It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was so uncomfortable with the idea that my sexual needs would come first, or second, or third...or just over and over again until my brain felt foggy and my pussy ached. By the time he would slide his hard cock inside, I would be rallying to accept him, wet and open and desperate for more and also having had enough.
But after two sexually charged dates, that straddled the line of slutty, I was enthralled to find out what it would be like to be naked with him. Lying in his arms, head against his hairy chest, smelling him after sex, sweaty and sweet. I had tasted his cock and felt his mouth on my pussy and I knew I was probably in for a treat. But despite all the explicit sexy texting, the real thing is never as good as described, right?
We talked. We started with talking. Why did we start with talking? We talked too much. But that was the intellectual foreplay that also told me I was exactly where I should be. The emotional gymnastics my heart was doing as we laughed, and shared and flirted. The sweet kisses that started on the couch and began to escalate in intensity. Leaning in as he would knit his fingers through my hair, tugging gently, a moan escaping my lips and egging him on. As I swung my leg over his lap, I could feel him thick and firm against my inner thigh. I'd push down and grind with each kiss, letting him know, I feel you. I know what this is doing to you. And I want it, too.