Fascination Street

I dream of you still, you know. And they won't believe me, but if I feel like this, I'm sure that you do too. Two years passed and the memory is still as vivid as ever, the emotion, the dream of touching you again, still awake, alive. I tingle at the thought of another night with you. Even while I'm dating someone else, who is kind and sweet and perfect in every way, I fantasize about you, my Spanish Casanova, keeper of the best orgasms.

I dream of being back in my little apartment: a still to rival Tracey Emin (though, I would hope slightly more romantic). I am dressing, newly waxed (not so there's nothing left, just neat, clean), shaved, my baby soft skin shrouded in a cheap perfume reeking of death and vanilla, it suits me. I'm young, borderline too young for you, you like that.

I put on a simple (easily removeable) bra, and black lace panties that just manage to disguise 'the flaw'. My soft stomach – not fat, but soft, without tone, the repercussions of a young woman who picked books over gym. With my heart already running rapid, I don't need to be more self conscious tonight, I cover up my flaws, I want to look the best. I run a straightener through my wavy espresso hair, dab on mascara, nothing else, I'm minimal, and besides, I won't need it.

I think we're far too similar. On one hand, seemingly dedicated people, to our partners, our education, our career, our own little revolution. But on the other hand, we're serial victims of lust, passionate, animalistic, never satisfied with one partner. I guess that's why we fuck.

You're five minutes away, according to your text. I curse, clearly having spent too long analysing the pro's and con's of a body like mine (petite, weak, pale, dark hair, big dark round eyes, retrousse nose to rival French Revolution era aristocracy). I make the bed again, play soft music (nothing romantic, Interpol. I'm not one to jump the conclusion of immediate sex) and open my blinds to the early winter in East London scene below me. It would be twice the temperature with half the charm in my home country, I am dazed, this is paradise.

I indulge in wearing my hold ups, little kitten heels, a simple blue lace dress and a bright pink jumper, I remember it was your favourite, wheat is not a common motif on jumpers, it made you smile. The thought your smile alone makes me heady...

You don't drink, but tonight I need liquid courage, one small glass of vodka tonic before disposing the evidence and brushing my teeth, flossing, Listerine. I'm nervous now, I already know I'll talk too much, I'll get nervous, the poor boy I've just started dating is bound to find out. But now - you call, you're here.

Stuck in a limbo between an elegant sashay and overexcited bounds I somehow get to the bottom of my three flights of stairs. I greet you, its too civil for words. A kiss on the cheek and exchanges of various formalities (how are our mutual friends? Isn't it cold? Isn't it lovely?) And then the walk up the stairs. I lead. I know these stairs are a powerful tool for showing off my shapely legs and fit behind, the spankings that have occurred on the third flight of stairs speak for themselves. But you're cooler than that, nothing, just conversation, I'm a sucker for your mild Spanish accent, I swallow and try to focus on holding up my end of the philosophy talk. We're deep. I like that.

In my room you present: dinner. Vegetarian tapas and a cheesy 80's film starring Molly Ringwald. I'm not vegetarian but you had always assumed I was from the time we met, I couldn't say otherwise, I guess I look the part. We eat, (you much more than me, I'm too nervous for food, and, well, I don't want to bloat) and we turn off the music to watch the film. We chat like old friends (which, hell, I guess we are) and then things fall silent. Slowly, softly, expertly, your arm covers my shoulders.

And I know we've been here before. And I know where this is going. And I'm faced with the decision – you're about to enter a serious relationship with someone else, do you want to go here?

And I know that the answer is yes, I don't consider early days dating exclusive at the best of times. And, Raul, this has been a long time coming. I need you. I need you just as much as you need me. I accept your movement, I rest my head on your shoulder. Cute.

The movie moves painfully slowly, your grip changes and I look to you for the reason. Sly move, your face moves closer to mine, we kiss. I'm not in power for long, I guess your tongue is longer, stronger. Your tongue explores my mouth like its never been there before, it reminds me of our second attempt at this before we got it right, you walked me home but wouldn't come in, I rammed my tongue down your throat to say goodnight.

El beso continua, Me llevo al infinito. Your arms encase me - I'm so small, so delicate in your arms, we like it. I break the kiss, half in excitement, half because I can't breathe, I lick the side of your mouth, your lips to your cheek, and I get wet. I'm tingling all over, your big deep eyes mirror mine, you pull me on top of you and we erase my dress, I'm left in my stockings, underwear, kitten heels, oh, wow, delirium.

