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#60
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#60 Instead of a little black book, I have a little blue book. Among other notes and thoughts and scribbles, it lists the names of all the men that I have had sex with since joining FriendFinder-x 3 ½ years ago. I counted those names a few days ago and realized I was approaching an interesting . 60. 60 men. couples. MMF. In 3 ½ years. And for the most part, amazing sex. X in Minneapolis. X in Washington, DC. The sweet attorney who took me to his gorgeous house for the most magical evening of my life. The Italian pilot who played Italian and spoke to me in Italian while he fucked me oh so delicioso. The sweet tech guy I met when I logged on with the explicit goal of finding someone to fuck that night, met in a hotel in NJ and was as sweet as pie and licked me to such a frenzy that I nearly passed out when I came. And my sweet and reliable Jazz Man, who plays me like he plays his trombone: passionately, beautifully, lustfully. These are the many reasons why I love FriendFinder-x. So I wondered: who will have the distinction of being #60? Does that hold any significant meaning for me? Not really. It’s not 50; I’ve passed that already. I’ll get back to you when I get to #0. Fast forward to weeks ago. I find buried in my messages a reply from someone who tells me he will be in NYC for a few days for business and after enjoying my pictures and profile, wanted to know if I would meet him for a drink. I love the business men who go through NYC. They’re usually bright, charming, sweet. But the key things they possess: they have hotel rooms and they are temporary. After a few email exchanges, I agree to meet. He’s staying a hotel in Times Square. Times Square is Tourist Trap Hell, throngs of crowds all standing around, gawking, texting, lost, and all in the middle of the sidewalk. More people in Times Square than quite possibly live in Idaho. As I made my way through the sea of people, I wonder, as I always do, why on earth anyone would want to visit NYC. I’m late, I’m sweating – after a chilly spring, the weather finally remembers that it’s May – but I slow down as I approach the hotel. Straighten my hair. Take a quick look in my compact. I’ve agreed to meet him in the lobby. As I go through the revolving doors, I see him. Tall, silver hair. Hands on his hips. He doesn’t look happy. I’ve kept him waiting. I practically stand in front of him and see his expression change as he recalls my photo. I smile. He returns the smile, and we walk into the bar. He tells me about his business, and how much he loves New York. I order a Pinot Noir and he tells me about the bottles of wine he has at home. He’s a little nervous, I think. He orders a Guinness. I slowly drink my wine, enjoying the taste. He for the drinks and we move to more casual seating inside the bar. He tells me he bought a bottle of wine with him on this trip. “How about we have a glass of it in your room?” I say, demurely. I had been waiting for more than an hour at that point, wondering if he would make a move, take the first step. Not that I was impatient, I just wanted to…move things along. We take the elevator to his room. Not a bad room for a NYC hotel, which tend to run small. A spectacular view of 8th Avenue looking uptown, I am mesmerized by this crazy, beautiful, impossible city. I take off my shoes, get into the bed, fully clothed, while he pours me a glass of wine. He brings it to me. I can smell the grape. It is wonderful going down, sweet, pungent. I feel the glow of this glass of wine begin to radiate outward, as I feel the buzz of the alcohol. He stands in front of the tv. We talk. He finally comes over to the bed. We talk more. He tells me he loves jazz. I grab my phone and find the local jazz station app and we listen. He reaches for me and I rest my head on his shoulder. His hands begin to make their way to my back and down my jeans and finally, inside my panties. I fondle and caress his cock through his pants, which has grown to a nice, firm size. We kiss. His hands are on my breast. I clasp my hand around his as he fondles my breast, my nipples already hard. He helps me take my top off, revealing my white bra, 40M for those keeping score at home. With one hand he manages to unclasp my bra, reaching behind me. I am impressed. My breasts fall, happy to be free from the bra. He takes a breast in his mouth and begins nibbling at my nipple, then a long suck which hurts but…doesn’t. My head is back and my eyes are closed. Ripples of pain/pleasure wash over me. I get up, walk over to the curtains and throw them back, exposing the spectacular view. I want to see this view while he makes love to me. I turn off the light, surrender my jeans and get on the bed next to him. He is naked, stands above me, towers above me, his cock hard and ready. I take it in my mouth while he has a finger deep inside my pussy. I am already wet and want to feel him inside me but he has other plans. He takes a nipple in his mouth and continues to rub my clit, slow at first, and then harder and faster. I can feel the orgasm begin. My breath is coming in short gasps. The room is dark, I don’t even remember what he looks like. I see the city below, glittering like jewels. I am on the orgasm mountain, climbing slowly and steadily, thinking of all the men I’ve fucked, the fun I’ve had, the pleasure I enjoy and then I . My body spasms, jerks. I moan out loud. He lays down next to me, while my body continues to spasm. He wants to continue but I want to fuck. He’s inside me, slowly moving himself in and out of me. I adjust my body to take all of him inside me. He is quiet. All I can hear is his steady, increased breathing and my heart hammering in my chest. His thrusts quicken and then slow and then stop. Not sure what happened, I soon realize that he has ejaculated. He apologizes for being quick, blaming it on the long flight and jet lag. I accept his apology and tell him not to worry about it. “The main thing is that we both enjoyed each other.” “I like you,” he says to me, in the dark, my head on his chest. “I like you, too” I say to him. I’m still not sure of his name. Or at least the pronunciation of it. I can feel his making my panties wet in the Uber as I sped uptown, through the gorgeous, dark, and crazy city. |
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reading this got me hard - again... You really do have talent, love it!
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