My native language is not English, so please give me any feedback on my use of this language!
*****
Jan had come to visit me. And as always he couldn't keep his eyes off me, and yet he did nothing. I had met him at a dancing school, and soon it became clear to me he was in love with me ... or at least desired me intensely.
But he never did anything at all. Probably didn't have the guts! Even if we danced body-to-body, he remained scrupulously 'correct': never an attempt to seduce me, never a touch-that's-just-over-the-edge, never flirting ... actually nothing showed he wanted me, except the suffering good-dog look in his face.
Or rather: it was a horny look undressing me mentally. And then I saw his eyes wander to my breasts and my thighs. I don't mind that, I like it when men look at me. And I like to wear clothes that accentuate my body's good looks. (I look good if I may say so myself).
Sometimes he also looked at my feet: for I usually wear high heels. Many men are high heels fetishists. It's amazing how many you can get at your feet, only because of what you wear on your feet.
Again, usually I have nothing against that. I really like it when men feel attracted to me. If I find them attractive, things may sometimes become very pleasant.
But then I do want them to show their feelings in a playful way. They mustn't be too afraid to be rejected, or they will be. And Jan did not meet my standard: he only gave me pining looks, but he gave me nothing else. He was already some fifty years old, but he might just as well be a shy fifteen-year old boy.
Had he ever had sex with a woman? I strongly suspected he was still a virgin.
I sometimes thought: shall I seduce him? But I preferred not to. I liked him, but he was not 'my type' as it's called.
And now it was the same all over again. He was proclaiming some politically correct feminist opinions about women and sexuality, as if I can't form my own opinions of that. And meanwhile he looked at my breasts and my legs, and at the stiletto heels at my feet. Let me be honest with him: if his courage didn't fail him, he sometimes looked me right in my eyes too, sometimes even two seconds on end.
In short, he was beginning to irritate me. It had been some weeks since I had my last lover, and by now I found it was time for another one. Now I wasn't really sure if I'd want Jan as a lover, but apart from that: if I would have to wait for him I'd probably have to wait for an unconscionably long time. For a cold day in hell at least. Oh well, maybe a week before that cold day in hell: he had a rather miserable look in his eyes.
Help! I'm so horny! And so was Jan, I knew ... if he'd just make a move, I might even be tempted to give in, even though I didn't find him really attractive. But he just wouldn't move, the 'correct' wimp! Sure we women have got rights, thank you very much mister, and one of them is the right to have hot, steaming sex, and you neglect it completely!
What should I do? Heat him up some more? Or rather tell him to buzz off?
But I was in luck: saved by the bell. Somebody else called, and it turned out to be Willem, whom I had also met at the dancing school. Ah yes, Willem! An attractive guy of about thirty, tall, lean, with black curls and dark twinkling eyes. And always fittingly flirtatious to tickle my feminine ego, without ever being coarse.
Like today: he greeted me with the words: "Oh Ingrid, how beautiful you are again today!" I would like Willem to come a bit closer to me, yes, to taste his lips, and oh to feel the warmth of his body to my skin ... I knew I wouldn't be his only lover, but I would like to have the opportunity ... just to be alone with him.
For that opportunity simply never came. Every time I saw Willem there were other people around. So I never got the chance. To taste his lips and feel his body, I mean.
And as if the devil was playing games, it was the same tonight. The last time Willem visited me, my friend Paula was there too, and looked at him as if she wanted to eat him alive. And now my friend Jan was there, and looked as if he could eat me.
But OK, Willem looked exactly the same way at me, so I still had some hope. But now I really began to think how I could get Jan out of the way without being rude.
By the way, our conversation was still about women and sex. Willem also has very correct views on that, at least, he tries to make me believe that. But Willem is very good at making me laugh about it, and that makes all the difference in the world.
Like this one: "Jan is completely right: women have the right not to be judged by their sexuality. But if they are beautiful, they have the privilege to be judged for it after all. That means to be admired, that won't hurt their rights! And we both admire you, don't you, Jan?"
To this Jan swallowed, and nodded.
Ah, feminism with sex! On high heels, I would fondly hope. I like that version much better than the politically correct one. And Willem even contrives to make Jan admit he admires me too, although only non-verbally.