I'm nervous at the sight of my unclothed body. You don't mind. You unhook my bra (it doesn't take you much, I guess you know your way – fair enough) and start to play. Your fingers firmly grip my hardening nipples, twisting and mauling and teasing them, in the back of my mind I wonder if they'll bruise (they did) but then "oh." I mutter, and your mouth starts to linger over them, your teeth lightly graze my tender nipple a bit, your hand (which fits my breast perfectly) holds my cleavage higher to your face and I arch my back in pleasure, too stunned to speak.

You know I'm turned on, I don't need words to tell you. We communicate through actions. I look at you with a fire in my eyes, and regain my power on top of you. I straddle you, I take off your soft, navy, v-neck jumper and place it on the floor, followed by your sonic youth t-shirt. Oh, I forgot you had that piercing, sweet. You look up at me with those lazy brown eyes, "kiss it," you whisper. And I, in my stupor, have no idea what you're referring to. I kiss your mouth, hard, feverishly, like the first time, I kiss down to your neck and you let out the smallest of moans, I linger there for some time, sucking, grazing my teeth across your skin, working down. You smell manly, in the best way. No overpowering odour, no perfumes and no false pretences. Lust. I kiss your chest, the few hairs tickling my tongue, I kiss your belly button ring, bite the surrounding skin – the bulge in your skinny jeans becomes ever larger. I'm dripping. I look up at you, asking for permission, I didn't need to, but still, you think it's cute.

With you lying down, I take your belt out of it's notches, I unzip your fly, I'm breathing heavily, trying to work out my next move. I move lower on to your legs and start to pull, the jeans give, but not much. Graciously you help me a little, as I keep tugging your jeans, you move your leg in time to my tugs, they give faster than expected, I topple off the bed. I giggle, I can't help it. You think its cute but you clearly want me to finish what I hinted at starting, fair enough really. You're wearing superman underpants, and I blush in the dark room, its devastatingly kitsch, but secretly I'm a fan. I think you know that. You get up and sit on the side of the bed and I pull off the elastic underpants and just watch your penis. It is long, thick, so much bigger than you would expect (it having been in those skinny jeans), I'm excited and a little nervous, that said, I'm so wet that my panties would be more use on the floor, so I won't have too much trouble.

I lower my mouth to your penis and breathe on it, a moment of calm and then I lick, I flick my little tongue all over your member, down across your balls, keeping my eyes on yours as much as possible, we are both silent, excited, fuelled with pure lust. I finally work up the courage to take you in my mouth. You're huge. My little, perfectly aligned teeth are just barely covered my lips and I take every effort not to hurt you. You moan the tiniest little bit, and I look up at you. Too much eye contact, you thrust my head down on your cock, ensuring I start my deep throat, no argument here, I love it when you dominate, I love it when to tell me what to do, I'm your little play toy, you enjoy that.

I'm good at deep throat. I have no idea how or why but it's a concept I caught on to pretty quickly, I love the feeling of a large thick penis entering my mouth, sliding down my throat, forcing my muscles to accept it. A vague fantasy of asphyxiation crosses my mind and you let me up to take a breath, before shoving my head back down again, your hand intertwined in my wavy dark hair, the roughness turns me on more. I can feel your penis twitching as I pump my throat up and down with increasing speed, I have no intention of stopping, but you pull me up to kiss you, savagely, enamored, we wait. You're biding your time, wanting to remain hard for another round.

Silently, we lie back on my bed, I cuddle up beside you. A moment staring in each other's eyes, soft moans coming from me between your little kisses on my neck, my chest. And then you've got a new idea, you're back on top of me. You tease off my panties, which stick to my upper thigh because they're so wet. You pry apart my little legs, take in the view, and then get on top of me in a 69 position. I scream, baby, I scream, your tongue is a savage and I have been begging for it for so long. Your teasing licks are unforgiving, I need you so desperately to insert something, anything. Afraid to ask, I wait it out, moaning and crying in lust as your tongue teases my lips, as you bite my clit. I try to focus on your dick, I feel smothered by your weight on top of me, it turns me on. I suck, flick, tease your penis, I take your balls in my mouth and play with you with my petite hands – but I am distracted. You cruelly insert one finger, I tense up, I moan, I gush all over your mouth.

