotten - such an afternoon does seem to deserve a blog post.

1 comment:

suzy pepper said...

Nameless Guy screwed it up! Maybe next time. But don't say it won't happen for you - I think it will.

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