 |
By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
|
I’m on my third date of the week but I’m not really very present. But it’s ok. I’m looking deeply into their eyes, smiling.
‘What?’ She asks awkwardly with a smile she tried to hide.
‘Nothing, you’re just, wow. You’re so pretty.’
Gentle lip bite and then smile again as I look away.
‘I’m sorry, go on, what were you saying?’
And I’m back.
Dating is exhausting these days. The sex doesn’t even make it seem worth it anymore. But I’m a creature of habit. So after eating a bit and drinking a bit more, when she’s asking me back to hers to eat some more, and drink some more too, what am I going to do? Say no? A sip from her fountain, ‘the elixir of life’ I say, and a fuck however she wants for as long as she wants and then the bit I’ve been waiting for. The bit I want the most. The holding.
On first dates I know people hate this part because they never know how long to do it for. When do you let go and get up? When do you let go and roll over? When do you ask them ‘what time do you need to be home for?’ I know they’re thinking it with me even though I never am. I like the silence. Well kind of silence. We can hear the deep intakes of breaths as we take in the pleasure. And the praise that comes at this point too I like.
‘You’re so fucking good at that. Fuck.’ She says softly while running her index finger gently over my body. From chest.. over my nipple.. to my pelvis and then back to the middle of my torso. And then she wraps her hand underneath me and snuggles in.
I look up at the ceiling and then close my eyes. And I drink it in. Finally quenching my thirst.
There was this one girl I dated for a while. She was my favourite because she held me, WHILE we fucked. She held on tightly to my back and my arm as I sunk into her the first time, every time. She took let out a perfect, soft moan every time I dived in and kept sinking until I hit the pool floor. It was like I had pushed it up from her cunt and out her throat the way it was involuntary. She held me tightly and yet softly, flirting with my triceps with thr palms of her tattooed hands. Her fingers clenched against my flesh as I penetrated her and she pulled me deeper into her and held me. She held me tightly. I held her tightly. My arm was underneath her and my hand gently held her short hair while she bit my neck like a vampire teasing. I remember her legs rising and wrapping around my waist. I felt safe. And I fucked her hard and deep while her cum drooled out of her cunt and dibbled down onto the bedsheets via the rim of her arsehole. I fucked her hard but slowly at times, as if it were the last time. I fucked her how she asked me to. Because she asked nicely.
‘F- F- Faster! Please!’; ‘Deeep-err! Fuck, Please, Deeper!’
She would ask me keep looking at her when I fucked her. As if I could look anywhere else! And I would look deeply into her eyes with a smile and I’d tell her how pretty she looked. How pretty she looked when she took my cock. When she’d sucked my cock. When she she sat across me at dinner. And I’d tell her how much I’d been longing to get inside her. We fucked for ages. For hours. I didn’t want to let her go.
But you’ve got to pull away at some point. I didn’t always cum from sex so I rarely had post clarity. But the thing about making them cum is, they get it before you do. So I try again. And again. And I’m just dating. And fucking. And I’m still feeling empty. Empty balls. Empty- ness. Filling up but never feeling full. So I hold on to the bits that make me feel good. Being held.  |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
» Add a new message to this topic
