My pussy throbbed with every step he took toward me. I couldn’t stop looking at his perfectly proportioned face, his luscious lips, his gently shaved head. He wore a beard that I vowed to soak with my juices. After a couple beers, a couple jokes, a couple looks of longing, he asked how I felt about PDA. I pulled him close to show him. Though the environment was intoxicating, his kisses lacked something. I expected that to change once we were alone. Around 2:15 AM I asked him to take me home.
We were at my apartment in about 7 minutes. He walked me up the three flights of stairs. All the while saying how much of a gentleman he was. We kissed at my door step and he asked to use my bathroom. I let him inside with me and heard him piss. The idea of him was fantastic, the look of him even better, but kissing him in my kitchen was a bit disappointing. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and didn’t do much more. His tongue was definitely that of a cigarette smoker – it had a roughness to it that I wasn’t accustomed to. Once in a while his dick would dangle from his pants and he’d say, I better put this away, to draw my eyes to it. It never stayed out for long… like he was testing me to see if I could resist it.
He didn’t kiss me anywhere but my lips. He didn’t touch my face or hair. He didn’t grab me like he meant it. Perhaps because his hands were busy wagging his cock at me and tucking it away?? What the hell was that anyway? Had he touched me with more passion I would have pulled that dick out myself. I pinned him to the wall, kissed his neck, and felt him up a bit before sending him home.
In the following days our contact grew sparse, which made me think of him more. It’s like the silence was erasing his horrible performance from my mind. I contemplated asking him what happened or if I did something to “scare him off” but quickly decided against it. Instead I cleared our conversation thread. Part of this dating thing that I’m working on is distinguishing between what someone is giving me and what my being with them brings out of me.
Often times the desire and excitement I feel is not something specific to them, but rather something that’s inside me and rushing to the surface. In other words it’s something I could bring out with other people, or other activities, not just that individual. All the excitement I felt with him is within me. It’s mine to command, with the right activity.
I look forward to seeing my membership through the 1 month period I paid for and then looking elsewhere for young studs and birds to explore with. But I must remind myself not to get caught up with the excitement of this. Not to think I need to be in a relationship with someone just because I feel a certain way when their name lights up my screen.