I wrote a completely different post for this weeks prompt.
But decided not to use it at this point in time.
So LOVE is a strange thing. Being in love is a type of madness. And loving can be hard for many – I mean if you have ever really loved someone then it would be impossible to treat them badly, even if they didn’t want to be with your anymore. Right? Love should not be selfish.
I will look at that path another time. Today I am going to share with you a true tale about my man and me. (When I write about him in true-story format I always call him Rik.)
The scene – We have just reconnected after nearly seventeen years of not seeing each other. I need to know if our love is real. If our love works sexually. So I book a room and he travels two hundred miles to spend a few days with me.
Loving you, Loving me Hard
“I’ve booked a hotel near Rye.” I state confidently as soon as he jumps into the passenger seat of my car.
“Great. And it should be a quick journey in this weather.”
Indeed the gods are treating us well with hardly a cloud blowing across the pale blue sky.
As we arrive at the south coastal town Rik spots a typical country pub with large wooden tables in a front garden. Perfect for lunch on a summers day I muse and park up in a convenient space about hundred yards away.
We order food. Suddenly, the boldness from earlier leaves me and I can’t concentrate on what I’m eating, how it looks or tastes – I really only have eyes for him. My tummy has small, gnarled knots growing tighter each time he touches my hand or stares a little longer than necessary into my eyes.
I ponder over the reasons for being here. Love is a drug and I need to know if this is simply addictive or the real thing.
All of a sudden it is time to go to the hotel. I can hardly move. I want to capture this moment – the before – and keep the image in my minds eye forever.
The room is nice enough for our purposes and Rik immediately slips into the shower. Now I am unsure what to do. I switch on the afternoon’s tennis – Wimbledon – and remove my leggings. Feeling all fingers and thumbs.
I don’t need to bathe, of course I had a bath that morning. There is only one thing for it – jump up and down on the bed.
He re-appears with just a white towel around his middle and very quickly it is clear to me that he’s still in the process of drying himself. My vision moves up and down with each bounce and I catch a glimpse of his penis when he rubs the cloth between his legs. I’m sure he is purposely flirting and teasing. Then it’s gone and the towel is neatly tied round his waist. It doesn’t seem he has any intention of putting his clothes back on.
“Come on May – is that dress coming off ?” He unplugs the TV.
I stop acting like the bed is a trampoline and sit down on the edge. He looks fit. Skinny yet strong. The horse riding has done him good.
“I’m nervous.” The words appear from nowhere.
Sitting down next to me he casually puts an arm over my shoulders. “That’s because this matters.”
I know he’s right and as his lips meet mine I hope the noise of my heart is not thumping inside his head as well as my own.
He gets up and opens the bottle of Cava we’ve brought with us. Then stares straight at me. “The dress has to go, now.”
Of course he wants to watch me. Quickly I escape to the toilet and reflect why I’m apprehensive. When he last saw me naked I was 17 years younger and had not carried two children. But I know I can’t stay in here any longer.
Back in the room he has a glass of wine in one hand and smiles. Before I can change my mind I grab the dress, pull it over my head and let him survey me, just in bra and knickers. There’s definitely an appreciative glint in his eyes as he passes me a glass of bubbly.
Taking a huge sip I sit on the bed next to him. We fall into each others arms – almost as if we both realise at the same moment that time is precious
Mouths searching, biting, sucking.
Nails digging, scratching, grazing.
Each of us thrust up against the other. The towel falls away and finding his cock I stroke the length. So smooth and hard, ready for anything.
My cunt feels like it is a hot dripping mess. Can Rik possibly sense this? He dispenses of my panties and forcing my thighs apart he positions his head between my legs, so if he looks down he can see my feet and his arse is to the side of my head. Immediately I am thrown back to when we knew each other in the late 90’s – at that point he was certainly the only guy to go down on me in such a manner.
His tongue probes both my holes and flicks across my clit.
At the same time as thrusting my hips into his face I put a hand under his balls as if feeling their weight and squeeze slightly. He treats this as a sign to straddle me – his testicles hover over my nose. The pubic hair tickles and taking a long breath I inhale the warm salty aroma above my face.
Then, lifting his head from my cunt Rik positions himself slightly higher so in one maneuver he is able to angle his cock into my mouth. At the same time his fingers, one, two, thee – could it be four? Intrude into my sex. My muscles pulse against them and he begins to ram them back and forth – hard – fast – as if they are a cock fucking me.
With each pull his thumb brushes over my clit. I know I’m about to cum – even though all the anticipation has tightly wound up my body I feel the nervous tension uncoiling, allowing my climax to extend to each nerve ending, until I am a shivering, shuddering wreck.
We lay side by side pressing up against each other. His dick still hard pushing into the softness of my tummy. After a few minutes he kneels above, pinning me to the bed with one hand whilst looking down at my face. My lips teases the tip of his cock as his fingers jerk the skin back and forth until my mouth and lacy bra are covered with his warm, milky fluid.
Rik falls back on to the bed next to me and we laugh, knowing what we have together is the real thing – and a drug – rolled into one.
Here is a fun bit of fiction – you will like it 😉 – Love made me do it…