How have you still not come? You turn around on top of me, your dick again facing my eager mouth. We push my breasts up to create extra cleavage, and your penis slides deliciously through the crevice to be met at the tip, again by my mouth. My mouth is so sore from the preceedings already but I want to please you, I take you in my mouth, I tug, all my effort focused on this. Finally, you explode, a great line of your come comes to rest on my cheekbone, between my breasts, you deposit the rest in my mouth, and while I'm sucking, you reach for a tissue, wipe my face clean. I didn't supply those tissues, you're so fucking prepared. Oh, sweetheart.

You climb off me and I can't believe I'm this exhausted and you haven't put your penis anywhere near my vagina. We cuddle, we talk about architecture, about the winter plans and your move away, and for a second, I let myself pretend this is more than sex. I close my eyes and imagine you and me, a blurry vision of a wonderful future. It doesn't take us long to want to pickup where we left off though. You're getting hard again, and in no way am I settling for one orgasm with you.

Starting slow, you straddle me, your rough kisses all over my mouth, face, neck, chest. Your hardening penis teasing my pussy in little circular motions. You stop, and I look in to your eyes pleadingly. "You really want to?" Don't fuck with me. I nod enthusiastically, you pry my legs further open and enter me all at once. I didn't need you to be soft but it takes me by surprise. You fill me and I am again at your disposal. You thrust in to me forcefully, but not urgently, we want to make it last.

Your thrusts, oh, they're long, hard, I wrap my legs around your hips and my pussy holds you tightly for the ride. You move my legs, higher, they rest on your shoulders, you lean back and fuck harder, faster. I can hear my pussy, so wet, the movements hit my spot and I moan, too loudly, I turn my head and half bury my face in a pillow to muffle the screams. You stop, you tell me to get up, we swap positions, allowing me to ride you at my speed. Or so I thought. I try to control the speed for a little while, soft, long strokes, but you grab my hips, and make me pump faster, harder, for I don't know how long, I lost track of everything in these moments. My tender pussy is in such a violent mix of pleasure and pain, I'm that close to coming, again. I think you sense this, and again we decide to change. I get on to all fours, I marvel at how you manage to stay hard this long. I tilt my head back to kiss you messily before resuming my position, and you enter me, again. And we both moan, loud. Your thrusts are rhythmic, not too fast, not too slow, I'm moaning almost constantly, in a state of stupor, you use my hear to pull my head back and whisper possibly the longest sentence we've said for hours: "This is fantastic." I smile, I nod, I kiss you messily, again, just long enough for you to play with my breasts momentarily before I get back down on all fours. And now you decide to play rough. Each thrust you exit and enter me in full, You grab my hair and my ass, and thrust as hard and as powerful as you can. I balance on my knees and place my feet behind you, squeezing your torso towards mine. We hold this position for a while but you get so powerful my arms give way, you continue, my head in a pillow and my little ass in the air. You drive in to me with neverending force and my pussy is so spent, I can't do anything but scream in to my pillow. Over, and over, and over again you thrust in. I adore it. Exhausted, and so close to coming, again. You pull me back up, lean over me, bite my ear, and whisper "I'm close, where do you want it?" fuck off. I want it everywhere. Lazily, I mutter "where you want". Good enough for you. With your final thrusts, your finger rhythmically rubs my clit as your balls hit my skin. Quickly, I come, screaming, shaking, and you exit my raw pussy. You, kiss my back before coming, on my back, then flipping me over and coming everywhere else. My large tits glisten and I arch my back in wonton pleasure. I like it.

You, with your fucking pack of tissues, wipe the largest spots of come off of me, suddenly delicate and careful, like the tissue could break me, darling. My mind is running at a thousand miles an hour. Was is right to do what I did? Yes and no. Will I regret it? Not sure. Will I remember it? Without question.

I slept in your arms, I felt safe and warm and used, a perfect combination – all the proper mechanics for love. If this was a dream, then I want to sleep for the rest of my life.

Two years later and the memory is as vibrant as ever. The man I was dating at the time is now a long term partner, and he is everything you're not. Kind, sweet, faithful, gentle. He's wonderful, he thinks we'll get married one day. But, Raul, I still dream of you, and I suppose I will forever. Gracias. x