New kid in town
I was sitting astride his lap and we'd just started to kiss. My hand ran along the back of his neck, against the short buzz of hair at the nape, and then along the smooth skin of his cheek. He turned and nuzzled on my hand, kissing it then taking it to his mouth.
I've always had a penchant for having my hand kissed as way of greeting. Sadly though it's seldom that men here are gentlemanly enough for that. A woman's hands are underrated erogenous zones, from the underside of the wrist to the crevices between each finger where they meet the palm.
So when I felt his velvety tongue slowly slide up to that spot between my index and middle finger, I knew it was going to be a good night.
I'd spotted Trent talking to another woman at the back of the club. All 6 feet tall and broad-shouldered, just the way I like them. She seemed more interested in their conversation than he did, so I took it as a sign to start making eye contact.
Ten minutes later, he walked past me quite deliberately and stood at the far end of the dancefloor by himself. He was surprised I still recognised him from the week before, as our initial meeting had been rather a brief one. One drink and casual banter later, I left for the loo and returned to find the same woman desperately trying to engage him once again. This time by leaning into him and whispering in his ear while swaying suggestively.
I turned away and resumed talking to my colleague, because competing for a man's attention is futile at best, not to mention tiring and cheap, and I just don't like endorsing the male ego that much. Especially ones I don't know very well.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned, informed me he was leaving and asked if I'd like a ride home.
Done deal.
It's almost as if he can read my mind in bed, because he knew how to push all my buttons, just the way I like them pushed. He gives head in swirling, languid strokes, with just enough pressure, and knew to slip a finger in at just the right moment. So much so that I definately need to see him again.
And try as I might, I can't seem to recall the sequence of the various positions we used. I do remember him politely asking if I'd like it from the back and answering 'yes, please', and also that he actually managed to surprise me by pulling one leg up to his chest while I lay on my side, the other leg between his as he knelt above me.
Killer angle.
Let's hope that skanky other bitch doesn't get to him before I do next week... There's so many possibilities I'd like to explore, and this time I'd really like to show him what other things I'm capable of.
Oh dear...
I think I've fallen in lust.
I've always had a penchant for having my hand kissed as way of greeting. Sadly though it's seldom that men here are gentlemanly enough for that. A woman's hands are underrated erogenous zones, from the underside of the wrist to the crevices between each finger where they meet the palm.
So when I felt his velvety tongue slowly slide up to that spot between my index and middle finger, I knew it was going to be a good night.
I'd spotted Trent talking to another woman at the back of the club. All 6 feet tall and broad-shouldered, just the way I like them. She seemed more interested in their conversation than he did, so I took it as a sign to start making eye contact.
Ten minutes later, he walked past me quite deliberately and stood at the far end of the dancefloor by himself. He was surprised I still recognised him from the week before, as our initial meeting had been rather a brief one. One drink and casual banter later, I left for the loo and returned to find the same woman desperately trying to engage him once again. This time by leaning into him and whispering in his ear while swaying suggestively.
I turned away and resumed talking to my colleague, because competing for a man's attention is futile at best, not to mention tiring and cheap, and I just don't like endorsing the male ego that much. Especially ones I don't know very well.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned, informed me he was leaving and asked if I'd like a ride home.
Done deal.
It's almost as if he can read my mind in bed, because he knew how to push all my buttons, just the way I like them pushed. He gives head in swirling, languid strokes, with just enough pressure, and knew to slip a finger in at just the right moment. So much so that I definately need to see him again.
And try as I might, I can't seem to recall the sequence of the various positions we used. I do remember him politely asking if I'd like it from the back and answering 'yes, please', and also that he actually managed to surprise me by pulling one leg up to his chest while I lay on my side, the other leg between his as he knelt above me.
Killer angle.
Let's hope that skanky other bitch doesn't get to him before I do next week... There's so many possibilities I'd like to explore, and this time I'd really like to show him what other things I'm capable of.
Oh dear...
I think I've fallen in lust.
posted by rose at 1:06 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home