My Guilty Pleasure

I shouldn’t be here. The thought flickers through my mind and extinguishes as soon as he opens the door. His smile and his words douse my fears. Within moments, my arms are around his neck, his mouth is on mine, and his hands begin their exploration.

I met him some years ago, in a random, not-prepared to meet someone kind of way. I remember sitting in the warm summer sun, activity happening all around us, yet all my attention was focused on him. It was almost as if we were in a bubble in which nothing else could invade. Did I know that a few years later, he would be so deeply entwined in my life that I could not bear to let him go?

We casually dated for a few months, but life seemingly always got in the way. It was almost like a second job to get the time to see each other. The times we were together were amazing on so many different levels, yet we both lacked the motivation and commitment to make it occur more often. After we ended the relationship, our friendship continued, and deepened. I was never able to completely erase the romantic feelings for him from my heart – which lead me to the position I am today.

His hands have found their way up the back of my shirt, reaching to unclasp my bra. He does it in such a swift motion, as if the bra was never there to begin with. It falls to the floor, soon to be joined by our other clothing. His appreciative moan when his hands reach my breasts sends little jolts of electricity down my spine, as does his touch while he caresses, pulls and licks my nipples to their reddened peaks. He pulls my shirt off my head roughly, to get better access to what he wants.

My strengths have never laid in reading what men want. The mystery that surrounds him is what both drives me to find out more and also what infuriates me the most. I desire to be wanted and needed by him, and although I feel both those things when we are together, I crave it daily. Emotionally, physically, spiritually - for him to want me, to finally have that chance to see what might be, what could be.

His mouth is covering my right breast where he is forcefully sucking my nipple. Moaning, I put my hand on the back of his head and pull him closer to me. His fingers, still exploring the soft crevices of my body through my skirt, finally find their way inside the wrap skirt I am wearing. He gently strokes and rubs my clit with such gentleness, gradually gaining both pressure and speed until my knees feel like they are going to give out. He removes his hand, gently smacks my bottom, and with a lingering kiss leads me to the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, he turns to face me. I lean down to carefully remove his pants. Kneeling in front of him, I gently take his cock into my mouth. As I kneel there, twirling my tongue around his cock, sucking and stroking his balls, his ass, he strokes my head – sometimes tugging at my hair. I enjoy this as much as he does, the rhythm, the flicking of the tongue that brings out those guttural moans from deep in his throat.

The knowledge we have, both intimate and non-intimately is what keeps us coming back. Yet, there is still so much we don’t know about each other. We connect, no matter what the situation is. It has taken a long time for me to fully trust someone as much as I trust him. Each person carries around so much emotional baggage from previous relationships – and I know it is his baggage from the relationships gone by that keeps us apart. His worries that I will grow bored or restless of him, as others have in his mind. He is who I want, yet can never have fully. But do I give up what I do have with him because of this? I continue to choose to take what I can get, as the thought of not having him near me is too painful to bear.

He gently pulls his cock out of my mouth, and I know he wants more. There is no gentleness in his actions when he pulls me to the bed. He lays me on my back and enters me, roughly, pounding me fiercely while holding my arms above my head. My breasts are bouncing back and forth from the sheer force of his thrusts. He takes hold of my right nipple, sucking it hard, and I come almost immediately. His thrusts slow, waiting for me to recover from my orgasm, but only for a few delicious moments of aftershocks. Staring into my eyes, he lifts my legs high in the air, balancing them on his shoulders. He grabs my hips and starts again, pounding my pussy with his cock. He takes his hand and places it on my clit, flicking and rubbing, until my body shudders and I moan in appreciation of his attentiveness. He continues to thrust his cock into me until I can feel and hear his own orgasm, hotly spurting and filling me up.

He leans down and starts sucking on my nipples, slowly kissing and touching his way down to my wet pussy. He devours me, tasting our orgasms mingled together. The thought of this drives me wild, and it only takes a minute for him to make me come again. He continues to play, licking and gently sucking my clit, tasting my juices until I beg him to make me come again. He loves this part, the teasing, the playing, the pleasurable torture of bringing me to that level, then just maintaining it until I explode.

From the very first time we had sex, I knew that he was different from any lover I had prior. There were people in my past that loved sex, yet just were in it for their own pleasure, not caring much about whether I finished or not. He was different, it was about the conjoined pleasure, where both of us were equally spent and exhausted by the end that moving seemed to take too much effort. I have never been so satisfied - emotionally, physically and mentally by one person before.

He tells that he wants me on my knees. I gladly oblige as I am craving his cock inside me again. He leans over me, kissing and licking a trail from my neck down to my ass. The shivers course through me, and I beg him to enter me. He takes me from behind, gently at first, teasing my pussy with just the tip of his cock, and then driving it deep into me. My pussy is so wet that I can feel and hear myself dripping. We move together in unison, thrusting and pumping rhythmically until I feel him pull his cock from me and slide it between my ass cheeks. He groans as I feel his hot come pulsate between my cheeks, and his cock rubbing and stroking my ass.

He leans over me again, kissing his way up to my neck, and telling me without words that he wants me to lay on my stomach. He strokes my earlobes with his lips, whispering words of love, of passion and of lust. He rubs his cock between my ass cheeks until it slides into my ass, well-lubricated with his come.

There isn’t a boundary on what I would do for this man. I am almost obsessive in my desire to please him. If it gives him pleasure, I want to try everything, and would do anything; I want to hear those moans in the bedroom, the smiles, hugs, kisses and words when we aren’t physical. In return, he encourages me in my fantasies, encourages my knowledge and appreciation of my body, and has given me so much faith in myself again – something I had lost long ago.

His cock slides so gently in and out of my ass. He leans with his full weight on me, whispering in my ear how much I excite him, how much he needs me. I start to return his gentle thrusts, moving faster as I want him deep inside of me. He starts pushing harder, reaching underneath me to grab my breasts. He pace quickens, and I match it. It is so tight yet slippery and I can feel every pulse his cock makes. He waits for me to tell him that I want it deeper, faster and harder, and he fulfills my need until he finally lets go and comes deep into my ass.

He pulls his cock so gently out, moaning in appreciation as he does. He lies on his back and gently plays with my clit, my breasts and my pussy until I am completely spent. We lay there for ages, gently stroking and kissing each other, warm with satisfaction and loving words until we know that the time has come where we need to sleep. I get up to put on my clothes while he watches, admires from the bed. Once I am ready, a few more kisses and more words of love follow me out the door to my car.

It is once I have returned home that the remorse sets in. I know it was wrong, there is no denying that. When I walk in the door, and see the man sleeping on the couch who has been patiently waiting for me to return from my evening at a ‘friends’, I feel tremendous guilt. How can I risk what I have with one man who has been there every morning, noon and night for me, because I can’t turn away the man who fulfills me on those levels that he can’t? Why do I risk hurting a good man, who has held me when I have cried, makes me laugh when I am miserable, for another who wants me, thrills me with just the sight of him, but with no time demands? I love both of them, each completely and would spend my life easily with them. But, I cannot choose between them, they both fulfill me in their own ways. One wants commitment and a life relationship, however with lacking passion and lust. The other is the exact opposite. Together, it is the perfect relationship. Apart, there is always something lacking. I cannot choose between them as I would lose a part of myself along the way.