He is also very good at making completely unexpected remarks, so that you're at a loss what to say. So he did this time: he suddenly proposed, just like that, to play strip poker. In the presence of a rival!
In my confusion I asked Jan what he thought about it. I don't know why, maybe I hoped that his courage would fail him as usual, and that he would say: oh no, Willem, I'd prefer not to!
But no, Willem's unabashed move had convinced Jan he couldn't stay behind. So Jan also wanted to play strip poker. And even more, he actually had the guts to confess.
Jesus. What now? Some women are fond of threesomes, but that's not my taste at all. Usually there is only one man I really desire, and the other one is only a nuisance. So I refused, with an aching feeling of regret. Ah Willem! I'll call you tomorrow, I thought.
"But then why don't you pick one of us? Then only one man will remain unsatisfied, but otherwise all three of us!" Said who? Said Jan.
Jeeesus. He even touched a chord, somewhere deep down in me. I often have these fantasies when making love, usually some moments before my orgasm: that there is another man present who looks on. And sighs with misery, for he wants to fuck me too so much ... but he isn't allowed to. Such fun! Oh Jan, what are you saying now?
Willem was all for it. "Yes! If I can't get you, I'd find it very exciting at least to see you, preferably in action!" Oh Willem, what are you saying? And Jan completely agreed.
I felt hot and moist in the groin. And my nipples itched, and my throat constricted with excitement. Ah guys! Do you really mean that?
I breathed deeply. And said yes. But then the guys would have to make the game completely real. Particularly, the rejected one would have to remain really unsatisfied. I would not come to him afterwards either, and he was not supposed to masturbate. (Jeeesus. Did I really dare say that aloud? I felt all wet between the thighs.)
And Willem and Jan both found it a mighty good idea. Oh my God. Now I'm going to do something really bad. But it seems this will be an unforgettable night. Now two people will have an experience of incomparable pleasure. And one will have reason for incomparable regret. But he asks for it himself!
And so the evening went on. We played cards, we all three lost all our clothes, and we became hornier and hornier. Of course the guys wanted me to keep on my nylon stockings and my high heels.
I wore my hair pinned up, and I started to remove the pins. But Jan asked me to keep it high: "It's such a lovely sight to see your smooth neck, and your ears!" Ah, at last an un-feminist compliment from Jan. Or maybe he was also exploring the possibility of feminism with sex. A pity that he found that out too late. Just half an hour earlier, before Willem arrived, it could have been different for him!
But as to my hairdo: Willem liked it as well. That was even more important! So I kept my hair pinned up high.
I cast a glance at Willem. Ah, what a fine body! Lithe and supple ... beautiful big stiff cock ... I imagined how it would be if that one would move to and fro in my moist pleasure hole, with big strikes, the head rubbing my G-spot ...
Don't think too much about that just now. There is a time for everything. But I started to long very much to feel his body to mine, his lips, his tongue, his broad chest against my tingling nipples.
Willem smiled at me. Oh Willem, what a beautiful piece of flesh you are. And the way you laugh! Oh Willem, let me play a little for a while, I won't make you suffer for long! I don't want to see you suffer, I want to see you beside yourself with pleasure, and I promise: my orgasm will surpass anything you have ever seen in a woman before!
I looked at Jan and smiled at him. Never let a man lose hope too soon, as I always say. But his body was not as beautiful as Willem's. He was already sagging somewhat in places, and his belly bulged a bit, not like Willem's. No, it was clear that Jan would have to be content with the idea of sex tonight. That ought to appeal to an idealist like him!
By the way, his cock didn't look so bad at all: a little smaller than Willem's, but with a nice dark red head, fittingly pining. It was a bit of a pity to forgo that dick, but well, a woman's eyes also need something nice to look at. And a stiff cock is more exciting to look at, than when its owner had just come.
He looked at me as a man obsessed, as if he wanted to take me then and there ... no, not 'as if'. I imagined Jan's face when he'd see what he had to miss tonight, and I felt so hot ... what a bitch I was! But I couldn't feel really guilty about it.
Willem asked: "Who's your choice now?" Ha, he can't contain himself anymore! But you'll have to have some more patience, guys. Be all patient and all yearning!
